#【 ☓ 】 ❙ STAY TUNED. ❙《 in character. 》࿏

[i2sainz]

when an angel returns

What happens when the line between winning the championship and risking your life becomes blurred?

pairing : lando norris x redbull driver!fem!reader

warnings : main character death (reader), a crash, angst, panic attack, mentions of blood, profanity, brief mention of a coma (lando), no happy ending.

wc : 5.22k

inspired by : Let Down by Radiohead & this tiktok

It was harder than usual to ignore the blistering heat grappling up from beneath your palms. Your sweat felt almost too comparable to liquid lava as it dripped down from your heated navel, enabling your fireproofs to sit snug against your bare torso.

Your chest burned with the air that your lungs refused to breathe— your heart beating in tune with the small, barely noticeable, bumps along turn three of the Yas Marina circuit. 

It would've been an understatement to say that you were tense. Your jaw was nothing if not locked in place, matching your eyebrows furrowed tight beneath your slightly fogged visor. 

"Zero point six gap to Norris. He’s within the DRS zone, fight with everything for your position. This is the last lap." Even though your radio stayed silent in response, you were anything but. Small, barely audible, sounds left your lips on their own accord. Absentminded profanity sang from beneath your balaclava before being soothed over by an equally loud prayer. 

This wasn’t only a race for victory, no— it was much, much, more. It was a race for legacy, a championship that could potentially signify something that you’ve worked your entire life for. 

It was your chance to be the first woman to win the WDC, and you’d be damned to let anyone take it away from you. Even if it was at the stake of the love of your life losing.

But this was also his moment, his time to prove to everyone that he deserved his seat. That he deserved to win. The only thought racing through his head was that he needed to pass you, to make a point to everyone watching- everyone including himself.

This win was detrimental in a way that had the ability to take everything from either one of you. The media had spat venom disguised as hope, they said that the loss of this win could cost either one of you your entire career. 

And now that the two of you were point to point and wheel to wheel, you both refused to give up. 

Your lips stilled the exact moment you clocked Lando’s DRS opening from your mirrors. You’d known that this sport didn’t slow down for anything, but at this moment, you wished it would. 

Your fingers worked faster than your head— a harsh few fingers pressing against the backside of your wheel as you switched out from gear three, having used it a few seconds ago at turn seven, to gear up to a four. 

Lando’s front wing was inches away from your rears, but it was quickly becoming clear that even with his DRS enabled, it wouldn’t be enough to overtake you on the next turn. 

Your soft tires were fresher than his warn mediums, with you having a two-stop pit after a safety car on the forty-fifth lap—  one that lasted for five laps, before resuming on the fiftieth, with you landing p10 after the race resumed back to normal. Though it was a risky call, it was clearly the right one. 

Even with most of your attention on Lando, you were quick to gear down to gear two, your foot pressing harder against the accelerator to turn onto turn nine’s sweeping banked curve effortlessly. The turn left Lando even closer than before— your wheels now side to side rather than front to back. 

Both you and your long-term boyfriend accelerated up in gears after you managed to keep him behind you. You went for gear five rather than seven, which Lando was quick to select. 

As much speed that gear seven gave Lando, it wasn’t ideal considering the distance between his car and your own— especially considering the slightly damp track from the rain that came down hard for the first twenty-five laps. 

Lando tried to overtake you once again, his confidence higher than before due to his influx of speed. However, Lando was a second too short to note his tire's grip, or rather, its lack of grip. 

The McLaren’s front tires were almost too close to the Red Bulls, the air electrifying in a wave of smoke between the two competitors. 

You saw the impact before it happened, your frantic hands turning your wheel as fast as you could, but it was inevitable.

Time seemed to slow the second Lando accidentally understeered on his attempted overtake— his tire making contact with yours within seconds. 

The impact was powerful. It was a sickening mixture of grinding metal and burnt rubber— a combination of puffed smoke and leaked gas that changed the trajectory of the race within seconds.

Your car lifted from the track, the underside of it sliding across Lando’s halo before your tires clipped once again— and then you were airborne. 

Your body was tossed from left to right as your car spiralled in the air. You didn’t make a sound whilst in the air, your hyperventilated breaths coming out loud enough to echo in your ears. 

You barely had a second to brace before your car hit the ground head-on, your stomach dropping as your halo sparked against the track. But then it happened again. 

Your blurred eyes saw nothing but everything at once. It didn’t see the way your car crunched under the impact, nor the way your halo flew off after the third spin, but you saw the sky. 

You saw the buildings that almost disguised themselves as stars, their colours coming together in a bright array of flashing lights. Then you saw the moon, the reflected light glistening along your irises and mixing into the void of your pupils. 

You didn’t know it then, but at that moment, the moon had chosen you. It mirrored your pupils, full and clear. Perhaps the lights were your own stars, as they too shone beautifully across your eyes. 

And just like the moon, you too had to rise before going down. 

The sweat from earlier now felt cool, the change of temperature soothing the burning sensations crawling, no— bubbling, across your skin. You couldn’t see it, but you could feel it. 

The car spun one last time, your head slamming once more against the barriers before you unlimitedly landed sandwiched between it and the surrounding fence.

You were blinking in and out of consciousness since the last hit against your head. You tried to move your arms but were unable to due to the numbness that crawled along them. 

You couldn’t tell if you felt nothing, or felt too much. You felt like you were burning from head to toe, throbbing in places you haven’t even considered. You were too out of it to panic— too tired to pick up on anything other than the moon shining down on you. 

Your eyes closed on their own accord and your head lolled to the side at the same time a loud boom echoed from your car. A lick of fire ravaging the sides of your car, the broken metal mending at its will. 

But even though you were no longer aware of what was happening, it didn’t mean everyone else wasn’t. 

If the deafening silence in the paddock meant anything, everyone was aware. And for the first time in what feels like years, the paddock was completely silent- excluding the few panicked racing engineers in their assigned driver's ears. It seemed that everyone’s eyes were drawn toward the kaleidoscope of red, blue, and papaya. 

It wouldn’t take a genius to realize that the crash was bad— possibly the worst in years. Everyone’s fears were confirmed after the cameras went black, televisions around the world being forced into a loading screen— for those who were watching your onboard view.

Your racing engineer since Formula Four, Santiago, was blubbering in a panic. He was raised from his chair, one that he was quick to kick out after he jumped to his feet at the first spin, his lower stomach pressed against the table in front of him. 

“Yn? Can you hear me?” He shot question after question, each new one coming out faster than the last. His voice broke with every second word, his ears ringing from the silence coming from your end.

His fear was evident from the way he struggled to stand still, his entire body practically vibrating on the spot. He barely managed to catch Christian Horner's worried eyes before shaking his head once, letting him know that he wasn’t getting a response.

“Fuck-” Santiago carelessly swore on the radio, his hot tears racing down his reddened cheeks. “Please, kid. Tell me you’re alright, give me anything. You don’t even have to talk, just press the button, please-” His pleas were once again met with silence, forcing him to talk to himself. 

He barely registered a hand pressing against his back before someone else started talking through the team strategist’s radio, the voice unmistakenly familiar. 

His head snapped to the side, his headphones sliding off, only to be met with Max Verstappen’s sullen face, his mouth moving— saying something to you that Santiago couldn’t hear anymore. He knew how much the older man meant to you, and how close the two of you were. 

If Santiago was like your grid-father, then Max was like your grid-brother. He was quick to take you under his wing from your first race, and he hasn’t let you go since. He was just as attached to you as you were to him, having spent many hours together flying around the world whilst simultaneously looking through your data.

He saw himself in you and gave a piece of you to someone who he’d helped bring into the world. His daughter’s middle name was your first, her small fist curling around one of your fingers as you sobbed into Max’s shoulder at her birth. 

Back then, Max thought the three of you had forever to spend together. He hadn’t rushed any meetings between the two of you, even though you were already at his shared house with Kelly almost every few days. But now, hearing nothing but the silence speaking back to him, Max wishes he had. 

His daughter would carry your name as a legacy, but she’d hold no memories. You would be a ghost following them their entire lives, your presence missing in every small, or big, moment. 

But right now, none of that mattered. Nothing would until he pulled a response from you. His glove-cladded hand trembled as he absentmindedly fiddled with his overalls collar, his bottom teeth rattling with anxiety as your silence bored on.

But when he opened his mouth to question you again, he was stopped by his own engineer pressing a solid hand against his shoulder. Max’s eyes snapped over towards the man standing still beside him, his eyes searching the other man’s for some sort of positive emotion. Instead, he was greeted with a red-cheeked frown and glazed eyes, a sight that would permanently engrave itself into his mind. 

“The marshals existigusted the fire and got her out-” Max’s head was spinning, the last few words repeating through his mind like a broken record. Got her out, they got her out, she will be okay. 

But before Max had a chance to grow hopeful, it all came crashing down with the following statement. “But Max, it’s not looking good. She wasn’t moving when they pulled her out—” 

Max swayed in spot, his eyes fluttering behind his heavy eyelids as the light suddenly got brighter in the center of his vision— the swarming blacks closing in around the edges. The only thing Max could feel before welcoming the numbness was the rapid beating of his heart, his chest burning with each pump. 

—

A creeping force of exhaustion, which was quickly followed by an equally as powerful wave of pain, rushed through Lando’s entire body the second his eyes started blinking open. 

A small moan of pain left his cracked lips when his hand twitched by his side, his fingers clenching into a fist as he tried to gain control of his body. 

Everything from his head to his toes throbbed. His chest heaved upon itself as he gently twisted his neck in a small gesture, attempting to twist around in discomfort.

His eyes were slower to open, his tiredness still pressing down heavily against him. But when he finally got his eyes to open, he will forever wish he never had. 

