#Especially when I don't even have my own space to retreat to when I get frustrated being ignored for the 15th time in a row!!

[blue-banditt]

Ok I don't think it's unreasonable to refuse to visit my parents if they're not going to hang out with me,, right?? RIGHT?? Like I shouldn't be expected to drive 2 hours there and back to sit around their house and beg like a damn puppy for crumbs of their attention like I did when I was a kid, especially when I have a whole ass apartment and cat and schoolwork to take care of at home.

"am I going to see you this weekend?"

"I wasn't planning on it. I can fit it in if I'm not just going to be sitting around your house all day though"

"I'm not going to entertain you!! 😝"

Ok well, I'm a guest now since you turned my old bedroom into your hoarding closet I mean sewing den mb,,. idk sounds like bad host manners to me. 🤷

[woso-dreamzzz]

Daisychains II

Marta Torrejón x Caroline Graham Hansen x Child!Reader

Summary: It's gardening day

Caro had never really noticed the amount of plants at Marta's house. Well, she knew there were a lot but she had never really noticed just how many there were until she started visiting more regularly.

Usually, Marta would come to hers for dates but with you warming up to her, Caro came to Marta's every week.

She shifts the bouquet to her other hand as she rings the doorbell. There's a shuffle inside for a moment before she notices you peeking out through the curtains and disappearing again.

Marta opens the door and you peer out from behind her legs.

"Hi, Caro," You say, your voice soft and gentle.

You're wearing a pair of overalls and your welly boots. You seem quite overdressed for what is a very hot day in Barcelona but Caro doesn't question it as she hands you the flowers she picked out especially for you.

She brings you flowers every time she visits now and you're always happy to receive them. You do a very impressive job of keeping them all alive for weeks at a time and, honestly, Caro's a bit in awe of how you do it.

"She was very excited to see you today," Marta says as she watches you put the flowers in a vase you'd already prepared.

"Really?"

"Of course, I think you're her favourite person now."

The tips of Caro's ears turn pink as she bashfully looks down. She feels shy all of a sudden. The feeling only deepens as she feels a small hand take hers and looks to the side to see you smiling at her.

You look a little shy too, your hand dwarfed in Caro's.

"Mami," You say to Marta," Can I show Caro my garden?"

Marta laughs, pushing some strands of hair out of your face. "Well, it is gardening day, isn't it? Why don't you show Caro all your plants and I'll fill up your watering can?"

"My frog one?"

"Yes, your frog one."

"Okay." You tug lightly on Caro's hand and guide her out of the back door.

Caro's never been in the garden before but she's not surprised that it's very clearly yours. You've got plant boxes against the fences and a little swing she knows is the same one that Marta sat in to announce your arrival on social media.

It's got little cushions and looks meticulously cared for even though you're now six and it's been there for at least a few years before you were born.

You've got flowers against one of the fences and you pull Caro over to them.

"These are my flowers," You say.

The long box is separated into smaller boxes, each with their own flower in them.

"These are my roses," You say," And these are my tulips. This one's for my orchards. They're still little though so they're still growing."

"They look very nice."

"Mami is helping me," You say, pulling her across the garden to your other plant box," This is for my vegetables. We're growing broccoli and peas because they're healthy!"

It's the most talkative Caro's ever seen you.

You show her every inch of the garden and Caro doesn't even care that the sun is horrifically hot and she could quite possibly get sunburn.

Marta comes out soon after with a frog watering can and helps you water all your plants.

"It's gardening day," Marta explains as she and Caro retreat to the garden swing while you pad around with much smaller plant pots," Every Saturday when we don't have a match."

"She's good," Caro says.

"My parents got her a gardening set when she was three. She's been hooked for years now. All of her books are about plants. She doesn't like storybooks anymore. Just ones about gardening."

Caro sips on her lemonade as she watches you pour soil into an empty pot, watering it liberally before scattering a few seeds in and covering them. You set the pot on the garden table, right in the sun before hurrying off to grab a different pot.

"Clearly they've paid off. I think you might run out of space soon."

Marta groans jokingly. "She asked me for allotment space for her next birthday. What six year old knows that word? Allotment."

Caro joins in with her laughter, setting her drink down as Marta calls for you.

"Conejita! Come have a snack please!"

You huff a little bit, patting the petals of the flower you were pruning before hurrying over.

Marta had brought out carrot sticks earlier and you easily wiggle your way between her and Caro to eat them.

"Conejita grew these all by herself," Marta says as you munch," Didn't you?"

"Mami helped," You say to Caro, nodding earnestly," Do you like them?"

Honestly, Caro doesn't really like carrots at all but she still takes the one you offer her. She nods. "I really like them."

You beam.

"It was mine and Mami's special project," You explain," We had a lot of fun!"

Marta laughs, pulling you into her lap and sticking a floppy straw hat on your head to protect you from the sun. She bounces her knee a few times and you giggle.

"We did have a lot of fun, Conejita. I love growing things with my girl."

"I love growing things with you too, Mami!" You lean into her as you eat your carrot snacks. You suddenly have a thought and sit upright again. "Can I have a special project with you too, Caro?"

"I..." Caro's ears turn red again. "I'd like that."

"Mami, did you hear? I can grow something with Caro!"

"I did hear. It'll have to be next week though so you can have time to decide what you want to grow."

You wiggle around until Marta sets you on your feet and you grab Caro's hand, pulling her inside.

"We can grow flowers!" You decide," I have a book so we can choose! Come on, come on, Caro!"

Caro allowed herself to be led back inside and sat down on the sofa. There are flowers from last week set out on the coffee table and you drag over a big flower encyclopaedia from the shelf.

It looks very heavy but you stubbornly refuse to let Marta help you carry it. She smiles fondly at you as you place it in Caro's lap and begin to look through the pages.

"Conejita," She says as you and Caro debate what flower you're going to grow together," Should I put these away?" She's holding last week's flowers and you quickly shake your head.

"No! Wait, please, Mami!" You take them from her and glance at Caro. "I know they're not daisies," You say," But can you teach me how to make a flower crown with these too?"

You're very lucky because most of Caro's free time has now been taken up learning how to braid flowers together for exactly this moment.

She places the book to the side and hefts you up onto her lap.

"I'd love to."

[fraugwinska]

Hello beautiful! Not only I just discovered your writing and binds read your entire master list … could I request a part 2 from the eye of the storm?

Maybe something like where the reader is worried about Alastor at night and she goes to comfort him. He asks her to tell him a story while she lays beside him but as he falls asleep he ends cuddling? Tysm and please take all the time you need💕💕💕

Your wishes are my command - I strayed a little from your idea, but I hope you'll like it nonetheless! It's angst and fluff, and a little sweet at the end! And of course, it leaves room for a possible (Spicy) Part 3? ;> Who knows?

This is the second part of a Mini-Series. Part 1: The Eye of the Storm is right over here.

Two weeks had passed since the night Alastor's nightmare almost tore the hotel apart. Your wounds, caused by the sharp claws of the demonic form of Alastor, had healed pretty well and were barely noticeable anymore, thanks to dutiful tending of Charlie and Niffty, except for the scar on your hip, still pink and sore. You didn't mind, though. It was a physical memento of a sacrifice made for someone you deeply cared about.

In fact, you had a hard time forgetting that night, because every time you looked at the scar, the image of the Radio Demon, hunched and sobbing on his bed, flashed through your head, and you felt your heart clench. He hadn't spoken much to you since then. He hadn't spoken much to anyone in the hotel, really. You tried to approach him, but he always seemed to find an excuse to get out of a conversation, or leave the room you entered. When you asked him if he was alright, he laughed it off and waved his hand, telling you it was not worth worrying about. You knew him enough by now to know it wasn't true. You also knew him enough to know that if you tried to push him, he'd retreat further.

So, you just observed him from a distance, the way his smile looked tired when he thought no one was looking, the way his laugh seemed hollow, his eyes dim and exhausted. Sometimes you'd catch him blankly staring at the wall or ceiling or a painting on the wall for minutes, before snapping back and continuing whatever task he was supposed to do.

"I'm worried about him, too."

Charlie was sitting beside you on the lounge set in the foyer, both of you nursing a cup of hot cocoa, while Alastor was preparing dinner in the kitchen, humming some melancholic tune that traveled through the closed door. "But I don't know how to help him. He doesn't seem like he's interested in opening up to me or the others, or talk about what happened. It's as if he's just... shut off."

You sighed, sipping from the drink. "Yeah. He's been getting slimmer too, and always looks so... tired."

Charlie nodded, and you exchanged a glance. "Is there any chance that... maybe he would open up to you? You seemed to have a connection to him more than we were ever able to have with him. Maybe it's just wishful thinking, but I can't help but think he'd feel more comfortable around you."

"I tried, Charlie - he just... vanishes, before I can even finish a sentence... he avoids me. It's like he's running from me."

Charlie looked into the bottom of her mug, turning the now empty dish in her hands. "...Well, in times like this, we don't want the help. Especially if our pride is involved." she smiled warmly at you, her usual determination now back in her eyes. "But I know someone who would stop at nothing to help him."

Your footsteps sounded much louder in the silence of the night as you climbed the stairs up to Alastors suite. You glanced at the lights, remembering the green sheen and how the swirling shadows in the dimness had made your skin crawl. But the staircase was dipped in the usual golden light, nothing amiss, nothing scary. There was only a faint sound, almost like a static, hanging in the air. Alastors own wards and spell protecting his space, you were sure. Which left the possibility of him already knowing you were on your way. For a moment you hesitated - was it of use to go to him when he'd possibly already fled to evade you? A few nights ago you might've retreated. But after two weeks of watching your friend suffer, your determination prevailed, and you knocked, firmly and resolutely.