The first thing he saw was his mom who was sitting on a chair beside his bed, both her pale hands holding one of his in a tight grip. Her head was pressed down against their entwined fingers, her cheek damp against him as gentle breaths left her sleeping form. 

For a minute, he slightly smiled at the sight. It’s been a while since he’d seen his mom in person due to the triple header and short in between getaways with you. 

His smile brightened at the thought of you, and his eyes were already searching the room for your presence before he could reminisce any further. But after seeing that the room was empty sole for himself and his mom, his eyebrows furrowed. 

It wasn’t often that you were away from him, the two of you usually attached at the hip whenever you weren’t forced into your own garages pre-race. Which is why it was confusing for him to see no trace of your presence in his private room, there wasn’t even a sight of your lucky blanket that you’d brought everywhere with you— the one he’d bought with his first paycheck. 

Before Lando could ponder more, the door swung open. At first, Lando thought you’d be the one walking through the door, but upon seeing your teammate, Max Verstappen, a confused frown graced his lips.

“Max? Where’s Y/n?” Max’s head snapped towards Lando, who was cringing at the dryness of his voice, in record time. Lando’s heart dropped at the sight of the man standing before him. Max, who was usually fairly composed, looked like a man whose world crashed down around him. His eyes were bloodshot, but his mouth was what threw Lando’s mind for a spin. 

His lips were pulled up in a heartbreaking scowl, the lines around his mouth appearing more shadowed than ever upon the hospital's harsh lighting. 

Even though Lando’s entire body was sore, the sight forced him into a straighter stance. His back cracked in protest as he pulled himself into a sitting position, a small wince showing on his face when he put too much weight onto his free hand when pushing himself up. 

Max stood still at the door, his back taut as he stared into Lando’s eyes with a look the other man couldn’t decipher. Max’s silence continued as Lando adjusted his bed as best as he could with one free hand and a few casts sprawled across his body.

“You killed her.” Lando’s entire body froze at Max’s statement. His heart fell in his chest and his mouth dried even further within seconds. He blinked his widened eyes at the angered man standing across the room from him. Lando’s mouth opened and closed as he tried to force himself to speak, his words begging to leave his mouth but refusing to speak. 

“W-what? Killed who?” Max’s face crumbled the slightest amount at the genuine fear and confusion radiating from the tattered man on the bed. His hands shook by his side, which Lando also seemed to notice. 

“Killed who, Max?” Lando was growing more and more anxious as the man stayed silent, his lips curling into his mouth as the shakiness spread from his fingers to his knees. 

Lando was growing more irritated by the second. He tried to rake his mind for any indication of what Max could possibly be talking about, but he came up blank every attempt. The only thing he could remember was laying in bed with you this morning, your bare legs tangled together in the mess of sheets and morning light. 

He could still smell your body wash that he stole from you last night, his mind racing with the memories from bed last night when your bodies bent together in a pile of mango-scented soap and quieted giggles as you begged him to laugh quieter. 

He couldn’t remember why he was here, or where you were. And the lack of your presence seemed to heighten his emotions. Lando ignored his hands protest as he leaned his weight against it once again, his body tilting to the side in an attempt to look behind Max and into the hallway, to see if he could see you standing behind him.

Max’s heart stuttered in his chest when he noticed that Lando was looking for you, his eyes watering once again. “Lando-” The boy in question interrupted Max before he could finish his sentence, his voice coming out panicked. 

“Where’s my Y/n? Why isn’t she here? Is she stuck in traffic, or?” 

“Lando, what do you remember?” Max tried to steer the conversation to another topic knowing that if Lando kept asking the same questions, he’d break down again. 

Lando’s eyebrows furrowed, his top lip pulling up in a confused expression, “what do you mean? I remember everything?” Lando finally looked back at Max after he didn’t respond to his question, his eyes finally leaving the door. 

“I don’t think you do-” Lando clocked the choke of Max’s voice mid-sentence and paused once again, his hand becoming clammy in his still-sleeping mom's hand. “Max, what are you talking about?”

“Mate, you’ve been in a coma for eight days.” 

Lando shot up, his hand slipping from his mom's hand before it slapped over his mouth in horror. His eyes were wide when he stared into Max’s, his heart racing. “Did I miss the race?” 

Lando’s voice shook with the amount of adrenaline that shot through his body at the reminder of the race, his thoughts spinning from different scenarios of what could’ve possibly landed him here. 

But then you entered his mind again, and he blanched. If he missed the race then that means you won. You either won the race or spun out at some point. Even though the two of you were tied in points, you had more p1 finishes. Your season was overall better, which would have granted you the win if by chance you also weren’t able to finish the race. 

Lando wasn’t sure how he felt at the thought of losing. Sure, you were his girlfriend— one who he’s been with since the both of you were kids. But this wasn’t as simple as a single loss, it was more. 

“Did she win?”

Max’s face fell even more at the question, his resolve crumbling just as face as it first appeared. His lip quivered between his teeth, his eyes burning as his tears forced their way out. Max couldn’t get himself to verbally respond, and so he just nodded once— then once more as if he needed to solidify it for the both of them. 

Lando rested back down against his bed with a puff of air. He could feel his heart breaking, but he could also feel the warmth of your success blooming in his chest. He allowed himself to feel sad for a few more seconds before a small smile peaked upon him. She did it, just like he knew she would. 

“So where is she? She’s too good to come to see the losers, or what?” Lando tried joking with Max to lighten the mood. His voice came out a little too loud than respectful for the woman sleeping beside his bed. But he didn’t seem to notice, not when he was too busy basking in your win. 

Lando’s smile fell the smallest bit at the silence that followed, his head lifting back up to face towards the third-place champion. His eyes widened even more at the sight of Max crouched against the wall with his head in his hands. 

Lando didn’t know what to think whilst watching the older man’s shoulders shake with each heavy sob that left his mouth. The negative thoughts crept in through a small part of his mind, the darkened tentacles wrapping around his brain as they tried to pull him down into the depths of his thoughts. 

Images began flashing through his mind, colours that clashed together and formed an image of your car flipping over his. He tried shaking the thought away, cursing at his mind for putting such an image in his head. That didn’t happen, there’s no way it did. It must’ve been a fevered image, something that his brain tried forcing him to make-believe. 

“Is Yn okay?” Lando’s voice barely came out louder than a whisper, but still loud enough for Max to hear. Lando felt like a cold bucket of water was dumped over him when Max’s muffled cries only grew louder at the question.

Lando’s ECG machine’s beeps only grew more frequent the longer Max stayed silent. “Max? Is she okay?” He was fully panicking now, his body already moving from his bed with silent protests as Lando reached down into a bag that he found beside on a random chair by his bed. 

Lando didn’t care for anything attached to him, mindlessly ripping them out as he clumsily tumbled around as he pulled on a pair of jogging pants that he’d taken from the bag. 

Max barely looked up at the man in front of him before another person came barreling into the room. His dad. 

All it took was one look at the expression on his dad's face for Lando to realize what happened. His weak body stumbled between the bed and the wall beside him as he forced himself to walk towards his dad, tears streaming down his face as he broke down in front of everyone.

“Lando-” 

Lando barely noticed his now awake mom reaching over the bed, her hands missing his arm by a few inches. Lando finally reached his dad who was standing between him and Max, his father's hands coming down to rest against him. 

His father’s eyes never left his son's face as he watched him break down into himself, his face red and blotchy. His heart sank even more at the sight of his heartbroken son. “Lando, you need to calm down”

Lando flinched back from his dad, a mean look replacing his heartbroken one for a moment. “Don’t tell me to calm down, just tell me where she is!” Lando wasn’t sure if he was yelling at his father or not, not when he could barely hear over the deafening sounds of the crash that were paired with the memories that came rolling into his mind. 

“She’s dead, Lando.” Everyone in the room’s head snapped towards Max’s devastated one. His eyes were closed with his head rolled back against the wall, his hands still pressing against the sides of his head as if his palms could keep the sounds out of his mind. 

“She died on contact, she wasn’t even given a chance to fight.” Lando’s body moved before his mind did, his feet bringing him past his father and out of the room. He couldn’t think, he just ran. 

Lando barely noticed Santiago walking down the hall, his hands carrying a tray of warm coffees. He barely noticed his teammate, Oscar Piastri, trailing behind the older man with his hands in his pockets. He didn’t notice anything. 

“Lando?” Oscar’s voice barely reached Lando’s ears when he passed them, his entire body shutting down on itself. The only thing he could hear was your voice calling out to him from somewhere too far, from somewhere he couldn’t reach. 

The only thing he needed right now was you, but that wasn’t possible. And so he left everyone else, running away in an attempt to find a place where he could be by himself— where he could lose himself in his thoughts without anyone intervening. He wanted to cry, to feel the pain, he wanted to suffer. He didn’t deserve for them to help him, not when he did this to himself— to you. 

He didn’t care that he didn’t have shoes on when he pushed the emergency door open, didn’t care when his feet scraped against the ground as he carried himself into the hospital's back garden. 

He felt out of body when he lay against the soil, his chest rapidly rising and falling. The ground was damp where he laid out, the wet grass entwining through his hair in a cool hug. 

His arms were wrapped around himself— overlapping at his chest with his fingers digging into his shoulder. The cast on his leg was ignored, as was the one on his waist, and arm.

His eyes were staring up at the dark sky, the tears spilling down and mixing with the raindrops. If you were the moon, then he was the clouds. They cried with him, the entire sky mourning and sharing his pain.

The sky was full of clouds, the weather matching his very existence. Sobs left Lando’s mouth as the walls of your future home collapsed around him. The giggles of your future kids faded into background noise as their image faded into nothing more than an image of what once was. 

His life with you suffocated in his lungs, your loss sucking the air out of him. He knew he’d be heartbroken when one of you inevitably gave into time, but he thought he had forever left. He thought he’d still have you. 

And even outside, he was still just as alone as he was when he woke up. Life felt like a cruel joke, the clouds covering the entire sky when he wanted nothing more than to see you. 

Sure, you weren’t actually a star, nor were you the moon, but you were his. You’d once told him that when you died you’d become a star, a line you’d stolen from some cheesy movie that the two of you watched after a particularly difficult race for the two of you.

You said that all he had to do was look up, and he’d see you again. But you lied, or maybe you were just punishing him. But still, he needed to talk to you— to apologize and plead for you to come back. 

He shakily raised onto his knees, his hands staying in their position as he rose to his feet. He walked towards a specific flower that was sprouted beautifully amongst the withered ones beside it. One of his hand’s fingers untangled from his chest to graze one of his fingers gently against the petals with the utmost delicacy, the water from the rain collecting on his fingertips. 

“You won,” Lando spoke to you through the flower, his voice barely louder than a whisper, his voice trapped in the chambers of his throat. “I mean, of course, you did. We all knew you would, even though I still hoped for a chance…” His other hand twitched uncontrollably against his shoulder, his casted arm getting undoubtedly more irritated by the second. 

But none of that mattered, nothing did. Not since he found out he lost you for good, and he wasn’t sure if anything ever would anymore. His throat itched as the burning behind his eyes grew hotter, his eyes fluttering closed as he tried to keep his tears at bay. He didn’t want you to see him cry, not when this might’ve been his last chance for you to forgive him. 

“I’m sorry, fuck, I’m so sorry.” His knees hit the grass before he had time to catch himself, not that he would’ve tried to. His voice broke as he pleaded with your ghost, begging for forgiveness. His hand left the flower to wrap back around himself, his body needing the extra warmth.

Naively, he thought that if he begged enough, wished upon every lucky number, the world would bring you back. That he could go back in time, to Abu Dhabi, to stop himself from ever getting into the car. From killing you.

Lando’s eyes, which closed without him realizing, opened after a particularly harsh cough— his hand moving down to rest against his chest as it caved into itself. But instead of seeing his familiar scratched hand, he saw a pool of blood.

His eyes widened in fear as his eyes deceived him, torturing him to see something that wasn’t there. He knew he wasn’t seeing his own blood, but yours. Frantic breaths left his lips as his body gave up once again— his lungs refusing to inhale enough air to get let out. “N-no, p-please! M’sorry, i-i didn’t mean to—“ He was spiralling through bated air. His bloodied hand reached up to claw at his neck, his eyes forced closed due to the amount of tears leaking from his eyes. 

His lips were salty as they trembled against each other, mouthing each repetitive plea. But nothing changed, you were still gone. His panicking was getting worse by the second, his knees aching due to the bruises surrounding them. 

He surrendered to the ground beneath him, his back meeting the hug he’d earlier departed from. Warm air suddenly caressed his cheek in a fluttering goodbye, a fallen leaf following the current and landing on his cheek. 

His eyes opened as he tried to blink away the pain in his eyes, but his entire body melted at the sight above him. 

In the clouds, there was a small opening. A pocket of sky. And in the pocket, there was a singular star, one brighter than any he’d ever seen before. It was you, it had to be— you promised. You promised. “I love you so much, please come back to me.” His voice broke between every world, but he’d never lie to you. 

He loved you so much that when the clouds covered the star once again, he continued lying there, hoping you’d feel bad enough to come back to him and force him back inside. But you didn’t come, you couldn’t. And even if you wanted to, it wasn’t possible. And there was no one to blame but himself.

Instead, he was forced up by two rough hands pulling his soaked body up and into a tight hug. A jacket was wrapped around his body, his head lolling into the neck of whoever was holding him. 

“You can’t do this to yourself, Lando.” The voice was undoubtedly Oscar’s, the gentle tone as soft as always. “She wouldn’t want you to be like this.”

Lando didn’t answer but instead wrapped his hands tighter around himself. “Your parents are worried, come back inside with me.” It was more of a statement than a question.

But Lando, once again didn’t respond, but he allowed the younger man to pull him up. He didn’t talk the entire way back into the hospital and barely reacted to anything anyone said. 

The only sign that he was conscious was the small look back to the garden, the flower that was sprouted earlier now appearing just as dead as the others. 

A small smile kissed his lips, even when you were gone you were still looking out for him. And for now, he’ll do the same. Now that his angel has returned, he’ll have to hold onto your memory forever.

[ponchig]

COMING SOON

aside from selling “Degrees of Lewdity” we also planning to open pre order for the visual novel content as keychain as well :’]

so far 14 Days with you and The kid at the back will join us in the next pre order along with DOL

so whoever loves all the games above, the form we give you guys in next post will included all three of them for you to choose, and we will also have new epoxy standee for a specific character in DOL ✨ so ples stay tuned for them till the end! 🫶

[aydentew3102]

Dandys world: guardianview concept art

Im still not sure how the au’s aesthetic should look yet, so everything place just look really bad

BUT- i did finished some character design stuff! Everything is work in progress and is prone to change tho, so i would like some criticism and advice

Main toons:

Holiday toons won’t be appearing, atleast not yet

Random environment sketch

Actual art will come soon

Well, if you like what you see, stay tuned!

[cherryblossms]

it was so damn hard for garam to control himself; the way his cheeks and his ears glowed bright red, the smile that just wouldn't stop growing, even the straggling tear or two rolling from his eyes as he blinked. angel was such a good person, so warm and comforting. someone garam still didn't believe he was worthy or deserving of. he didn't even see himself as a bad person, really. he made bad choices, he was selfish and willingly ignorant when it came to other people, their wants and desires. axel was more along the lines of someone whom garam felt fit him better, he was just as selfish and ignorant, and made bad choices. he hurt willingly hurt people he claimed to love. it almost made him feel guilty, giving his heart to angel when he wasn't entirely sure he could handle angel's with just as much care. at mention of the camera, all garam wanted to do was hide himself from angel but instead, he just nodded his head and pulled away as angel moved to unlock the door. that was something the two of them needed to talk about: his little side hustle. garam had no idea if angel knew about his onlyfans account, he wasn't extremely open about it on his social media but the links were posted so anybody could see he did, indeed, have an account and was relatively active on it. he also needed to maintain that activity regardless of where he was staying, it was a topic that needed to be discussed but garam knew he'd have to find the confidence to bring it up in the first place. garam was quick to put his button up shirt back on, though he only buttoned up the two in the middle of his shirt which left both his upper chest and a very small portion of his lower chest exposed with the right movement. he decided to forgo his sweater, deciding he was warm enough as it was and the added material would only cause him discomfort. then he grabbed the clothes they brought in, holding them in a sort of jumbled up mess in both arms as he exited the dressing room and started walking back through the store. he lead them to the registers, grabbing a couple pairs of socks that surely wouldn't be warm enough for why he wanted new ones but they had cute characters on them and who was he to pass on cute characters, on the way. once they were there, he put all of the clothes they'd gathered — whether they tried them on or not didn't matter — on the desk to be rung up. he was quiet as they waited, not lifting his eyes away from the counter in fear that the person ringing their clothes up was making googly eyes at angel — garam didn't want his possessiveness or jealousy to show again. it wasn't until it came time to pay that garam looked up, a man who seemed to be around their age standing on the other side of the counter. garam smiled at him, friendly but empty, before thanking him and wishing the man a good day. axel's brother being presence was nearly forgotten, having slipped his mind after his little confession to angel. garam really didn't want to look around to see if the man was still lingering but he also didn't want to randomly run into him anywhere throughout the store. subtlety was his choice, grabbing the bags in one hand as he scanned what he could see of the store. "so," he drew the singular word out, almost in a sing-song tune, as he wrapped his free hand around angel's arm. "what do you and darius like to do when you're together? like outside of working hours, what do you two do for fun, to pass time?" garam wasn't trying to instigate anything, it was his attempt to get to know darius better through angel so he wouldn't have to find things out about the man from in person experience. if angel liked him, there had to be something good in him that garam hadn't had the opportunity to see just yet. "maybe sometime, we could have him come over to hang out. i was serious when i said i wanted to be friends with your friends."

Angel’s chest ached in a way he didn’t quite expect it to. Not from pain, not from anger—but from the raw, unfiltered vulnerability Garam had just handed him. There was no mask, no seduction, no performance. Just *him*. All of him��afraid, uncertain, clinging tightly to the idea that he could lose what they had just because someone else might try and take it. And Angel knew that fear. God, *he knew it*—how it lived under the skin like a second pulse, whispering that nothing good ever stays, that love was conditional, that one misstep and the people you care about would find better. He stayed quiet for a moment after Garam finished speaking, letting it all settle. Letting Garam *see* that he wasn’t running from those words, or pulling away from the messiness of it. No, he was still here and he wasn’t going anywhere. Then, Angel gently touched Garam’s face, thumbs brushing lightly against the flushed heat of his cheeks. His eyes flicked toward the tear he hadn’t missed, even if Garam had wiped it away quickly, as if ashamed to let it show. “You don’t have to apologize for being scared,” Angel said, low and steady. “That kind of honesty? That takes more strength than anything else. You’re not weak for feeling this way. And you’re not *too much*.” He leaned in and kissed Garam’s forehead, slow and deliberate, letting his lips linger there like he could press reassurance into his skin. He loved this side of Garam, taking accountability and being honest with him. This was all Angel ever wanted from any partner or whatever limbo they were in right now. “I hear you. About Darius. About all of it.” His voice remained soft, but there was a firm edge of conviction behind it now. “You’re not asking too much. I’ll talk to him. Set boundaries. If you’re uncomfortable with us being alone, then that’s something I respect.” He pulled back just enough to meet Garam’s gaze again, brushing a hand gently through his hair like it calmed *him* as much as it soothed Garam. “And no one,” Angel continued, voice tight with emotion, “*no one* gets to tell me you’re not good enough for me. Not Darius, not anyone. Because I know you. I know your heart. And yeah, you’ve got some fears—but so do I. And I *still choose you.*” His hand lowered to clasp Garam’s again, fingers curling around his with warm certainty. “You’re mine. And I’m yours. That’s not changing because someone else wishes it could.” There was a pause—just long enough for the words to sink in—before Angel offered the smallest, most tender smile.“And when we do have our first time,” he added, lips curving with a hint of that usual charm, “it’s gonna be somewhere that *feels* like ours. Not rushed, not messy. Just us. All of us.”Then, a beat. The three-letter words hung on his tongue but he swallowed them away, not yet. Not like this. “Let’s quickly pick out some basics for you and buy that sweater. Then run over to grab the camera and go home. I’m going to cook us a great dinner and we can work together to get your room together. As much as I would love for you to stay in my room forever you will want space eventually” Angel grinned pecking the man’s cheek as he unlatched the dressing room door. As pent-up as he was Angel couldn’t wait to get home where he could poke at Garam a little to have a repeat of the morning. But for now they still had things to do.