A second of silence. Then another one. You raised your hand to knock again when the door swung open - And Alastor stood before you, his grin in place, yet there was a sense of exhaustion seeping through his mask. He seemed taken off guard, obviously he wasn't expecting someone to come visit him late at night, so your prediction had been proven wrong. It was very rare to see the radio demon in anything else than his usual attire. But he was standing before you now, in a scandalously casual ensemble: A crimson robe over an open collared black pajama shirt showing some of his usually hidden, taupe fur, the silk tie loosely knotted at the waist, black matching trousers and without shoes.

"It's mighty late for a visit, dear." His voice held a sharpness and rough edge. But the tired, dull expression behind the grin was already crumbling when he gazed into your face.

"I wanted to see you. I'd noticed you weren't... doing so good after what happened."

He cast his glance everywhere but to you, avoiding your concerned stare. "I've told you before, your concern is absolutely unnecessary dear, I'm fi-" "Alastor, please." you interrupted, gently taking his wrist into your palm to halt his hand from waving his way out of the conversation. You looked at him, and he tried not to look at you, but slowly, oh so slowly, his gaze slipped back to your face, and his composure visibly started to crumble, his grip on his tactical expression slipping like sand through fingers. "I'm not here to judge you. Or to berate you. I'm worried."

He chuckled bitterly, closing the distance between you as his whole stance now seemed to curl. "Worrying is not necess-" "Probably." you shrugged, your hand sliding from his wrist to his cold fingers. "But friends worry, when they see the person they care about suffer." "Friends are a bother." his eyes flickered. "That's true. And yet they care."

He let his head bow forward, and suddenly he reminded you so much of that dark, trembling creature you found on his bed two weeks ago. You never thought the powerful Radio Demon would allow himself to appear like this in front of someone consciously. But maybe you weren't just someone... to him. The thought made your pulse flutter.

"I find myself unable..." Alastor started, his eyes staring at your intertwined hands. "...to find rest these days. I don't feel the need to sleep as frequently as your fellow residents, but... the incident, the dream, what happened - it seems it has rattled me more than I care to admit. What you did for me and what I did to you in return..." He chuckled, but it sounded much weaker, lacking his usually cheerful mockery as his free hand hovered over the side of your waist where the fresh scar sat under your clothes. "The thought of it being repeated feels unbearable."

"That's why I'm here." You squeezed his hand. "I've seen you at your worst and still came back, because I wanted to tell you that I'm neither weary nor scared. And that you don't have to bear this burden alone, Alastor. Please... let me help you."

The Radio Demon stood still, and for a moment you thought he'd retreat again, but then his shoulders relaxed, and the grin melted into a small, tired smile. His hand tightened on yours and he sighed. "Well then, come inside."

As you stepped into the familiar room, you noticed the difference immediately. The curtains were drawn, the lamps were on and the record player was playing quietly, a melancholic jazz piece filling the silence. Alastor had done his best to keep the memory of that night away by repairing the walls and furniture and replacing the shredded bedding and mattress of his bed with brand new ones. So new in fact, they looked like they were never touched.

"Please, take a seat." he gestured to one of the two wing chairs by his fireplace, now burning in warm oranges and scarlets rather than the eerie green you remembered, and as you settled down he joined you in the other opposite to you. The silence hung between you for a moment, neither of you really knowing what to say next. He was intently watching the flames dancing on the scorched wood, and you studied his profile, the soft, dark fur of his ears, his thin, elegant nose and the deep crease between his eyebrows. You had never seen him lower his guard this much. Well, that wasn't quite true - once, in this very room, although under much different circumstances. You could see his hand, resting on the arm of the chair, twitch as if it were fighting an impulse.

"It's funny, isn't it?" he started, his voice a bit too light. "I'm a powerful entity in hell, able to rip and tear and destroy. A feared, powerful, dangerous overlord. And yet I seem to be rendered helpless by my own mind. Laughable, really."

"I'm not laughing." you said quietly, and his head turned towards you, a raised eyebrow and a hint of amusement in his expression.

"Indeed you are not."

"And I think you are far from helpless." You continued, a small smile appearing on your face as you watched a little flame wind itself from a knothole, gaining volume and fizzing strongly. "I've never met a demon as strong-willed and determined as you, Alastor. I think the reason it has been affecting you so badly, is because you have power over everything else. But when it comes to the things happening inside your own head - when you are asleep - you aren't in control, and that can be terrifying."

His gaze was fixed on your face, the crimson of his irises shimmering and flickering. He looked... intrigued. And, something else. Something softer, that made your heartbeat a little faster.

"You are... a fascinating thing." he hummed, and his fingers started to drum on the armrest, his other hand fidgeting, still fighting that strange, hidden urge. "You seem to... calm me. With your mere presence, it feels... soothing. The thoughts of that night don't vanish, but they lose their grip. Like the tempest in me is being tamed." "Is that a bad thing?" you asked, a bit puzzled, and a bit amused.

"Yes and No." He answered, quickly and without hesitation. "I don't depend on others. It's unreliable. Too many factors are involved, and when you care about someone, it means you leave them with the ability to hurt you." His hand was tapping faster. "That sounds like a lonely existence." "Loneliness is the most reliable thing of them all. But..." he sighs and follows your gaze back to his fireplace. The small flame grew into a strong blaze, swishing and crackling loudly now. "...It is also the most draining. And I have to admit that I'm thoroughly exhausted, dearest."

"I'll stay with you tonight." You whispered, leaning forward and reaching out to take his restless hand. The motion surprised him, his eyes snapping back to you. "If you want to." He stared at your hand on his, the fire reflecting on his ruby eyes, and slowly, the twitching and drumming subsided, and his fingers curled around yours, a small squeeze.

"I believe I'd be glad for the company." he uttered.

For the next half an hour or so, you sat with Alastor in comfortable silence, both of your eyes on the flames and hands still intertwined as the jazz faded into blues, slow, melancholic and calm until the fire died down. Sometimes, his thumb drew little circles on the side of your hand, and you took it as an encouragement. His face was back to its tired state, though he didn't seem quite as guarded and withdrawn anymore. When there was nothing more than faintly glowing logs in the ember bed, you shifted your weight and gave his hand a careful tug. "Do you think it's time?"

He swallowed audibly and his eyes closed. "I suppose so." he smiled tightly, rising and pulling you up with him, and you both walked over to his gigantic bed, draped with fresh crimson sheets and matching duvets, untouched, spotless, pristine. He stopped before the side of the bed and for a few moments - he stared down, his grip on your hand almost painfully tight now. You tilted your head, giving him a reassuring smile.

"If you're uncomfortable about sharing the bed I can pull over one of the chairs, I don't mind..."

"Absolutely not." he turned his head, and you could see how flustered his expression was now. "Ah - I mean... no, dear, that's alright."

You left his side and rounded the bed, lifting the duvet without looking at him as you shuffled out of your slippers. If you were honest, you felt just as awkward as Alastor looked, not to mention nervous and anxious and a lot of other complicated things. But you'd be damned to show that now, and risk him retreating. So you settled in, slipping your legs under the heavy covers. They felt just as comfortable as they looked.

You noticed him hesitating on his side of the bed, unmoving, his hands halted at the knot of his robe. You adamantly looked away from him, overly interested in the obscure knick-knacks that were scattered in the cupboards on the opposite wall - it was clear he was struggling to shed his clothes in front of you, even if it was only an overcoat. You heard an airy, quiet chuckle and fabric rustling, felt the duvet lifting again and then a weight dipped the mattress next to you. You could feel Alastor shifting and settling, could hear the shallow, anxious breaths and were aware that his eyes were burning on the side of your head, and you realized that he, too, was doing a valiant job at keeping his composure. You leaned back into the pillows, then he snapped his fingers and there was silence. And darkness.

At the lack of light in your vision, your senses heightened and you took everything in much more intently. His body heat close, his breathing next to you, his faint scent of smoke and herbs surrounding you. How small the space between your bodies was, the last remaining inch a gaping ravine in your mind. The mattress dipped as his body turned, facing yours and now his eyes were right there, glimmering and deep red in the pitch black darkness, following your every movement as you shifted too. You felt your heart hammering loudly and you could almost hear the blood rushing through your body. And you knew Alastor could hear that. Hear your quickened breathing. Feel the warmth of you just as you felt his.

There was a tense, terrifying moment, stretched endlessly until your eyelids fluttered shut - you heard, as much as you felt, the bed dipping under his shifting body weight, and suddenly, the ravine was filled by him and he was all around you, pulling you in sort of a protective embrace as you were surrounded by his warmth. Your head fell against the base of his throat as he tucked your face into the crook of his neck, a shaky sigh leaving him as he wrapped his limbs around you. The sudden proximity caught you entirely off-guard - you knew Alastor had a deep aversion against close physical contact. The hand holding had been a huge success for you, a sign that his trust for you went beyond the ordinary. You had been fully prepared to honor a discreet distance between you and him as to not make him feel more uncomfortable, but to pull you so close like this, voluntarily at that, initiated by him, made you go rigid in nervousness at how to react to it. You could already feel him retreat, that awkwardness from before already flooding back between you as he felt your body stiffen.

"Aah... my apologies, dear, I didn't mean to get so..."

Your reaction was instant, almost instinctively, body already knowing what your mind still was figuring out. Your hands slid around his slender waist as you pulled yourself closer to him, since you believed actions spoke louder than words to soothe the conflict he was battling. One leg came to rest between his, you felt his hips brushing against yours, and your palm came to rest in between his shoulder blades and you buried your face into the warm fur of his throat, and all tension left him, as another, heavier, long-drawn sigh rumbled through him, and he curled his form back around your smaller frame.