[thealchemistbae]

Signs as Unpopular Opinions 💭

Disclaimer: This post is for entertainment purposes only.

thealchemistbae © do not copy, redistribute, or edit my content.

If you enjoyed this post, you can leave me a tip via PayPal at goddessguapa@gmail.com or via Venmo @goddessguapa. Thank you.

💭: ARIES thinks everyone's too soft. Like sorry you need 12 business days and a TED talk to make a decision. Aries would simply just do it and cause mild chaos but at least something HAPPENED.

💭: TAURUS will literally fight you over the idea that brunch is elite. They want steak at 5pm, in sweats, no social interaction required.

💭: GEMINI believes liking attention doesn't make you fake; it makes you self-aware and marketable. If you can't flirt, gossip, and network all at once, wyd????

💭: CANCER will unironically tell you that cutting people off is an act of radical self-love. You were a bad vibe, Goodbye forever.

💭: LEO is fully convinced that "main character syndrome" was created by side characters who are jealous. If you're not living delusionally like a Leo, wyd.

💭: VIRGO believes being organized is a love language and if you can't alphabetize your own trauma, they literally don't trust you.

💭: LIBRA honestly feels closure is optional. If they leave you on read, consider that the closure.

💭: SCORPIO is like "If I lurk, that's MY hobby. You post your life; I'm just tuning in like it's Netflix."

💭: SAGITTARIUS will scream about how commitment isn't scary. being bored is. They'd rather ghost you than sit through one dry convo.

💭: CAPRICORN will die on the hill that hustle culture is only toxic if you're losing. Winners just call it Tuesday.

💭: AQUARIUS feels deep in their soul that being different is not a personality trait unless you're actually interesting, which they obviously are.

💭: PISCES genuinely believes that staying delulu protects their peace and honestly, they might be onto something.

thealchemistbae © do not copy, redistribute, or edit my content.

If you enjoyed this post, you can leave me a tip via PayPal at goddessguapa@gmail.com or via Venmo @goddessguapa. Thank you.

[rika-mmendmethings]

Interdimensional Epiphany l Rafayel

CHAPTER 4

Chapter 3 | Chapter 5 next Thursday

Summary: A fortnight of compensated leave from your company was supposed to be a rejuvenating experience. Things take an unexpected turn when Rafayel, your choice of ML, starts becoming self-aware. His love knows no bounds, not even interdimensional ones.

Warning(s): Subject to change as we progress further into the story. The series has major character deaths, subdued manipulation, heavy angst with a happy(?) ending, slight yandere themes, fluff, did I mention angst? For this chapter: none I guess???

Word count: 2.2k

Playlist coming soon.

Notes: Long chapter to compensate for lost time ;) Who do you think is responsible for what happened to Mo Art Studio? Things will start to get really crazy from the next chapter, so be prepared, y'all. Anyway, hopefully, you enjoy the read and stay tuned for the series. Lmk if you wish to be added to the tag list for this. ♥

Taglist: @loveanddeephistory @ittybittyfanblog @lyssandraxo @micasosa34 @hyein21 @browneyedgirl22 @yournextdoorhousewitch @blessdunrest @altair718 @3fg7 @froleineeeee @mikachux3 @aiehtta @beaconsxd @poptrim @animecrazy76 @zackenblacken @rainycreationfart @invaderzia1 @his-ocean-emissary @multisstuff @wondering-again @some-girl-idk @itsrandompersonyall

You had been fumbling with your phone for hours, clinging to the desperate hope that if you rebooted it enough times and installed at least three different antivirus apps, your game would magically fix itself. But no — every single time you opened Love and Deepspace, there he was. Rafayel. Sitting smugly on the sofa, arms crossed, eyebrows arched in that infuriating way. No matter what you did, none of the other characters came back. Just him. Mocking you with his pixel-perfect posture.

As the night wore on, your panic grew, and your “solutions” became increasingly... unhinged. Somewhere around 3:30 AM, you had decided it was time to escalate. Your phone was placed in the middle of a ritual circle, because clearly, logic and Infold’s tech support had failed you. Unfortunately, you didn’t have access to red ochre or actual candles, so you made do with chili powder and tea lights. You had briefly considered ordering incense or essential oils, but delivery wouldn’t arrive until the next afternoon — and honestly, you weren’t sure you’d live to see the delivery man.

With four or five generous pinches of chili powder, you traced a crude circle on the floor, following dubious instructions from a YouTube video. A six-year-old could’ve drawn a better one, but you were far too sleep-deprived and frazzled to care. You sat inside the circle and launched the cursed app, arranging the tea lights as it loaded.

The moment Rafayel’s image appeared, lounging casually on the sofa, you threw your head back and began muttering incantations and prayers you had hastily scribbled down earlier. After a few intense minutes of chanting, you opened your eyes and stared at the screen with bated breath.

Rafayel remained still, resting his chin on his hand as he watched yet another one of your antics. While your theatrics were beginning to border on ridiculous, there was something inexplicably endearing about the sight of you — paprika streaks smudged on your chin, clutching a black plastic birthday cake knife like it was a sacred athame. He decided to entertain you a little so right when you tapped the screen, he spoke casually, “It’s nice to lounge on the sofa. Wanna give it a try?”  

He had watched as your face brightened and you let out a sigh of relief after hearing him speak one of the programmed dialogues. A grin had spread across his face since he knew he was about to ruin your little moment of happiness.

Just as you tapped the screen to check, his voice echoed from the app, “Take a chill pill, cutie.”

His grin widened as you stared in stunned disbelief. He tilted his head slightly, still resting his chin on his palm, eyes never leaving you as you scrambled to your feet in a dazed panic.

Enough was enough. You grabbed your phone, shut it off with a dramatic jab of your finger, and face-planted onto your bed with a muffled groan. You’d deal with the consequences of this digital nightmare later. For now, you gave your exhausted eyes their much needed sleep.

So much for your relaxing little vacation…

The next morning, you sat comfortably on your bed, your laptop resting atop a pillow on your lap as you scoured the internet in search of a logical explanation for the bizarre events unfolding around you. Despite your determined efforts, nothing remotely relevant came up.

In a final attempt, you reached out to a few other players through your SNS accounts. The responses were underwhelming — some mild backlash, a sprinkle of sarcasm, and one brutally honest comment that gave you an unwanted reality check. Discouraged, you finally shut your laptop with a sigh, giving up on your search for answers.

A glance at the clock told you it was around ten in the morning — your usual time to log into the game. With a small flicker of hope, you powered on your phone, silently praying that whatever strange glitch had taken over would’ve resolved itself overnight.

The app loaded, and there he stood — Rafayel, wearing his God of the Tides set.

“Good morning, beautiful,” he greeted smoothly.

You exhaled in quiet defeat. So much for divine intervention. Your hopes had clearly been ignored by whatever higher being was in charge of otome game anomalies.

Refusing to give him the satisfaction of your attention, you continued with your daily tasks in silence, not sparing him even a glance. As you flicked from the stamina tab to the shop, his voice trailed after you like silk.

“You know,” he drawled, tone laced with a playful charm, “women who ignore me? Exactly my type.”

He didn’t get to enjoy his own flirtation for long. You navigated away to the task menu, claimed your rewards, and braced yourself for having to interact with him for the sake of the task.

When you returned to the main screen, he was already gazing at you with hearts in his eyes. He sighed dreamily, a soft smile curling on his lips.

“Perfect.”

You dragged a hand down your face, heat blooming across your cheeks. Taking in a few steadying breaths, you mentally braced yourself to confront the truth — or rather, the surreal presence of your fictional crush who now stood before you, partially real. You opened your eyes to find him watching you with unwavering admiration, as though he had all the time in the world. The intensity of his gaze sent your stomach into a series of dizzying somersaults.

A thought strikes you and you decide to check whether he is abHolding up two fingers, you asked, “How many fingers am I holding up?”

“Two,” he answered effortlessly.

You shifted to four fingers and repeated the question. “And now?”

“Four. Gorgeous, what is all this?” he asked with a tilt of his head, his brows lifting in amused curiosity.

You ignored both the question and the smile threatening to tug at your lips at the sound of his nicknames for you. Reaching for a sticky note, you scribbled a short phrase, then held it up in front of your face.

“Alright,” you said, “read what’s written on this.”

He narrowed his eyes slightly, then flashed a slow smile. “I love you.”