"If I'll return to the dreams that caused such havoc..." he mumbled quietly, his tone unusually wavering. "Then I'll get you out again and help Niffty clean up the mess." "Silly girl, absolutely ridiculous." his breath tickled against your ear, but he sounded lighter already. More like his usual self.

His leg entangled between yours, the limb as muscular as his chest and shoulders had always hinted at. His hand was tracing shapes and unknown symbols onto your back, and you wondered if it was a form of spellcasting to keep you safe while sleeping. But whether it was, or just unconscious movements, the gesture alone was making your heart flutter. The fact that it was his very real, very physical, very touchable chest and hands that were pressed onto your barely clothed skin, providing the soft massaging, and the warm, comforting sensation of his body heat against your own - it was exhilarating and overwhelmingly, absurdly, beautifully intimate.

Friends.

You wondered if that word could describe you and the radio demon. There was something... so much more, at least in your head. So much deeper. He meant something different to you than the others, Vaggie, Charlie - something special. A deep emotional pull, an urge to always seek and - absurdly, knowing he was who he was - to protect, the need to understand. To care and to comfort and to feel his presence at your side. An inevitable, chaotic and maybe even borderline obsessive attraction you couldn't and didn't want to escape. It had already become evident to you, especially in these past two weeks, that you felt something deeper for the demon everyone in the hotel was so wary about. He was special to you, yes, an anchor in a world that could throw any horrible thing at you at any given time, a world that wasn't trustworthy nor consistent. But in a weird twist of fate, he was. To you, he was calmness, security, trust, consistency... happiness.

"...Alastor?" You murmured quietly into the darkness, feeling his cheek come to a rest on the side of your head.

"Yes?" he breathed back, voice laced with drowsiness. His hand kept its rhythmic circling motions on your back, and you realized there was a good chance for you both to drift into a blissfully undisturbed slumber like this, which would make waking up in each other's arms so much easier than the alternative.

"I... You're..." But as soon as you wanted to tell him, to say it out loud, words eluded you. Every sound, every combination of syllables suddenly seemed wrong, sounded stupid, like a horrendous mistake. Your heartbeat quickened and you felt a lump in your throat, your feeble courage battling with your cowardice as the idea of giving this whole idea up, putting those dangerous feelings aside and trying to suppress and pretend they never existed for the sake of preserving your one true friendship, fought back with everything it could muster.

It was such a terrifying leap. And wouldn't it be selfish? To burden him with your feelings, to most likely ruin the bond you had with him right now, which made both your lives better with a companionship so rare. Such an utterly idiotic, thoughtless move.

"Darling..."

You could feel a finger push your chin up and his lips were suddenly a hair's breadth from your own, his nose brushing yours and his warm breath ghosted over your skin. How easy would it be to close the gap now, fill that tiny remainder of space with your mouth and he would finally know what you were about to say. The mere thought made your stomach tingle and your breath tremble, you were aching for any form of confirmation that it would be okay, okay to have feelings for him. You'd accept anything he'd give you, even if it wasn't everything you yearned for - you'd take anything he was ready to offer.

"... isn't your principle that actions speak louder than words?"

A blink in the darkness. A gasp into the silence. And then he was finally closing the space between your faces.

Lips - soft and pliable, moving against yours. Tender, soft, firm pressure. A kiss that said everything words would never manage to convey. Your fingers clawed into the silky fabric of his shirt, your nose pressed against his jaw, tears brimming and stinging behind your eyes as you sighed deeply, relief crashing over you and bliss taking hold. It could've lasted for eternity and still would've ended too soon as he gently pulled away, leaving one more short, lingering touch to the corner of your lips.

"Now let's rest. We shall continue this discussion in the morning." he murmured tiredly as his hand resumed its massaging, this time brushing underneath the hem of your shirt as he settled back into his initial embrace. You laid in his arms for minutes with your heart still racing, but now you could hear and feel his too, drumming in his chest. Two rhythms, beating in wonderful, chaotic harmony.

"Sweet dreams." you managed to whisper, sleepily and content as his breathing flattened, his static quieted and his hands came to rest unmoving at the curve of your back.

And with a long, final sigh, the Radio Demon drifted into deep, calm, undisturbed sleep.

[kradogsrats]

@dragonprincedrabbles prompt Harrow + Damian, Breathe

—

A particularly nasty cold works its way through the castle, the first winter after they move in. Even Sarai gets the sniffles, though fortunately no more than that. Being sick and six months' pregnant would be truly miserable.

Callum stays healthy, thanks to diligent hand-washing and restriction from the areas of the castle where germs are most freely spread, but he grows moody and standoffish. He was already struggling to adjust, obviously feeling like an out-of-place guest in the castle and seeing Harrow as more like a distant uncle than a stepfather. Sarai knows he needs time—the only way encourage growing into a home and family is to allow the space to do so, and then step back. She just hates seeing her son unhappy.

Then Claudia, the one playmate he's truly grown close with, gets sick enough to spend a week in bed, and he starts acting out in ways he never has before. Not even when Damian was dying.

Harrow spends most of that week with Viren, who is understandably beside himself over his daughter's condition, mild though it is. Once she's undeniably on the mend and Harrow's able to escape, Sarai shares her own frustration and worries about her son. Always thoughtful, he suggests that they go to the lodge—there's a blanket of fresh snow on the ground, and a change of scene and activities will do Callum good.

It's a fantastic idea, one Sarai is embarrassed she didn't think of herself. Of course, she's not exactly used to having an entire lodge to retreat to for relaxation.

The first few days go better than she could ever hope—he and Harrow sled, build snowmen and snow banthers, and have snowball fights more epic than any Border skirmish. Sarai joins them sometimes, though she feels a little too pregnant for some of the more vigorous activities and is content to watch from inside, sipping hot cider. Callum runs to her pink-cheeked and laughing when they come back inside, happier every day than he has been in weeks. In the evenings, he falls asleep on the couch, nestled between them as Harrow reads aloud in his deep, soothing voice.

Then the castle cold catches up with Harrow.

Sarai suddenly finds herself caught between overseeing regular deliveries of hot soup and honeyed tea to her husband and near-constant tantrums from her son. Everything becomes a battle—getting up in the morning, what food he'll eat for any meal and when, putting on warm clothes before going outside, baths, bedtime. After a particularly bad fit over wanting to go ice skating—it's not cold enough for Sarai to trust the pond's ice without it being checked—she gathers him up into her lap for a talk.

"What's wrong, sweetie?" she says, rocking them both gently back and forth while he snuggles in her arms. "I can tell you're having a lot of big feelings—are you sad or mad that Harrow can't play anymore? Do you miss the castle?"

He shakes his head against her chest, but says nothing.

"Did something happen that scared you? Have you had bad dreams?"

Callum hesitates, then buries his face in her shirt, clinging to her. "I'm sorry, Mom," he says through fresh tears. "It's all my fault, I'm so sorry—"

She shushes him soothingly, stroking his hair. "I'm right here. It's okay to be overwhelmed. You haven't done anything wrong."

He takes a hiccuping breath. "But I did! I—I wished that King Harrow would die, so we could go home. I just wanted everything to be like it was before, with Dad. Now he's—I don't want him to die!"

He's crying hysterically again, and Sarai holds him tight. All the pieces suddenly come together—this year's cold takes root in the chest, leading to a wet, hacking cough. Harrow's coughing fits, while already subsiding, had been loud and frequent for the first few days. Loud enough to be heard from nearly anywhere in the lodge.

She and Damian had kept the worst of his condition from Callum, but not everything could be hidden, especially if Damian was to have any kind of life in his remaining time. So Callum saw when he coughed convulsively until he strained to breathe, air barely wheezing in and out of his lungs. Even if that wasn't the case, he'd heard his father's labored, rattling breaths at the end.

"Oh, sweetie," she says. "He's not going to die, I promise. He'll be just fine in a few days."

Callum shakes his head wildly, clinging to her. "I'm sorry," he sobs again.

"It's okay," Sarai soothes him, rubbing slow circles into his back. "It's okay, Callum. Sometimes, when we're angry or scared, we think or say things we don't really mean. There have been a lot of big changes, and that can feel scary and unfair. I wish we could have done things differently."

She swallows around the lump forming in her throat. "Your dad—I was angry and scared for a long time, when we found out how sick he was. I was angry that he wouldn't get to see you grow up, and I was scared of what life would be like without him. I had a lot of mean thoughts about people who I knew loved me, and were only trying to help. I didn't let those thoughts take root, and I know you won't, either—you'll breathe, and let them out."

She inhales deeply through her nose and exhales slowly through her mouth, repeating until Callum was breathing with her. His crying slows as he relaxes.

"Harrow can't ever replace your dad, but whatever he becomes to you, I know he loves you very much." She hugs him close, smiling when he hugs her back. "How about this? We can toast some cheese sandwiches and bring some soup up to him for lunch, like a picnic. He'll be happy to see you."

Callum nods, rubbing his nose with his sleeve. Sarai pokes it lightly. "Then, if the Crownguard say the ice is safe, we can go skating."

"Maybe, instead of skating," Callum says tentatively, as he hops down from her lap, "we could play a game from the game room this afternoon."

So Harrow can play, too. All of us together. She smiles, levering herself up from the couch. "That's a wonderful idea, sweetie. Go pick one out, and I'll start the sandwiches."

She's still smiling as he scampers off excitedly, and she heads for the kitchen. Lunch and games with all three of them, together—it looks like they just might be becoming a family.

[hobiespick]

Sam Winchester x reader headcanons part 3

<33

a/n: heyyyyyy I had so much fun writting these. I am literally shaking as we speak cuz i'm still kinda shy abt this even tho yall showed me sm love and gave so much positive feedback on the first 2 parts I was giggling, blushing, and twirling my invisible phone cord. Thank you all so much for everything and enjoy my shitty thoughts 🫶💞 + tagging a lovely person who gave me the idea of writting one of these @yinorathedragontamer

Summary/Warnings: tooth rotting fluff, Sam Winchester x gn!reader , Sam being the biggest boyfriend of all boyfriends (im quoting one of my moots), the first headcanon isn't sam x reader it's Jess x Sam (rip to the hottest couple) the headcanon came to me in a prophetic vision and i just had to leave it here, mention of Sam's childhood + I couldn't help myself but make a few headcanons about Dean too.

- I have a deep feeling (i'm an empath) that around college when he was with Jess and he wouldn't leave her side, Sam accidentally got adopted by her girl group of friends - hear me out - he would cling to Jess for his dear life shaking and not wanting to intrude or make him look nosy and Jess's girlfriends wouldn't bat an eye, welcoming Sam with open arms and treating him the same - they are the reason his guilty pleasure is gossiping. One of Jess's (girl)friends coming hurriedly towards the group with a shocked expression and a hand covering her mouth and Sam already knows the tea is scrumptious - he probably got called "girl" so many times - he didn't mind it btw, actually kinda liked it because that means they included him - spreading my "Sam Winchester enjoys the company of female friends more than male ones agenda" like wildfire ‼️ - "wyd when me and my gang pull up" and it's five y2k girls + a preppy blonde girl whose boyfriend is some 6'4 emo kid with a Green Day tee who follows her around with heart eyes

- "Dean, move your leg or I'm throwing your fucking mixtapes out of the window" you threaten annoyed at the audacity of the long ass older Winchester to just stretch out as if you're not both (tired af) in the back seat of baby, you try to find a comfortable position for what feels like the 50th time to stay for a few hours untill all of you make it in one piece to Washington (Dean might not since he is acting like that). "You touch my mixtapes and I might throw you out of the window, runt." Dean barks (lovingly), lifting his sunglasses on his head and pointing a defensive finger at you. You are too tired to think and to retort something snarky back but still settle on rolling your eyes and giving his foot a kick.

Sam is driving like a princess in the front, his legs are streched out with his back comfortably resting against his seat with an arm lazily holding the steering wheel as the wind coming from the rolled window brushes some of his hair on his forhead, all while looking effortlessly handsome. "Don't make me come back there" Sam laughs breaking the character he wanted to play along as (hint: dads on road trips). Sam's pants would catch on fire if he said he was annoyed at your childish bickering with his brother, he found it endearing. It just added to the list of things he liked about you. You gasp a little bit too dramatically and gesture towards Dean "He started it" you grumble. Dean gives you a kick of his own pulling his sunglasses back down and crossing his arms, atleast he retreats his legs giving you enough space to rest yours.

- uses every excuse to touch you (his hands are literally twitching in anticipation to hold yours, or hug you)

- Dean is a classic rock etillist (he learned that from J*hn) but his guilty pleasure is nu metal especially limp bizkit. - he only listens when Sam isn't around. - says he's getting himself a little treat (fancy headphones) with his hard-earned money (poker/credit card fraud) - J*hn introduced him to led zeppelin and Dean feels like he's dissapointing him by not being a carbon copy of him hence his secrecy - So the "guilty pleasure" has deeper roots

- Sam told you he doesn't remember owning a childhood plushie, you fix that

- you open the door and close it with your foot, hands clinging to the bag you're holding to your chest after almost stumbling over. Sam's expression changes into a smile upon your arrival, kinda like a golden reriever. He gets up from the reasearch papers scatterred around the table no longer the center of his attention to greet you.

"Hey" the word 'sweetheart' almost sneaks out of his mouth but he contained himself with grace, god forbid he makes you uncomfortable (he's alot like you y'know? ). "Hi" you reply breathlessly due to your almost stunt and the fact that Dean took Baby out so you had to walk back to the motel in the humid weather of Washington. You take off your shoes and set the bag on the table, Sam's nosy self is itching to see what's inside. Before you open anything you make sure to peel off the hoodie you have on and rest it on a chair. "I got something but i need you to close your eyes and lay out your hands please." You start already bitting back a smile with a tinge of nervousness at what his reaction could be.

Yes, you got Sam a plushie. You got matching ones, the one for Sam is a brown moose with dark brown glass eyes that kept reminding you of him. The one you got for yourself is a same-zise moose plushie in your favourite color. What's even more cuter is that both of the plushies came as a package and they can stick their hands together with the magic of little pieces of square shaped tape on each their hands (hooves?). Sam is scared and excited at the same time. He will thank you for whatever you got him, he raised himself to be gratefull, it's just that growing up he learned and was usually met with dissapointment. John not showing up for his soccer game and neither Dean because he is hunting with him? Yeah he knows. Not even a call from his dad on his 21st birthday? Yeah he expected that. But he knows you, and the amount of times you have dissapointed him. (hint: zero)

So he does as you told him to. He extends his hand and turns it over, his other arm resting by his side. He closes his eyes and does not open them once. Sam was that kinda kid at the playground, so fair and by the rules it's almost suspicious. He can hear the noise of the brown paper bag crinkling and somehow imagine the sight of you smilling brightly, a sight that almost bribes him to open his eyes and see for himself. He focuses on the sound untill he feels the soft velvet material of the plushie in his hands. He doesn't even open his eyes yet he just furrows his eyebrows in confusion as his fingers pet the fabric of the stuffed animal.

You stand there, the biggest most nervous smile planted on your face as you wait for his verdict. "Sam, you can open your eyes now." you speak loud enough for him to hear, and he does open them, they glisten wet under the crappy motel room light. He has this mix of sadness and joy on his face at the same time as he cranes his neck to look down at the stuffed animal in his hands, he can envelope it entirely if he tried. You wish you could read thoughts right now, to make Sam open up his brain to you and show you how he feels about this, whether the reaction is negative or positive, you just want (need) to hear him speak, fuck, he can even yell at you if that is what he chooses to do (he wouldn't in a million years). Regret hits you like a hurricane after a few seconds of silence, that's the last thing you wanted to do, make Sam remember what a shitty childhood he had with just a stuffed animal, a fucking toy. The thought that this could come off as a reminder for him that's like 'Hey buddy, your childhood is so fucked up I felt sorry for you, here' didn't even occur you. All you wanted to do is give him something normal, to make him feel normal, a feeling he has been chasing all of his life. You bought two matching moose plushies with the thought that you're gonna match with your bestfriend, you're going to share some normalacy with your bestfriend in your world, your monsters are real world.

You wanted to build a time machine and rescue little Sam and Dean from the fucking monster John Winchester was. Yes, John Winchester loved his boys, but neglect and love don't mix. Leaving a 10 year old to look out for a 6 year old isn't love, taking your children with you to fucking hunt and kill fairy tale monsters isn't love. "Sam?" You call out quietly, nervousness already visible in your body language. Sam shots his head up at the mention of his name and most importantly the tone of your voice. He gives you a weak tight lipped smile (as if the sight would spare you having to worry about him, as if you don't feel the need to bang your head against a wall whenever you see Sam in any kind of pain) and wipes a tear that runs down his cheek with the cuff of his hoodie. "Sam- I'm sorry- I thought-" You justify yourself and attempt at swallowing the lump formed in your throat, you rub your sweaty palms on your jeans and feel like the biggest asshole in the world. You awkwardly take a step closer untill you take in consideration the idea that getting closer might be the last thing he needs right now so you step right back. Sam tears taste sweet, he can confirm it himself. The way you spent time and money going to provide him with something he was wrongfully stolen off of having when he was only a kid made him tear up in the spam of a few seconds. You asked, he answered, you felt sorry, he desperately wants you to comfort him, then you do something to make him feel appreciated/cherished. He glances at you and sees the state you're in. His legs instinctively take three long strides towards you and envelopes you in the most comforting embrace anyone has ever gave you. You don't need to be psychic or practice insane voodoo/hoodoo to know exactly how this made him feel, it's all in this hug. You hug him back and Sam starts rubbing circles with his index finger on your back, he is crying his eyes out and he's still comforting anyone but himself. You hear his sniffles as he agressively wipes his nose with his cuff. "Thank you" he croaks out, his tone hoarse and raspy. He rests his head on top of yours and you can feel him finally relax. You can also tell he has no intention of breaking the hug anytime soon but that is your last worry. You made Sam happy tonight and that's all it matters.

- you and Sam are the golden retriever + black cat duo the world needs. - grocery trips with him (he doesn't need anything, just wanted to go with you) that are fun and weirdly domestic. - it's all making jokes and finding eachother the snacks you usually eat untill someone bumps into him and HE apologizes. "Sorry" he says giving the dude that's shorter than him a tight lipped smile. The dude presses "Almost dropped my shit 'cause of you assh-" You cut him off by clearing your throat and making him turn around his face dropping as he notices your glare at him. "He said he was sorry." You chide (threaten) with a scarily blunt tone, you have no idea how someone can even dare to look the wrong way at Sam, he's too tall for his own good and he's built like a brick wall. "Whatever" the dude leaves scoffing , your expression softening as soon as your eyes settle on Sam. He has a stupid dorky look on his face and adoration in his eyes, his hands shoved in his jean pockets towering over you almost awkwardly. "Ugh. What is it today asshole day?" You joke breaking the silence, (yes, you're quoting kat stratford) Sam just laughs and nods, you could say it's Christmas and he would believe you. "Looks like it." He agrees, not even caring for that asshole that he could've handled himself just fine, he hunts monsters for a goddamn career. He just adores the way you jumped to take his side.

- expressing your wish to find or atleast thrift a brown carhartt jacket similar to Sam's, only for him to offer giving it to you whenever you wanna wear it.