Brows knitting in confusion, you glanced at the paper and read aloud, “No, it doesn’t say that—” But your voice faltered as realization washed over you. Your eyes darted back to his teasing expression, and your lips parted in shock while a deep blush crept over your face. 

As if to make matters worse, he blows you a kiss and follows it with a series of exaggerated, ridiculous faces. Despite yourself, laughter bubbles up and escapes your lips. Embarrassed by your own reaction, you hastily cover your mouth with one hand, your head dipping low as you try to stifle the mirth and steady your breathing.

Across the screen, Rafayel lifts a hand, his fingers hovering just above the digital barrier that separates your two worlds. His voice is tinged with something gentler beneath the jest. “Careful, darling,” he whispers, eyes glinting with mischief. “I’m the siren here. It’s rather cruel of you to try and steal my title with a laugh that enchanting.”

You don’t respond at first. You simply stare at him, eyes fixed, expression unreadable as a storm of emotions churn silently beneath the surface. For a brief moment, your throat tightens with words you can't quite say.

Before he can ask what’s wrong, you murmur, barely above a whisper, “I have to go.”

Without waiting for a response, you exit the game, the screen fading to black in a breath. You switch off your phone again as an added layer of defense, though against what exactly — him, your feelings, or yourself — you’re no longer certain. You lie back on your bed, eyes tracing the cracks in the ceiling, searching for answers that refuse to come. All the while your heart and your mind wage a paradoxical war.

Rafayel stared at the empty screen for a long while after you disappeared.

The usual spark in his expression dimmed, lips parted as if caught mid-thought. He exhaled a slow breath, leaning back on the sofa as the silence wrapped around him like a too-tight cloak. Fingers drummed against the desk, tinged with something unresolved.

He wasn’t angry. Not really. Just… frustrated.

Not at you, never at you — but at the invisible boundary you kept between the two of you. One that he knew, deep down, wasn’t purposefully placed, but had always been there. He respected it. He always has. But that didn’t make it any easier to stand on the other side of it, watching you retreat just as he felt you begin to reach for him.

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk and burying his face in his hands. Then—

Bzzz... bzzz... bzzz...His phone lit up against the dark wood of the desk. “Thomas <333” it read.

Rafayel narrowed his eyes, letting it ring out once. Twice. Three times. He wasn't in the mood to talk business, not tonight. But the buzzing didn’t stop. It continued with a sort of urgency that started to scrape against his nerves.

Finally, with a tired huff, he snatched the phone and answered it.

“What?”

The voice on the other end was panicked, shaky. “Rafayel— Rafayel, it’s the studio… it's on fire.”

“I’m here — right now,” Thomas continued, his voice breaking. “I'm behind the trucks — they’re trying to contain it, but it’s bad, man. Really bad. It lit up fast. People are saying it might’ve been electrical but— I don’t know— I don’t know. Everything’s going up.”

Rafayel didn’t hear the rest of what Thomas was saying.

The words — “fire,” “bad,” “going up” — were already drilling into his mind. For a second, all he could do was stare blankly at the floor, phone still pressed to his ear though the call had ended.

He shot up from the sofa like the floor beneath him had turned to lava, heart throbbing in disbelief. It wasn’t Lemuria, no. It didn’t have the tide-soaked serenity of his undersea birthplace, where the water hummed through the golden walls like lullabies. But Mo had become something akin to that. A strange, crooked version of “home,” built not of sea salt and coral reefs, but canvases and memories smeared in oil paint.

That was where the soul of his work lived. Where he painted when the insomnia hit. Where he sculpted his silence. Where portraits of you were lined on the walls and the floors, behind locked doors, waiting for a day that maybe, someday, might come when he’d be able to show those to you.

And now it was burning.

Rafayel stormed out of Destiny Café, nearly knocking over a chair as he went but he didn’t stop to apologize. He yanked his car door open and threw himself inside, engine snarling to life with a growl that mirrored the knot in his throat. Tires screeched as he pulled out of the parking lot, speeding through the dusty roads that led to Whitesand Bay.

The scent of ash still hung thick in the air by the time Rafayel reached Mo Art Studio. The sky above the house glowed faintly orange from the remnants of the firelight, flickering like the last breath of a dying star. His residence stood — or what was left of it — collapsed and half-swallowed by soot.

A small crowd lingered on the edges, murmuring in hushed voices, faces pale from having witnessed that sight. But many were already dispersing, retreating now that the spectacle had ended. The fire trucks were still parked near the wreckage, lights flashing low. Firefighters stood around Thomas, briefing him in clipped, official tones as they packed away equipment.

Rafayel stepped out of the car slowly, the door left ajar behind him as if forgotten. His boots crunched over scorched gravel as he approached, each step weighed down with dread.

He dropped to his knees.

The impact echoed in the hollowness of his chest more than the ground beneath him. He couldn’t speak. His hands sat limp by his sides as he stared up listlessly.

Thomas turned at the sound and rushed over to him with widened eyes and voice tight. “Rafayel—Raf, I—” 

He didn’t finish his words after he saw the look on the artist’s face. He simply knelt beside him and gently placed a hand on his shoulder, offering unspoken comfort. 

Rafayel’s eyes flared, aglow with a piercing ultramarine light that shimmered like the deep sea and glimmering fins of the same tincture, unfurled from just above his ears. They pulsed faintly, mirroring the rise and fall of his breath. Rafayel’s jaw clenched, hands fisted at his sides, twitching with restrained fury.

Thomas withdrew from him slightly, but he didn’t look away. He’d seen glimpses of this before — but never like this. Never when the sorrow ran so deep it cracked the surface.

Rafayel stayed like that for a long moment before starting, voice low but sharp as the edge of a blade. “I want to know everything,” he said. “How it started. When. Who was near the building. Who had access. Cameras. Witnesses.”

He saw Thomas nod immediately from the corner of his eyes before patting his back comfortingly. Rafayel only stared at the debris of his house blankly, at the second floor specifically where all his portraits of you had been kept. And in the distance, the sea began to stir — not in fury, but with a tight-lipped menace, like a clenched jaw moments before a scream, holding back a violence that needed only the slightest provocation to spill free. 

Check out my other works if you liked this ♥

[rhaenyraeri]

Through the Valley

Joel Miller x Reader

Summary: Your life with Joel and Sarah changes during one fateful night.

Warnings: gore, angst, canon character death

Note: Bare with me, I’ve never posted on Tumblr before lol. Depending on how well this does, I may make this into a chaptered fic!

The city lights of Austin lit up the night sky like a radiant dance of stars. It was beautiful, sure, but it was nothing compared to the peaceful, welcoming, dimly lit outskirts of the town. The town that brought the county to life, packed full of bustling streets, small businesses and corporations alike, and overall, the best place to get supplies you’d need. Whether it’d be that specific spice for that one dish you’d heard about from a friend, or a nice new outfit for a night out with friends, downtown Austin was the place to be.

On September 27th, 2003, however, you could be anywhere else. The streets filled with chaos, citizens running against oncoming traffic to escape the hell unleashed upon them. They were.. eating each other? What the fuck could’ve caused this? How the fuck did it happen? Where do you go? Can you survive?

—

It was September 26th, 2003. The sun barely peeked its bright head over the clouds and through the blinds of the messy bedroom. It wasn’t messy, per se, just.. cluttered — if you can justify that difference. You’d woken up moments before a shuffle on the opposite side of the bed brought your exhausted figure to alert. A hand slid around your waist, pulling you back into a warm bare chest.

“Good morning, baby,” that slow, deep, raspy voice murmured out into your ear. That voice.. you’d never grow tired of it. How could you? You took a deep sigh, and your usual light smile grew as you realized the familiar tune of that sultry voice. Joel. The man you’ve been in love with for 4 years, the best man you could’ve ever had the fortune of knowing. He worked hard for his daughter, Sarah. There were nights he wouldn’t come home, nights he’d be home late, days he’d forget to let her know where he was, and days he’d be busy until the sunlight hours faded away into the dim start of dusk, leaving no room for doing anything requiring the bright light of the sun. But Sarah knew that, despite it all, he’d always be there for her. He was the best dad she could ask for. Sure, most of the time he was working or didn’t have time to do things with her but he found time for his babygirl. It wasn’t ideal, he didn’t want it to be that way, but he had to make it work — for him and for Sarah.

“Good morning, Joel. When did you get back?,” you said with a light hum, eyes fighting to stay open. “Around 5:30, had a long night.” You knew that, most nights were. Your eyes trailed over to the clock — 7:02. He’d only been asleep a total of maybe an hour, if that. You rolled over to look at him, taking in that handsome, scruffy face of the man you loved. The man you’d die for, and to him, as he looked at your flawless, gorgeous face, he’d do the same. He bent his head forward a bit to give you a kiss on the forehead. There weren’t grand acts of affection between the two of you, which made small actions like that mean so much more. You raised a hand up from beyond the disheveled tan and black bed sheets to touch his face. You’d never grow tired of seeing that every morning. “Happy birthday handsome,” you said, running that same hand through his dark brown hair. “Ah, you know I don’t celebrate that, it’s just another day of my life to m-,” “Oh hush, you know Sarah thinks it’s important and so do I, so you’re gonna let us make today about you and you’re gonna like it,” you cut him off, a smirk grew to your face. Craning your head up a bit, you leaned in to kiss him, eyes closed, content and just before your lips touch his — there’s a rapid knock on the door.

It’s Sarah.