- "S'okay you can wear it i don't mind, you just have to ask me before, yeah?" - he also can't stop blushing at the sight of you in his already baggy jacket appearing more larger on you.

- the jacket engulfs you in this sense of security and an addictive smell of Sam (his fav earthy cologne) - the way you're looking good, happy, and warm in his jacket makes Sam's heart skip a few beats. - Dean smirks and compliments you, having to take a double look to confirm it's infact Sammy's jacket on you "Looking good, Y/n" he smiles and sends Sam a wink you're to oblivious to notice but you do notice the tone he uses, replying back skeptically "Thanks?" but you shrug it off asking Sam if he wants to come with you to this fast food place to bring back dinner.

- When Dean's brain cells put 2 and 2 togheter and realizes you and Sam are absolutely pining for eachother he purposefully does alot of stuff so you're stuck spending time with Sam and vice versa. It's either an easy move to make you two go out/stay in or it's a geniusly absolutely malefically strategically thinked and mastered 50 step plan that has atleast 20 plan B's in case anything goes wrong but we all know he doesn't need them, the mission goes smoothly each time. if Winchesters are anything, it's stubborn, incredibly and stupidly stubborn so Dean is not giving up on making one of you confess to eachother and if you don't he might take matters in his own hands and scream it out loud enough for You and Sammy to hear.

- he is so eager, the first time you kissed him he automatically assumed he's your boyfriend. - "Is that any way to speak with your boyfriend?" With a jokingly hurt face and a dramatically placed hand on his chest when you're being too mean. - "As your boyfriend and your lore boy.." - "I'm Sam, their boyfriend.." when he's introducing himself to person he knows has certain intentions with you or somebody making you uncomfortable.

- you pulled a muscle in your shoulder while on a hunt and stubbornly denied anything ever hurted even when Sam asked. - you keep rolling your shoulder when Sam says "Looks like you pulled something alright. You probably shouldn't move too much, you'll just make it worse." You scoffed at that, no way Sam for real? I had no idea I had to do that, thank god a smart boy like yourself is right beside me. "Are you mansplaining to me how to let a pulled muscle heal?" You retort, mainly because of the pain partially cause mansplaining is unnecessary and ignorant. And when Sam thought he couldn't like you any more than he already does you proved him wrong. He only chuckled, amused by your snarky reply, even going as far as to apreciate your attitude. "I'm not mansplaining anything, I'm just stating facts. Even a five year old could tell you that overusing a muscle will make the pain worse." He teased back.

- He enjoys the intimacy between the two of you when there are jokes and certain things you and him can laugh about because you're both huge nerds.

- Bobby let's you borrow whatever books you want from his huge ass library (mans probably got illegal books there)

- Bobby and Dean give eachother knowing looks whenever you and Sam literally do anything togheter, you and him pretend not to notice, not even mentioning it.

- guys i wanna cuddle with Sam Winchester so bad it's not even funny anymore *sobbing while my eyeliner mixed with tears is running down my face*

- he's a big cuddlebug I am willing to bet all my life savings and my first born he is. - the way you feel so safe and comforted when his light pole build wraps two arms around you, holding you close, trying to get you impossibly closer. - his hugs are the same, tender yet firm reflecting on his gentle nature. - just spoons you when he finds you on the couch sleeping with a bunch of research papers scattered and dusty old books around you which he tosses aside, because he is too proud to ask for cuddles.

- you wake up in the middle of the night you have no idea what time is it, you have one missing sock, your throat is dry, and you feel an arm draped over your waist getting tighter around you the more you twist around. And that's when you hear it, it's right next to your ear, Sam's low sleepy hum as he stirrs behind you, nudging his face deeper into your neck. You have no choice but to lay there untill he wakes up 'cause there is no escaping.

a/n: again i'm posting this shaking, this took so long I was scared I wasn't gonna finish it. They are so long they might not classify as headcanons but i couldn't care less. The plushie one made me feel like hamilton while writting it lmaoo. Hope yall enjoyed!! 💞 feedback would be very much appreciated<33

[lady-griffin]

Possible Idea for the Firelights in S2

Which I’ve fallen way too much in love with, btw

After the Firelight Base is attacked, where do they go?

Do they just go back to their broken, destroyed home? Try to fix it up? Can they even go back?

Do they disperse?

Or do they go to a location most people (especially those from topside) would have difficulty navigating if they didn’t know exactly where to go?

Like an abandoned mine of sorts? One with really large, giant machines suspended in the air that could be used as little community hubs, perfectly accessible for those with hoverboards?

It’s just something to consider.

Seriously, I can’t express how much I love the idea of Jinx’s lair becoming the new base for the Firelights. I love it way too much; I’m going to be crushed when it doesn't happen (which to be fair is totally on me).

The old mines would be perfect for the Firelights, especially in helping them recover and giving them a sense of extra protection and security after what they’ve gone through.

Maybe it’s not permanent, but it doesn't have to be, it allows them to stay together, so it’s home for the moment

Destroying their base, likely making them scared to return, is an ingenious way to physically separate a group of people who are loyal to one another and fight well together, but this way they wouldn’t have to disperse.

It seems like the mines are well-hidden and isolated, with a lot of natural defenses – it’s been abandoned for a long time, there’s probably a complicated tunnel system to the cavern, and it has multiple physical locations (the drill/fans we’ve seen) that others (their enemies) can’t easily get to.

There are probably a few like Jinx’s lab, where they connect to the tunnels that lead outside, but the few we’ve seen in the background, seem pretty inaccessible – unless you’re a group of people who can fly.

There’s also the idea of Piltover and Noxus winning the day and those who’ve been pushed to live underground having to retreat further down to be safe.

But it’s not a defeat, it’s just a retreat. They’re still here.

I also really love the idea of how this place once represented darkness and the abyss, basically daring you to look down, especially when compared to Ekko's original base for the Firelights, representing light and hope, encouraging you to look up.

It’s still the same place it was in S1, but it's changed with all these other people sharing it with Jinx.

Not because she was forced to, but because she chose to open her space to others, one that was solely hers and we only saw her and Silco there.

But now it's filled with others, who've impacted and changed it with their own touches of color and graffiti and when we look, we see there are all these little pockets of light and color in the dark abyss.

There's still darkness, but it's no longer all consuming.

And I don't know, the idea just warms my heart so much, and I really, really want to see it.

Also, I can’t fully tell, but when Ekko is pulling the chain in the trailer, the area is dark and it could be a cave. So, maybe? Again, it’s hard to tell.

Seriously though, I love this idea so goddamn much!

[adultish-momma]

High Horses and Lashing Vipers

Two prideful people fight in a kitchen. That's it, that's the fic.

Warnings!(?): Jamil and Yuu curse. A lot. Nothing too extreme (at least I don't think), but there are quite a few f bombs. I headcannon that Jamil curses a lot in his head so when he feels safe enough to speak without a filter that translates to real life.

A/N: Can you tell which trope Yuu and Jamil would be after this fic? No but honestly I mentally come back to this fight all. the. time. I've had most of this dialogue in my drafts for almost two years? So I figured it was finally time to put this piece to bed. Hope you all enjoy!

As always please do let me know if there's any warnings you think I've missed!

"How's it feel?"

They startle him, appearing like a ghost to haunt him with his failures. He cuts them a mean side-eye, glare intensifying at the disappoinment radiating off of them.

"How's what feel?" He hopes his words drip venom. He feels like he can still feel the poison from the ink racing in his veins. Part of him hopes they still feel it too.

"How's it feel knowing you had the entirety of the Scalding Sands in the palms of your hands, and you threw it all away?"

They can't be serious.

"Threw it away?" A derisivie scoff. "You took it from me. I had it, and you and those meddling mer-fucks ripped it away from me!"

"Please, your little coup hissy fit was nothing. You threw away any ounce of power you had when you decided to betray Kalim."

At this point Jamil is seething, that same viscous and angry feeling from the Overblot seeping into his pores. His vision blurs at the edges, eyes narrowing in on the insolent street-rat that dared oppose him.

"I have more power than Kalim could ever hope to possess. That pathetically naive child -"

"Owns your whole world. Your broken, fucked up caste system is maintained by those at the top, and it can be demolished by those at the top. And that child would have delivered every bit of social change you ever craved for on a fucking silver platter with a beaming smile on his face if you had asked for it when he trusted you."

"You have no idea what you're talking about -"

"No Jamil, you don't. You're still too blinded by your ridiculous need for what? 15 minutes of fame? Recognition? Validation from strangers who know nothing about you?"

"It's what I deserve!" he hisses. With every word, he steps into the prefect's personal space, backing them up until they have nowhere left to go. "That sniveling fool gets praised for being able to wipe his own ass, while I slave away keeping his dumbass alive and running this whole dorm and upholding my own grades and clublife and catering to his every fucking whim! So yes, Prefect, I do deserve to be worshipped and idolized just as much if not more than my master."

"YOU WERE!" They explode, forcing Jamil retreat lest he end up even more in their crossfire. It's the first time they've lost their composure, voice echoing off the kitchen tile. "You were idolized! This whole dorm never shut the fuck up about how good you are, how talented and disciplined and hardworking you are. And Kalim?"

"Stop." It's uttered threw gritted teeth. He can't bear to hear it anymore, not from anybody, but especially not from them.

"Kalim damn near worshipped the ground you walked on."

"Just stop."

"No. Because you're still not listening Jamil."

"Stop. Talking."

"You were number one in the eyes of everyone who mattered Jamil". It's said softly, whispered into the charged space between them. Damning words. Everything he's ever wanted to hear, and yet the straw that breaks the camel's back.

"GET OUT!"

It isn't until Jamil can't hear the prefect's receding footsteps that he thinks over their original question. "How's it feel?" Looking around the school kitchen (the only place that feels safe from the disdain of his dormmates on this entire campus), his eyes fall on the still dirty pots from the last time he was in here.

Jamil closes his eyes, and he can hear the Ramshackle residents laughing over the sounds of crockery clanging and pots bubbling. He can see it, the way they looked him in his eyes that first night, agreeing and trusting him before he could even think to use his unique magic. He can hear the smile in their voice over the din of the welcoming feast, and he can see them almost glowing under the moonlight.

Closing his eyes allows Jamil to recollect the way Kalim looked at the prefect.

He opens his eyes and still sees them backed into a corner, sees the self-righteous fire still burning behind their eyes. Eyes that stared him down. Despite knowing exactly what Jamil is capable of, Yuu still looked him in the eye, trusting him.

"How's it feel?" he ponders aloud. And slowly, a smile spreads on his face. "Freeing".

[sloanesallow]

Happy New Year

Happy is a relative term. I'm hopeful that 2025 will be kinder to me, after a not-so-great 2024. Sure, there were a lot of great moments this year, but it's been difficult for me to be in a positive head-space lately.

It does feel good to get it all out though, so here goes:

The year started off well enough.

I finished writing MMHS, and started my next project, The Call of the Void. I wrote for almost all the monthly writing events on the OHL server, and was keeping up with my friend's fanfics.

Somewhere over the summer, I developed a horrible case of imposter syndrome and was struggling to get past it. It's still something I fight every day. It was easy to push aside and fight through, but then in November, my personal life fell into shambles.

My cat, whom I've had since he was born, died just shy of his 18th birthday. He had a stroke on 11/4, and then just didn't recover, passing on 11/13. The grieving process hasn't been easy, and I still find myself incredibly devastated by his loss. Nothing in my life has felt normal since he died, and unfortunately, I have not received much sympathy from my family, who believe I should be well past the sadness by now.

Then I got sick with the flu, and it was the sickest I've been in years, leaving me bedridden for a few days, and even two weeks later, I still have a horrible cough. During this time, I realized that I don't have anyone in my life (physically) that I can rely on for help. I've always prided myself on being independent, but sometimes you want to be cared for, and when there's nobody there, it can lead to a kind of loneliness that is unshakable. I tried to reach out and ask for help but was closed off or shut down, so I retreated. I've been trying to keep the few (offline) friendships and connections I have with people alive, but the effort isn't being reciprocated, so I've given up. Knowing they will likely not notice or care that I've disappeared from their life brings a different kind of heartbreak. My body and mind were broken down and it threw me into an even deeper depression.

I'm not one to linger in depressive states, but this melancholia has lingered. I fell into a head-space where every little thing makes me sad or irrationally angry, and all I do is cry (when previously, I cry maybe once a year). Trying to fight through it is a monumental task; it's hard when you can recognize your own toxic behaviors and try to correct them. It leaves you trapped in a cycle of fighting your own thoughts, trapped without seeing a way out. I stopped doing anything except work. I haven't really been taking care of myself, and have been self-isolating so I don't bring others down with my dark cloud.

All this to say, I've also lost my creative spark. I've lost all my confidence in writing, due to this depression, and haven't been able to crawl out of the hole just yet. I really tried to last month, but I still felt empty. I hate it about myself, but I crave validation, and when it's not received in the way I hope, I shut down. I feel like I've been pouring my heart and soul into stuff so it hurts when there is little to no feedback. I'm grateful, and will always be grateful for the people that engage with my work, but it's hard. I never want to be an obligation and want people to be here because they want to, not because they feel they have to. Most days, I feel like a black sheep in fandom spaces, or at least like the odd one out in writing groups. I know this is my own evil brain but there are a lot of times when I feel unwelcome, or forgotten, or an afterthought. I know I cannot expect to be welcome everywhere, or liked by everyone, but it still hurts me deeply, especially when it's obvious I'm not wanted. Growing up, I've never been anyone's first choice, so this mentality is hard to shake.

Okay, so now that all the bad feelings are out in the open, you know why I've been so MIA the last few months. I really am trying, though most days are spent just trying to exist. I'm searching for little bouts of joy from wherever I can find it.

Thank you to everyone who has been here this year, supporting me and my manic brain. I'm grateful for the friends I've made, the art I've shared, and my place in fandom.

What I hope for 2025:

Write, of course. Without being too harsh on myself. Write for myself.

Read more, and support the community I love.

Take more social media breaks, to better my mental health.

Be kinder to myself.

May you all have a happy and safe New Year. 💛✨

[vanillyanmocattio]

agere sensories - auditory (sounds)

seeking:

You can make spotify playlists, youtube playlists, or even make your own private folder with agere songs/asmrs on your phone! One things i love about the internet is how easy it is to find and download songs, use it to your advantage!

To movie loving or game loving littles, you can look up [insert media you're looking for] OST - Official Soundtrack. If you're looking for shows, OP is opening, if you want a longer version of a soundtrack you can look for an extended version, and game specific, if you like the instruments you hear in a certain game, you can look for a soundfont cover

There is a ton of musical and sound toys! Toy instruments, recorders, xylophones, kalimbas, kazoos, music boxes (god i love these)! There are also electronic toys, talking toys, dog toys (hi and love you pet regressors), bells, rattles (you can even make your own)!

For calmer noise seeking, search animal videos! What sound does a duck, or a fox make? Asmrs can also be satisfying, like toy unboxing or various tingly videos (be careful - not every asmr account is sfw!)

go outside if you feel like it! Even something as simple as rain can be stimulating, let alone visiting a park, a store or even arcades. Just remember about your limits and prepare yourself just in case.

You don't need to have stim toys to generate noise! Pen clicking, coins or keys jiggling, zippers, even your own voice, clicking your tongue, making animal sounds.. Having agere gear is great, but it doesn't mean you can't use what you already have!

Also, you can bird watch from your window! It really helps me slip into the little space, and listening to the pretty chirps is so nice! You could get a bird house and bird seeds over your window, and watch the little friends visit over the winter!

video games/phone games are very noise stimulating! especially rhythm games (like a dino, cough cough). The age range is also vast for them, from toddlers to teens to even adults! Did you know there's even a method of accessing flash games?

cartoons and anime are also stimulating! specifically targeted at the older audience (older kids/teens), they're a burst of sounds and colors! I think 2000s/2010s especially fit that energetic feeling, so does shōnen and magical girl genres! (Just check the age rating before starting!)

If you have friends who also age regress, meet up! a bunch of littles in one room WILL generate a lot of noise!

avoidant:

ear mufflers, headphones, ear phones, ear plugs. Protect your ears! It's completely normal, don't worry about it

visit places when the traffic is down, or within quiet hours (some places have it for autistic people, though as far as I can tell it often doesn't include lights so I didn't mentioned it in the visual avoidant)

museums! Libraries! Parks (out of regular hours)! forests!

whenever you're traveling, keep track of potential quiet spots

as much as i love my quiet time, please do not sacrifice sleep for it! You could get up early (6 AM, 7 AM) to still have quieter time, but your nini time is sacred!

visit places out of season (most often autumn/winter)! They sometimes are cheaper, and you get the benefit of not many people attending

give yourself a designated nap time. Turn off the noise, cover the windows, limit other sensories that give you discomfort, and take a rest (not necessarily a nap dw)

have someone to shield you from the noise. Maybe it's a companion plush, maybe It's a CG, maybe it's a friend. Having something to redirect your thoughts to in tough environments is a game changer! But it shouldn't be a replacement for other support

It's good to have a list of things you're okay or not okay with if you're sensory sensitive. Sometimes we get so excited that we forget our limits, and later get overwhelmed, and it's okay! However you may want to keep track of it to potentially limit your distress.

It's okay to retreat if things get too much. Age regression is your coping mechanism, and nobody else's, only you can dictate your boundaries. Stay safe <3

[mehoymalloy]

Fanfic writer interview

Thanks @bluntblade for the tag!

what fandoms do you write in? — Primarily Critical Role, though I hope to get back to Stray Gods and Horizon at some point.

how many words have you published in 2024? — 75,334!

what is your greatest achievement this year? — Even though it is still an unpublished WIP, the Judicator AU, by far!

what are your top three fics you've written this year? — In chronological order (and all Rated E):

Resentful Surrender (Critical Role; Imogen/Otohan)

"Otohan," Imogen mutters, and it's ridiculous how, even now, Otohan's gaze darts right back to her, watching the way Imogen's lips shape their name with such resignation. "Can't you just let me have this one day? One day where I don't have to worry about– everything?" She gestures vaguely to 'everything,' her hand caught somewhere between the two of them even as it's tossed about in frustration—Otohan, Imogen, them, this. This feels like a concession Otohan shouldn't grant. And yet, all it takes is one long moment wherein those eyes remain locked and unwavering on Otohan's own, and Otohan does grant it—the slow rise and fall of their shoulders resembling a retreat, the stiff nod they offer something like surrender. --- Or: Otohan does not cope well with surrender.

a craving, not a crush (Critical Role; Dancer/Imogen)

“This always work for you, Dancer?” Imogen asks softly. “Get a girl a drink and next thing you know they fall into bed with you?” “Only if I get real lucky,” she says. Metallic fingers find Imogen’s hand where it rests against the table, slowly skimming up her arm and over her shoulder. Imogen can hear the dull whir of working machinery as Dancer carefully plucks a loosened strand of hair from her small side braid and tucks it behind her ear. Then she leans in a little closer, and the spiced scent of alcohol on her breath is more pleasant than it has any right to be. “And I gotta say”—chilled fingertips draw up goosebumps in their wake as Dancer gently drags them down the side of Imogen’s neck—“I’m feelin' pretty damn lucky.” --- Or: Long after the dust settles, Imogen and Dancer reminisce about FCG over drinks and then spend the night together.