“Dad, Y/N! Alarm!,” she calls from the opposite side of the bedroom’s door. He sighed and pulled the cover off his body, leaving his bare torso on display for you to stare at as he looked for his shirt. You couldn’t lay there and take in the sight for long, you had to get up, but.. with a sight like that, the morning light coming through the blinds, almost highlighting Joel like a stage light and he was the main role, you would never get enough. Getting out of the bed, you scanned the room for some clothes, and switched into your favorite black and green flannel and those jeans you wore to death. Going downstairs, you followed behind Joel as he zipped his pants up. The smell of eggs and bacon filled the room. You turned the corner and seen Sarah with two pans on the stove, and frantically looking through the cabinets. “Where’s the pancake mix?,” she turns to ask Joel, “I was gonna make you birthday pancakes.” “Ah, you know I don’t really like pancakes,” he said, pouring his coffee into a mug. “I know you don’t like them, it was for Y/N and I’s benefit,” she looked up at you and grinned. You weren’t Sarah’s mother, and it took a while for her to grow used to you. You never wanted to be a replacement, and never wanted to treat Sarah like a kid, she had a strong head on her shoulders, and being Joel’s daughter, that was expected. Over the years, however, Sarah grew to love you, and you loved Sarah like your own. The two of you didn’t have a typical mother-daughter relationship, one some people didn’t understand, but as Joel’s girlfriend of 4, now almost 5, years, you and Sarah were close. You’d always joked and had fun with each other, and with you having a morning job, that meant you could be at the house with Sarah after she got home from school. If she wanted to go out with her friends or go out and eat, she knew she could count on you to be there for her.

“So, how old are you again?” “36.” “Gonna have to wear diapers soon,” she joked back almost instinctively, making you suppress your laugh. Getting up from the table, you took your plate to the sink and grabbed your jacket. “Where’re you goin’?,” Joel asks, eyes glued to you, now shuffling to get your things together. “Oh just somewhere.. you know that thing?” “What thing?” “You’ll see,” and with that you went out the front door, leaving Joel confused and Sarah with a smirk.

You hated not telling Joel where you planned to go, but what fun would it be if you spoiled his birthday present? A few weeks ago, you were out doing some weekly errands and saw a flyer for custom leather accessories, and knowing the state of Joel’s wallet, thought it would be a perfect gift. One with brown leather, engraved on the front is Sarah’s initials, and her birthday on the back. Trouble is, it was in the city. You didn’t mind going but if there was a way around it, you’d try find it. But Joel meant enough to you, and you knew he’d love it, so you put the custom order in weeks ago, and went to pick it up that night after you did some other errands.

There wasn’t much traffic out earlier in the day, but sometime that evening there was a pretty big wreck that blocked the ways in and out of Austin, and at this point you had been in the stopped traffic for hours. It was nearing nighttime, and there was no way to turn. Wallet in hand, you fumbled it around and mumbled, “So much for a present, huh?,” and laid it down in the passenger seat. There was no way you’d get it to him anytime soon.

At some point you dozed off to sleep, and when you woke and came to your senses, you looked out. Still no movement, and it’s now past 12 am. You opened your car door and got out, looking to see if there was any sign of movement of the traffic. There’s doors open, windows smashed, belongings tossed all around, and is that.. blood?

You quickly rushed over, looking for a sign of life. Approaching a beaten up rusty red truck, you noticed a younger man in the driver seat, head rested against the window. Opening the door, supporting the man, you offered him assistance, “Hey! Hey man, you okay? I’ll call for an ambulance.” Reaching in your pocket, you pulled your phone out and the man groaned in pain but.. it sounded different. You tried to support him and lean him against his driver seat, and raised the phone to your ear. “Okay, I’m calling for help, just stay w- what the hell man?,” He snapped and growled at you, grabbing with intense strength at your wrist, a look in his eyes indicating he was in pain but there was something more sinister happening. Panicking, you threw your phone down and ran as fast as you could to your car, navigating the best you could through the stopped traffic and against the shoulder of the road. You felt bad leaving him but.. what the fuck was going on with him? Never before had you saw.. that look. A look of agony but a look of hunger for you.. for human flesh?

Speeding down the shoulder, a distant explosion blinds you, making you slam on the brakes. “Okay, what the actual FUCK is going on?,” beating around for your phone, you realized you must’ve dropped it back at the guy in his truck. Again, you drove as fast as you could, trying to find an alternative route to get out of downtown Austin. All you wanted was to make sure Joel and Sarah were okay. Fuck the city, you had a family you needed to get to. Driving through narrow half-blocked roads and just barely missing debris, you hit the centermost part of downtown, and heard a crash to your right. Is that… no. It can’t be. Is that.. Tommy’s truck? Shit. All but jumping out of your car, you ran over. It was. It is. Shit, it’s not just Tommy, it’s Joel and Sarah.

“Joel! Sarah! Are you both okay?,” voice riddled with fear, your eyes scanning them over for injuries, silently praying they’re okay. You noticed Sarah wincing, and Joel had that furrowed look of pain — not for himself, but for her. “Her leg hurts pretty bad, she can’t walk on it,” he looks you in the eyes, seeing your face change to worried as you went over to Sarah, holding your hand to the side of her face, “I’m so sorry, sweetie, we’ll get you to safety.”

“Joel! Guys we gotta go, fuck they’re coming!,” Tommy yelled, staring behind the three of you, gun pointed up. “Don’t worry about me, just worry about getting her somewhere safe!” There was no plan, no idea where to go. Every corner now was covered in the dead or the.. undead eating the dead. Hearing Joel comforting Sarah broke your heart, you knew that girl was hurting and you couldn’t do anything about it. Dodging through stores, you had Joel and Sarah go first as you kept yourself towards the back. If any one of those… things.. were to get anyone, it’d be you. As long as they didn’t hurt your loved ones in any way. But there was just too many of them. There was no way those people were getting to any of them. There was no other way. You had to distract them.

“Joel! I’m gonna get ‘em after me just run as long and as far as you can with Sarah just.. save her,” you yelled, and you didn’t care what he said. If you died trying to keep them safe, then so be it. You look back long enough to see maybe just a few after them, and a hoard of probably 8 or more behind you. Running down a random narrow alley, you got thrown forward and into a chain link gate by an explosion, somehow just barely scraping you but managing to kill the ones after you. Gathering up your strength, you kicked the fenced door in and tried to find a safe way out of there.

Then, you heard it.

“No, don’t shoot! She’s not goddamn infected, she’s just a kid, she got hurt! No please, don’t sh-“

Gunshot.

Then another.

And another.

A wave of dread, of anger, of sadness, everything rushed through your veins, running your blood cold at the sound. It was Joel.

They killed him.

They killed Sarah.

Your two favorite people in the world, both just this morning you had breakfast with, looking forward to giving Joel his present, and seeing his reaction to the watch Sarah worked hard to get repaired for him, knowing that would make his day.

Both gone just like the snap of your fingers. You hit the ground and lost it. Wailing, screaming, sobbing, cursing.. none of that would ever be able to describe how you felt. Your family, gone like a wisp of an afternoon wind gust.

What the fuck were you to do now? What was the purpose? You just sat there, crying until there was no more.

Hours had passed, too many to count, as you were left defeated in the street, the sounds of the undead in the distance. You saw movement from the corner of your teary eyes, looking slowly to see the culprit. One of those hideous monsters, crawling towards you, both legs gone, and one arm in tact. Scanning around, you found a rusty pipe from the alley, raised it, and hit the creature in the head. Again. Again. Again. It was dead at this point. Maybe not forever, but it was for now. Those things took your love and the girl you thought of as a daughter away from you. Now they’re all going to pay. No matter the cost, each of those vile, wretched undead creatures will die.

[killjamxxx]

The first episode of KILLJAM XXX is out now, wherever you get your podcasts, with new episodes every Wednesday!

Whether it’s autistic bi gals with giant machetes, transmasc cyborg con men with a gun for an arm, an evil CEO who loves getting his hands dirty (with blood, specifically), a charming British rogue, a killer clown lady, a giant gay snake woman, or a cool buff butch with a big knife and an eyepatch, we’ve probably got a character you’ll like. But you’ll only meet ‘em all if you stay tuned! 😜

FIND OUT MORE AND FOLLOW OUR FEEDS HERE!

Cast (In Order of Appearance) 

Narrator - Bradley Gareth  Faustina Fetamine - Addison Peacock  Bellamy Pink - Zuwie LeFou  Mara Nacht - Tiana Camacho  Dr. Yuzna- Jonny Sims  Anna Konda - Moe Rock  Vic Cadmium - Charlie Green  Molly Malarkey - Misha Bakshi  Roger Tallarico - Josh Rubino  Lex The Talon - Kelly Nugent  Mr. Dirge - Austin Lee Matthews 

[deardiarywrites]

⋆˙⟡ — get up girl ! how to get out of a rut

ᶻ 𝘇 𐰁 ˆ𐃷ˆ

have you been feeling pretty sluggish lately? life seems to be moving so fast, that you can't even keep up? you want to do things but just seem to not have the energy to do so? do you feel like you are stuck in a loop? the same days play out over and over, wake up, school, come home, crash in bed, scroll for hours, and then feel guilty for being so unproductive while your pile of work keeps increasing. sometimes it feels like life is just not playing out in the way you want anymore. it feels like you have lost control. you're spiralling, falling face first. everything feels so hopeless but then- you, yes you, decide to get your life together. for how long are you going to live like this? and that is how the metamorphosis started. 𖦹ࡇ𖦹 step one : accepting where you are right now yes, you heard that right. pause for a second. take a deep breath. look around you. the state of your bed. your books. your skincare products. your yoga mat. your screentime. your to-do list. tune into your body and just accept your current lifestyle. ⋆ if this makes you feel sad, don't worry you can change! ⋆ if you feel motivated to get better, great! this is how you can save a wasted day : 𝜗𝜚 take a nice long shower, wash your hair, do your skincare and a facemask. put on your fav cute outfit, state one thing you love about yourself and compliment yourself on it. then if you feel like you want to, complete one task from your to-do list. or if you feel like you aren't ready yet, complete atleast 1% of something. choose your outfit for tmrw. or read one page of a book. meditate for 5 minutes. switch off your phone for 15 minutes. just do anything which makes you feel alive. and then rest. the sun will rise again.

(˶ˆᗜˆ˵) step two : coming up with a game plan now that you are aware of your current lifestyle, make a list of all the things that you do/experience which drains your energy and those things which make you feel happy. for eg - energery drainers : doomscrolling, comparing myself to others energy replenishers : going for a walk, dancing to fav music now after you have created that list, choose one habit from each category. it is advisable to start slow as it prevents burnout + making yourself feel overwhelmed. starting with easy habits will help you trust yourself more and thus will make this journey a lot more fun. remember you don't need to get better overnight. this is a journey! now an example of a gameplan for your first week could be like this : habit : doomscrolling (habit to quit) replace with : dancing to fav music wake up 30 mins earlier and go to bed 30 mins earlier (habit to cultivate) slowly you can add more and more habits that you wish to nurture and delete those nasty habits which deplete your energy !!!! okay so now that you have a gameplan, how do you stay motivated? ✩࿐࿔ step three : how to make life feel more vibrant by romanticizing everything romanticizing life is one way to totally switch up the narrative as it helps you feel like the main character. id really suggest to have atleast some sort of platform where you can store your progress. you could take cute pictures and add cute songs and post them on instagram or blog abt it on tumblr. or if you are a shy person, you could create a private acc with 0 followers and track your progress there. every problem has a solution babygirl! so don't give in to your excuses. you could also make a new playlist and listen to songs which make you feel like your highest self. listen to it when you feel down. tap into your creative side. create things and share it with the world. you will feel 10x times better i promise. ‧₊ ᵎᵎ 🍀 ໒꒱ step four : believe in yourself sometimes.. life is just difficult. and you have no energy to do anything. so let yourself be. rest. crash out. cry. but promise me that you will always get back on your feet, no matter what. its okay to pause and step back. you can always start again. life can always change for you. but its up to you. nothing changes if nothing changes. so, what now?

[disregardcanon]

i watched a really interesting tiktok where liv hewson talks about their interpretation for why van swings so HARD on her wilderness devotion the second that there's a chance of getting home

and that idea that van had been constructing her own narrative for how to keep going and then swerving hard the second that it's majorly challenged makes complete sense for her character for me. like. not everyone is someone who digs themselves deeply into their beliefs and stays there stubbornly. van was one of the first to go Yeah That Wilderness Stuff Seems Reasonable Since This Is Our Reality Now. so of course this challenge makes her change her tune. she doesn't WANT this to be her reality. she can see a way of them reintegrating into society and dealing with what they did AND keeping her girlfriend. she was clearly planning to come out eventually and thought that things could just... stay when they get back home. vs taissa, who knows herself well enough to know that if she goes back she WILL go back into the closet and bury all of this deep down.

i DO wonder how they both would have handed it if the "rescue" was completely unexpected and they didn't have something like Clear Evidence that The Trees Screaming Was Frogs Fucking to help acclimate back to... the world.

[daeniradraconis]

Right Where You Left Me - Hannah Elise Hughes x William Nylander

✨ Hello lovelies,

I have a little secret to share. For a while now, I’ve been working on a story — an idea that got stuck in my brain and just wouldn’t let go. It’s almost finished now! (It’ll probably be around 5–7 chapters.) Starting next Sunday, I’ll be posting one chapter every weekend, always on Sundays.

But before that, I wanted to give you a little teaser. 🖤 Title: Right Where You Left Me Main Characters: Hannah Elise Hughes x William Nylander, the Hughes family, Toronto Maple Leafs players/wags

About the story: I went to sleep with his ring on my finger. I woke up five years later to find it on someone else's hand. They told him I wouldn't survive. They told him to move on. Even my own brothers said it was time. But I’m still here. And so is the love we tried to bury. Some things don’t fade with time. Some promises are harder to break. And some hearts never stop waiting — even when they shouldn’t.

As you can probably tell, it’s going to be angsty and emotional — but I hope you’ll love it. 🥺🖤

Stay tuned for Chapter 1!

[rivendellwatch]

[EVENTS UPDATES ROUND-UP!!!]

🌟✨ HELLOOO MY LOVES!! ✨🌟

Time for a little Rivendell Council Update™ 🧸💌 because I have SO much to share with you about our upcoming events!!

First of all — thank you again for all the love, ideas, support, and chaotic good energy you’ve been sending my way 🥹💖 I’m seriously so touched!!!!

Starting tomorrow (Monday, April 28th!), I’ll start posting some little propositions for Cozy Cuddles Week! Like prompts propositions, cards, cute bonus ideas, all the soft vibes! So if you’re excited, stay tuned! 🫶✨

Cozy Cuddles Week will officially run from May 12th to May 18th (both dates included)!

It’s going to be all about the warm, soft, snuggly vibes — family, friends, lovers, found family — anyone you want to cuddle in your heart and your writing/art! 🛋️☕🐾

And yes, thanks to the sweet feedback from the comments: it’s going to be TROP and wider LOTR-verse! Movies, books, Hobbit, Silmarillion stans etc — come on in!!

Maybe I'll also post polls to see and check if you peeps would like some characters/pairings wheels like I have prepared for Spice Week as well!!

After lots of DMs, comments, and sweet nudges, we officially have the dates for Spicy Week! 🍒🖤

Mark your calendars: June 16th - June 26th! (Both dates included!)

TEN DAYS OF SPICE!!!

No poll this time because it was pretty clear from all your messages/feedback that this was a favorite — and honestly, it feels like the perfect cozy breathing space after Cozy Cuddles Week 🧸💌 (we gotta recharge our batteries before setting everything on fire, right? 😂).

And a little heads-up for Spicy Week planning & guidelines: I’m currently chatting with people, reaching out, and finalizing the guidelines so everything will be clear and comfy for everyone! 🤝✨ The major points (like no SA, no non-con, no abuse, no violence, etc) have already been laid out, but I’m just making sure every little detail is sorted so we can have the smoothest, safest event possible!!

Also, for the event itself, there will be two collections! 📚 → One anonymous collection (for those who prefer a little privacy or aren't comfy posting under their name!) → And one public collection with visible pseuds for anyone who wants to share openly!

We’re building this with love, kindness, and a LOT of excitement!! Thank you for trusting me with this 💖

_ Bucky, the Mod

[ratsoupee]

If you can't tell what this is due to tumblr compression, this is a roadmap of the seven souls traveling through the underground in my Grouptale/Seventale AU. I shall now take a dog nap because my brain completely shorted doing this.

Some notes:

In a theoratical Seventale game run, the player has a choice to diverge between different groups at certain points of the game where the group gets split up (Seen by the points marked X following Frisk's path). So each run has different scenarios, dialogues and encounters depending on where you choose to go (also making players tempted to restart the game when they get their ending)

Dalv in this au, is just chilling in the ruins. The Integrity soul hits him by accident from getting spooked. You can encounter him again post battle in Waterfall watching the snail race.

When Papyrus springs his bridge trap, the group accidentally falls over and ends up in lower Snowdin, where they play out the Martlet encounter. Martlet ends up helping you back to Snowdin town.

Ceroba in this au doesn't fight with you. She has long given up on finding a cure, but is heavy with grief. Your run with her in Steamworks is mainly you uncovering her backstory, and if you go back to the Dunes after, you can go on a sidequest to help Ceroba heal.

El Bailador is an optional battle wherein you dance to reignite his passion, as Mettaton's fame overthrew his dance stage. After his battle, you can find him again in the Wild East where he's organized a small dance club.

After fighting Asgore and Flowey, the story essentially runs the same, except you also go on additional quests with Martlet, Ceroba and Starlo.

If you have trouble reading the map, here is the individual paths below

[risestarkiss]

"This Whole Situation"

Rise Ramblings #1

So as you guys know, one occurring phrase in the show between the boys and April is “This whole situation.” Although vague, and used in many other contexts, sometimes the family uses the phrase to refer to their mutations.  

However, once finishing the series it’s hard to miss that Donnie never says the phrase. Now, I could be wrong (and If I am, just comment and let me know!) but I have a theory as to why Donnie doesn’t say it… Donnie never says “this whole situation” because in his mind, there IS no situation.

The Evidence:

I started noticing something interesting about Donnie’s state of mind about himself.

He never really expresses that he’s different from other people, he’s just…him. Obviously, he knows that he’s a mutant, but it’s not something at the front of his mind. I associate it to if someone has a certain attribute, that person is just that, a person first. I believe it’s the same for Donnie. He’s a person, that just so happens to be a mutant turtle, and I live for it.

What made me solidify my theory was the use of disguises in Rise, specifically the use of disguises in April’s school.

All of the boys have visited April’s school, and all of them decided to wear disguises, except Donnie.

He just shows up in his regular clothing. One could argue that the hoodie is his disguise, but then why did the rest of the boys wear actual (silly) disguises while our boy Donnie is just like, “Hoodie? Check.” And not only that, but for the whole episode, all eyes are on him, and he just. Doesn’t. Care. It’s glorious!

Later, in the episode Donnie vs. Witch Town, we see that Donnie showing up all willy-nilly pell-mell at April’s school was not a one-time thing. It’s literally been happening for years!

Therefore, I believe that canonically Donnie doesn’t care about “this whole situation.” And if someone does, as far as he’s concerned that’s their problem, not his.