Short Circuit (Critical Role; Imogen/Otohan), @inomakani and I's first installation of our Poly Bells Hells Cyberpunk 2077 AU series called 'Night City, Neon Hearts'

“Thought you weren’t interested in upstart crews.” “Not the lot of you, no—but the 'runner primarily responsible for breaching Night Corp’s firewall, yes,” Anvil says, lifting their hand and pointedly tucking a lock of hair behind Imogen’s ear. Then fingertips skim down her jaw and abruptly apply pressure. Imogen inhales sharply, eyes widening in surprise and repressed outrage as Anvil forcibly tilts Imogen’s chin to the side, overtly examining the three ports clustered together along the side of her skull. Like hell Imogen’s letting this bitch anywhere near Laudna. --- Or: Imogen and an infamous fixer of Night City deal in favors and clenched fists.

what was your biggest pit of despair moment? — When I took a lengthy break from the Judicator AU despite how much I love it to let the brain recharge! I miss my blorbos in every universe at all times simultaneously.

what have you learned? — The prior-mentioned Pit of Despair moment definitely helped me learn to enjoy the process more than the product when it comes to writing, especially when that process means collaborating with wonderful friends!

did you beta any fics? any faves you want to shout out? — Two that I recall (after a timely reminder lol), and I highly recommend both!

@lavendertheys' push her back, pull me in

“I can’t believe this is real,” Imogen manages, brushing her lips across Laudna’s cheek and exhaling a hot puff of air against Laudna’s lips. “I can’t believe I—” She swallows loudly. “I have you all to myself.” Laudna’s hum of agreement fills the minimal space between them. “No prying eyes. No listening ears. What should we do about that,” she wonders aloud, “do you think?” “I got some ideas,” Imogen breathes as her nails dig into Laudna’s shoulder blades. She arches into the added pressure and buries her fingers in Imogen’s hair. “Imogen, darling…” Laudna husks, then traces the pad of her thumb along Imogen’s bottom lip. “I’d really like to hear them.” (Somft Smut for ep103. Title from "All You Wanted" by Sounds Under Radio.)

@sasseffect3's Predathos!Imogen before it became canon fic: I'd burn the world for you

Sheer power radiates in waves, along with a steadily increasing throbbing at Laudna’s temples, as the figure unfurls and stretches out in full display. And all she can think is— “Beautiful,” Laudna breathes. - When Laudna goes down in battle, Imogen turns to her absolute last resort.

what three fics have you read this year that you love? — Oh god I do not read fic often but of what I have read, it's gotta go to:

@foibles-fables' Talnaloy BEAN fic, entering light

They’re not as fragile as you think, Zo had assured her years ago upon her obvious initial hesitation to hold Vel. Go on, you won’t break her. And while she was right, this is different. This isn't about breaking. Not exactly. - What is the child, but a Mother’s hope that takes flight? With her newborn daughter, Aloy begins to learn.

@lavendertheys' fanfic of my fanfic (and what made us friends because they busted up in my DMs at 6am to tell me all about the idea), falling, fading, i'll do 'bout anything

“Laudna?” she pants, broken and strained as she tries desperately to catch her breath. “Letters?” Tears burning as they fall, vision staying blurry even after she blinks the moisture away, she needs help, she needs help, she’s going to die, she needs— “Put pressure on it.” Imogen doesn’t have it in her to be jarred by Otohan’s voice as it floats through her muddled consciousness.

And Ima expose myself with this one (tho y'all already know I like to ship fucked up stuff) but killingcve's homecoming song (all gone wrong) because I watched Sharp Objects and it rewired my brain a lil bit

Names flit behind her eyes. Marian. Amma. Adora. Natalie. Anne. Mae. Alice. Camille. She holds Amma, still knuckle-deep inside her. Naked body pressed against her half-clothed own. A precious, filthy, ugly little thing. Her homecoming queen. - or: ammille car sex, but this time it's on LSD

what ideas are percolating for next year? — TOO MANY. I hope to finish drafting and start editing/posting Judicator AU, not to mention continue working on the 'Night City, Neon Hearts' series. There's also @maddytrout and I's multiple AU ideas and multi-chap fics (Escort AU and the Killer Cop AU being the big two). And that's not even mentioning just plain 'ole Me's stuff: the sequel for Let Me Lay Waste to Thee and a Grace/Athena longfic being the two I really wanna get back to eventually. With that said, I'm sure many random oneshot ideas will grab hold of my brain and refuse to let go until they're written, so we shall see!

who do you want to thank? It goes without saying, but I of course can never say it enough: thank you Ino for being my best friend and creating wonderful worlds together with me. Also: thank you Maddy for barreling into my life and adopting me as your introvert friend. Thank you @immult for continuously infecting me with random rarepair ideas and unhinged situations to explore.

tagging: all of the above, as well as @pegasuswriter and @peridaniel

[5aaliyah5]

Textbooks couldn’t prepare me for this

Chapter 4: Explanations and Important Conversations

Pairing: Professor Hange x Student Reader College AU/Roommate AU

Warnings: mentions of throwing up but not graphic

Yup, another chapter only a day after the third one came out. I already had parts of this written, as in this chapter we start getting into the heart of the story/ Hange and Y/N attraction for one another. Hope you enjoy and like always I’m taking requests right now on Tumblr!

Also- adding the playlist once more:

Y/N turned to Hange, who she noticed was also blushing at the accusation, however, they stood up “Y/N, explain everything to her, I'll head to my room to give you two some space.” Y/N winced at their words. Great, this was just great. Things had been amazing between her and Hange for the past few weeks, and Y/N hoped this wouldn't change that.

“Come sit down with me…” Y/N sighed. She hadn’t even had coffee yet, and here she was trying to defend her honor to her best friend. What if Sasha didn’t believe her when she said nothing had happened between her and Hange? She hoped Sasha would have enough faith in her to know that that wasn’t Y/N.

“So… Y/N are you sure nothing has happened between you two?” She asked, “I mean- this is an unusual conversation to even have with my best friend, but it’s also unusual circumstances.” Y/N didn’t want anything between her and Sasha to change either and the idea of losing her friend worried her.

“Sash, I swear, nothing is happening between me and Hange. Ask your Dad. We are roommates and this is just honestly, a whole mistake…” Y/N babbled, with Sasha reaching out and placing a hand on Y/N’s shoulder to calm her. Y/N breathed in and stated, “Nothing is happening between me and Hange.” Y/N reiterated, and Sasha nodded.

“Okay…” Sasha was quiet for a second and then said “I know Y/N. Sorry, I just freaked out for a second. I know you aren't the type to do something like that.” Sasha sighed and clasped Y/N’s hands in her own, as Y/N calmed down. She was glad Sasha believed her.

“Look, Sasha, you cannot tell Jean or Connie about Hange living here. Especially Jean!” Y/N squeezed Sasha's hands “He would freak out if he found out that the professor we share is living with me. We just became friends and I don't want him to think less of me because of this.

“I promise I won't Y/N! You have my word.” Sasha then stood up “Ill also have a word with my dad- I can't believe he set you up as a roommate with a professor from the school!”

“I don't think he understood that it would be inappropriate-” Y/N started and then added “And I don't think he could have imagined that they would be my professor as well. I mean- there are a lot of psychology professors at Shiganshina University, and technically they don't even teach psychology as their major, I think they do Biology. The university just couldn't find a teacher to teach Biological Psychology.”

“Well still, I'll see if there are any solutions we could come up with.” Sasha looked to Y/N, then asked “Do you mind living with them? Because if so, you could come to stay in my apartment. I wouldn't mind having you as a roommate Y/N especially for as long as we’ve known one another.”

“No- it's okay Sash. Actually… I've grown used to their company. They are fun to be around, and everything has been fine between us. No awkwardness, no fights, nothing. It worked out better than I could have hoped.” And it was. Y/N couldn't have thought of a better roommate than Hange, surprisingly. “I will take you up on your offer if something does happen between us, and I need to move. But right now, everything is good.”

“Okay... I'm down the hallway if you ever need me Y/N.”

“Thank you.” Y/N relaxed in the seat, glad that that was settled. She felt slightly bad for Hange now, who had ‘retreated to their room in shame’. She would offer them an apology later on for the whole situation. “So, what did you come over to talk about?”

“Oh yeah, yesterday!” Sasha’s eyes widened “Guess who just got an invitation to the most exclusive Halloween party?”

“Halloween? That isn’t for another month Sasha…” Y/N needed coffee badly if they were gonna start talking about Halloween now. Y/N stood up from the couch and motioned for Sasha to follow her to the Kitchen, which she did.

“Yeah, but this party happens every year and is so big that invitations get sent months in advance! I just happened to get an invitation because Jean buddied up with the frat house that throws it every year, and extended the invitation to Jean and his friends- which is us.” Sasha sat on the counter “I've been trying to get into this party since Freshman year, and now it's finally happening. The clout for just attending can be huge.”

“Well, I don't care much for ‘clout’ but if it's a fun party then, sure, I will go.”

“Yay!” Sasha cheered and quickly started her planning. “Okay- we need to have a matching theme!” Y/N could imagine the boys in whatever theme Sasha picked for them, and she laughed.

This would be good…

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A week had passed since Sasha had come over and things had slowly returned to normal. There was still a small tension between Y/N and Hange whenever Y/N mentioned Sasha’s name in a passing conversation, and Y/N felt for them. She knew they were worried about Sasha’s ability to not share the information with another person, however, they had told Y/N they trusted her so they would have to trust Sasha too.