○○○○

Part Two: On His Own Terms

[fbfh]

makey makeover - rodrick x hyperfeminine reader

wc: 1.5k

pairing: rodrick x gn hyperfeminine!reader

warnings: rodrick isn't used to being taken care of but only briefly mentioned at the end, rodrick does not know what hyaluronic acid is

summary: rodrick can never say no to you, but if it means having you straddle his lap while you use all your skincare products on him and listen to music together, he wouldn't want to say no anyway.

song recs: makey makeover - crazy ex girlfriend cast, jesus of suburbia - green day, perfect day - hoku

a/n: I started writing a kids book yesterday?? like I finished the first chapter and outline in one sitting???? it wasn't at all planned but when the muse strikes yk. Anyway I don't think it will take me as long to write so if you wanna read a chapter book about magic and girlhood and unicorns and other mythical creatures with bella sara vibes that's probs gonna be ready reasonably soon lol

tags: @yesv01 @magcon7280 @dustyinkpages @the-snake-pit @kiara7777 @inthehoneymoonwithconnorrk800 @followingthefanfiction @2220825 @Maggzsworld @xiaos_crustytoenails @ionlymadethisaccountbcihadto @strawberryjen124 @Isaentremundos @hxnbah

Rodrick likes to think he's a pretty tough guy. Between being born and raised on the rebellious messages of pop punk music, and the nonconforming ideologies of emo and other alt subcultures, Rodrick knows in his bones that he'll never let the man break his spirit. He'll never bow down to someone just because they want him to do something. He's had countless opportunities to stand by these beliefs at school and at home, and he has never - not once - come close to doing anything for someone simply because they want him to. Rodrick has been confident in his ability to never give into other people’s orders, no matter how much they demand of him. 

Until now.

“Pretty please, Roddy…?” You pout your glossy lips at him, blinking up at him and batting your doll like eyelashes, and that’s all it takes to make him fold.

“...I guess, if you really-” He’s cut off by an excited squeal from you, and he’s glad that you’re too distracted to notice him blush. Rodrick has never felt his willpower give in so fast, but as he watches you rush around your room and smile, delighted that he’d agreed, he realizes that he’d do pretty much anything you tell him too. Ben and Chris would call him a pussywhipped simp, but… no, that’s pretty much it. He chuckles a little at the thought, watching the pile of stuff grow. He recognizes nail polish and tweezers, but that’s about it.

“Thank you thank you thank you!” You say, rambling happily as you settle down on your bed across from him. “I’ve been wanting to do self care stuff but I’ve done so many everything showers and self care nights there’s nothing left for me to do on myself. But you…”

You take his face in your manicured hands, moving him around to inspect more closely.

“You are in serious need of a facial.”

Rodrick doesn’t really process what you’re saying, he just loves when you touch his face like that. 

“...Uh, yeah totally.” He mutters absentmindedly, distracted by your sweet smell. After a moment, he processes what you said, and chuckles, leaning back into your silky pink pillows. “Babe, you can do anything to me, anywhere, anytime.” 

You giggle, feeling your face flush a little as you get all your stuff organized. Rodrick runs his hands up and down your waist, fidgeting with your soft fluffy pajama shorts and big loded diper shirt you wear all the time. He sees the little burn marks and worn out hems and realizes it’s the one you stole from him. He smiles softly, loving the way you look in it even more now. His attention is pulled back to you when you push something over his face, brushing his hair back. You adjust the fluffy cat ears on the headband, making sure you have access to his whole face. Rodrick giggles a little, knowing he must look a little out of place wearing a pierce the veil shirt and fluffy kitty cat headband. 

“I don’t think my forehead has been this exposed since like, 4th grade…” he chuckles.

“That’s good, you’ll have less sun damage that way.” You smile, putting some micellar water on a cotton pad. It’s a little cold to the touch, but after a moment, the feeling of you gently wiping over his face and neck ends up being way more relaxing than he had expected it to. You throw it away, and he hears it land in your trash can with a crinkle. 

“I’m gonna mist your face now, okay?” You say, and he nods. You spray rose water on his face, and Rodrick can’t get over how considerate you are to give him a heads up like that. Rodrick smiles a little as he adjusts to the subtle floral smelling facial spray he’s used to smelling on you. He basks in the quietness of your room, opening his eyes as he watches you sitting on his stomach and looking for the next product. You hesitate for a moment. You feel like something’s missing, but you can’t put your finger on it.

“Oh,” you say, reaching for your phone as you remember. You open up Spotify, and put your favorite playlist on shuffle - the one you and Roddy share. It’s full of both your favorite songs, mostly boiling down to early 2000’s pop punk and trashy pop. It’s chaotic but really does suit you both perfectly.  Rodrick smiles suddenly as he instantly recognizes the opening notes of Jesus of Suburbia begin to play. You take out your favorite serum, jasmine and blackberry hydrating jelly, and place a few drops around his face. 

“What’s that one?” Rodrick asks, picking up another bottle. 

“Hyaluronic acid.”

Rodrick looks at the little dropper bottle.

“Does it, like, melt the flesh right off your bones?” 

“No…?” You chuckle, massaging his cheekbones and jawline with your fingertips.

“Then why is it called hydroponic acid?” He asks rhetorically, “Acid is supposed to melt shit.”

You laugh again, and he makes a mental note to sample your laughter for a song at some point in the future. He doesn’t know which one yet, but he knows it will be his best one yet. 

You rub some cooling aloe vera gel into his skin, then take out your rose quartz gua sha stone. You tap your fingertips against his chest, and he looks at you with an amused smile.

“What does that do?”

He watches you work, eyes locked on you. He can’t remember the last time he felt this relaxed and peaceful. 

“I’m prepping your lymphatic drainage system.” 

That clarified absolutely nothing for Rodrick, but he trusts you implicitly. You’re so good at so many things, but Christ, you could write a book on all that girly beauty stuff. It’s way more hardcore than people think it is. You know about all these acids and drainage systems and the pink rock thing, and even though he’s impressed, he’s not at all surprised by how good you are at all this stuff.

You begin gently gliding your gua sha over Roddy’s skin, working from his forehead down to his neck and jawline. He stops talking as you work, and it’s like you melt all of the stress out of his body through his face. He could fall asleep with you touching him so gently like this. After a while you rub some more cream into his face, then place something under his eyes that feels like thinly sliced jello.

“What the fuck?” He asks, bringing another laugh out of you. He watches you take two more of the weird jelly things and put them under your own eyes.

“They’re under eye masks.” You answer with a chuckle. “They hydrate your skin, depuff, and get rid of dark circles.”

“Huh…” he hums in response, playing with the patches as they sit on his face. 

Once you’ve used half your arsenal of skincare products on him, you peel off his sheet mask and let him sit up. You hand him a mirror, and as he sits up and stretches a little, kind of wishing you had more to do, he feels like he just woke up from the best sleep of his life. 

“So? What do you think?” You ask excitedly. He can’t help but crack a smile at how cute you are. Rodrick takes the mirror you offer him. When he sees his reflection, he almost doesn’t recognize himself. 

“Oh my god…” he says with a soft smile. He’s glowing. He doesn’t think he’s ever looked this soft and moisturized and… cared for before. He doesn’t even have any crusty eyeliner from yesterday smudged around his eyes. He can never get it off all the way, but one wave of your magic wand, and it’s gone. He laughs again, touching his cheek. He looks up at you in surprise.

“My face is so smooth…” “I know!” You exclaim in delight. “So, do you like facials after all?”

You have a feeling you already know the answer, but Rodrick looks up at you anyway.

“Yeah,” he states, pulling you in for a kiss, his lips soft and exfoliated, topped with your favorite strawberry lip balm. You think Rodrick is right, it does taste better in a kiss. After he pulls away, it takes him a minute for his brain to stop short circuiting. 

“So… uh, are we doing this again next weekend?” 

You laugh at his hopeful tone of voice, how he raises his eyebrows a little. 

“Yeah.” You nod, taking him in for another kiss. You take his hands in yours, looking at the stick and poke tattoo he got of the heart you drew on his hand in chemistry class, his little calluses from drumming. “Next week I can do something about your cuticles.”

[geminitayyt]

Hey, I heard from someone that you don't like being depicted as a deer. Is that true, or do they just have misinformation?

Sorry for asking if it makes you uncomfortable. I just wanna know cause I have, like, no context😅

I think people get that from misunderstanding a tweet I put out a while ago. I dont hate being portrayed as a deer. Although, it wasnt something i expected. Pre-hermitcraft gem was almost never drawn as a deer, the antlers were meant to be part of a decorative flower crown, not actually growing out of my skull. So it isn't a depiction that I intended or imagined for myself. When I picture my character she's more of a silly nature elf woman. Because of that, I do sometimes wish I could separate from the deer a bit. I tweeted a while ago that I didn't want to *always* be a deer. So for the skins I have that don't have antlers, I usually prefer those to be humans or some other more fitting animal. Wizard Gem from Empires is a good example, I really didnt picture her as being a deer, it didnt fit with the character for me. But season 8 hermit gem can totally be a deer. That doesnt mean if you portrayed wizard Gem as a deer I was uncomfy, it just didnt align with how I imagined the character, which is fine. For season 10 of hermitcraft I plan to ask the audience not to make me a deer. I've had season 8 & 9 gem both be deer now, and I just prefer for my character to be able to change outfits and forms. I think always being portrayed as a deer is putting me in a cottagecore sized box that I never really asked to be trapped in. Season 10 gem won't make sense as a deer anyway, just cause of the theme i'm going with, but to help the fan artists I am commissioning an artist to portray my character close to how I imagine her, with a few animals I think could work in place of the deer.

also if you just haveeee to draw S10 gem as a deer, I still wont be mad, its not that serious I appreciate all the art.