There was also the whole idea of how Y/N and Hange were accused of sleeping with one another, which hadn’t even been a thought in either of their heads until Sasha put it there. Luckily, Hange had not bright it up to Y/N- either out of the need to keep the peace within their apartment or out of embarrassment.

Just like every other day, Hange and Y/N both stood in the small kitchen, as they worked together to start preparing dinner. Y/N hated touching raw meat, so Hange was handling that while Y/N prepped vegetables for their dinner.

“Hm? Where did we get these?” Hange asked as they took out the pepper and salt, which were in the Rabbit Salt and pepper shakers Y/N had bought that day at the store.

“OH- I bought those when we went to the store!” She said excitedly, as Hange admired them, turning them in their hand. “I thought they looked like us- Because this one has floppy ears and it looks like my hair” Y/N took the salt shaker, which was painted white. “-and this one has its ears up and sticking out, and it reminds me of your ponytail.” Y/N smiled as she looked at the black-painted rabbit that Hange held.

“I like it!” Hange raised theirs to the light. On the rabbit, they both held signs that read ‘salt’ and ‘pepper’ and Hange got an idea “Why don't we name them?”

Y/N tilted her head “Name them? Hm, fine.”

“I call pepper for mine-”

“Pepper? That's too basic-” Y/N countered, and Hange argued.

“It fits though-” They looked at the sign their rabbit held that read ‘pepper’, and they couldn't imagine another name for her.

“Yeah, it fits cause it's a pepper shaker-”

“I don't care, that's what her name is.” They obviously were not gonna budge, so Y/N sighed and shrugged.

“Fine. I'll name mine…. Chai.” She placed her rabbit shaker on the counter.

“Chai? For the salt shaker?” They asked, and Y/N shot them a dirty look.

“I think it's charming.” She huffed the explained “I had a pet rabbit named Chai when I was little.”

“Well, I can't argue with that. Alright, Cha,i it is. Welcome to the family you two.” Hange smiled and sprinkled some pepper onto the beef. There was a silence that they shared, as Hange focused on the meat and Y/N helped peel the potatoes and zucchini. Eventually, Hange raised their head, turning to Y/N. They wanted to know more about her- their information about her and her background was so limited that the scientists in them needed to correct that. “Did you ever date?” They paused and then realized how their words may sound. Most likely creepy, considering they are her professor and roommate. “I'm asking cause I know you grew up in a strict family, right?”

“Right- Well, I've dated two people, and have only been on one official date.” Y/N finished the zucchini she had peeled and moved on to the potatoes, which were quite a few considering it would only be the two of them eating.

“Oh,” they said, and were slightly shocked.

“Yeah- First dated a boy in middle school. He was the son of my father's best friend and he insisted we start dating to ‘finally bring the two families together’. We both dated for a year surprisingly before he figured out that I wasn't… straight…” Y/N paused and then peeled the last potato and placed it to the side. She stood up and took the pot of potatoes before running them under water to rinse them off.

“Oh, so you-” Hange was cut off by Y/N though, as they cut the beef.

“Im… Queer” Y/N confirmed. It was still hard to admit to herself as through her youth, she was always taught she shouldn't be and it ‘wasn't natural’ but she could never change, nor see herself with a man. “My second relationship was with a girl, who I dated back in high school. We did it secretly until someone caught us and told my dad. When my dad found out, he pulled me out of all the classes I shared with her and forbade me from seeing her again…” Y/N sighed. “That was the first and last time I was in a relationship that I wanted or enjoyed. Ever since then, I haven't dated 'cause it wouldn't be worth it to me to be in a relationship if I wasn't happy.”

“I know what you mean-.” Hanges words caught Y/N off guard as she turned to them.

“What?”

“I also am not straight.” Hange threw the ingredients into the pot and opened a can of chicken broth. “Figured that out when I was in college, though that was only after I started dating.”

“Oh-” Y/N knew they had to have been part of the alphabet mafia, as they went by they/them pronouns, but she didn't know they would be interested in women. Y/N smiled and placed the pot of cleaned potatoes and zucchini next to Hange. “Well, at least we have one thing in common that isnt related to class.”

“Yeah, that's always nice…” Hange nodded their head. At the same time, both Y/N and Hange reached into the pot to grab the same potato, with Y/N and Hange ending up touching with their fingers. Y/N blushed and pulled back.

“I- I should go clean up before dinner.” Y/N took a step back.

“Yeah- it should be done in the next hour anyways. Thanks for your help-” And with that, Y/N rushed off to her room and shut the door.

It was odd. Ever since Sasha had come over and assumed that Y/N and Hange had slept with one another, Y/N couldn't get that thought out of her head. The idea played in her head that same night, and then over and over again. Her and Hange being… Intimate. It was a forbidden thought that Y/N secretly relished in, as she had never kissed anyone, much less slept with someone. Maybe it was because they were so forbidden and closed off from that scenario ever taking place that Y/N thought about it. How would that even go? Hange seemed much too kind and thoughtful to top her, and from what she had heard about sex, usually, one person needed to be dominant and one submissive. Correct? She was so clueless…

══✿══╡°˖✧✿✧˖°╞══✿══

Classes had gone smoothly despite it being almost halfway through the semester now, and the work getting more difficult. The amount of papers that Y/N had written was absurd but it also made sense as she was going into a very research-based career and would need to know how to write them.

“Hey-” Y/N said, as she sat cross-legged on the floor in front of the coffee table, with the long couch behind her. She had a small hand-held mirror in front of her, that she was looking into as she applied eyeshadow. The setting sunlight streamed through a window from a kitchen, casting the perfect amount of light into the living room for Y/N to see. When Y/N tried to put on her makeup in her room, it was either too dark, or she couldn't tell accurately whether her makeup was blended due to the lighting, so she moved into the living room.

Hange had entered the living room, partially surprised to see Y/N in there and seated on the floor. “Hey. What are you up to?” They asked as they watched her from the hallway entrance.

“Gonna go out to a Halloween party in a few hours, so I'm getting ready. Sasha invited me, and I know Connie and Jean are going so me and her will be okay.”

“Okay, be sure not to drink too much and be careful of your surroundings.” Hange came up behind Y/N and sat on the couch behind her, as they looked into her mirror to watch her focus on her eyes.

“I’ll be okay Hange, you don't need to worry.” Y/N glanced at them through her mirror for a second. “What are you gonna do this evening?”

“I'm gonna stay behind and hand out candy to any trick-or-treaters that make their way up here. I've seen kids around the apartment complex so I wouldn't be shocked if we got a few…” They leaned back and crossed their leg over the other.

“That's so sweet Hange!” Y/N placed down her mirror as she grabbed for her eyeliner next “I'm sure the kids will love that.”

“I hope so. I’ve never done this before so I only grabbed a bag of candy.” Hange quickly took a look at Y/N’s outfit. It was a short Black dress that looked like it was meant to be lingerie of some sort, with a grey bow tied around her waist. “So… what are you supposed to be?” They asked when Y/N looked up to them. She grinned and then shuffled in her spot for a second before producing a headband with a pair of ears on top of it.

“I'm a mouse- duh.” They choked for a second, as they started cracking up. They had not expected that answer.

“Mean girls reference I assume.” They asked and Y/N scoffed.

“Of course.” She responded and picked back up her eyeliner. “I'm going as Karen Smith, Sasha is supposed to be Grechen… and we made Connie go as Cady and Jean as Regina.” She applied her second wing, struggling for a minute with a look of concentration on her face before she approved of it. “I think Regina really fits Jean’s character actually-”

Hange sat in silence, watching Y/N apply the rest of her makeup with ease. They had never been so close nor had the time to just sit and watch the process, and they grew to appreciate it. They thought Y/N was beautiful, with or without makeup, hell, anyone with eyes could see how beautiful she was, but they were impressed by her patience and precision with the process it took to just do it.

“-Hange” Y/N said and Hange snapped out of their momentary trance, and then blushed. They had only caught the end of the sentence when she had said their name

“Hm? I'm sorry, I didn't get that-” Y/N giggled and repeated herself

“I said- It's been nice living with you Hange.”

Why were they feeling these things? It was wrong. They shouldn't be trying to hold themselves back from flirting with Y/N. They shouldn't be admiring how intelligent she was, they shouldn't be feeling jealous at the idea of Y/N one day dating someone if she chose to do that, And most importantly: THEY SHOULDN’T BE LOOKING DOWN THE GAP WHERE HER CLEVAGE WAS. They felt like an absolute pervert just thinking about Y/N in that manner, and disgusted with themself. “Dido.” They replied calmly, masking their internal freaking out.

“Yeah- I always know when my homework and papers are gonna get graded, You make good food, and you are pretty good company.” Y/N put on her mascara now, careful not to get the want on her upper eyelid or her cheek

“Love that you know when I grade things is on that list-” They rolled their eyes, amused at her words. “How do you know when I grade things?” They asked and folded their arms. They didn't care that she knew, but more so were curious how she knew.

“Ah, I noticed that whenever you drink coffee in the evenings, my grades are updated.” She grinned again, and Hange nearly swooned. She paid so close attention to them, to even notice something like that.

“Are you staking me Y/N?” They gave a fake gasp and placed a hand on their chest.

“You wish.” she stood up, gathered her makeup in her pouch, and walked to her room to put on her shoes.

Yes, Hange did secretly wish that.

══✿══╡°˖✧✿✧˖°╞══✿══

“Sash… I love you- but I genuinely thought this would be a smaller party.” Y/N sighed and shook her head. They had entered the house, thinking the inside might look different despite the dozens of people who were in the front yard already and drinking away. Inside was just as crazy to maneuver through the crowds of people “It looks like the whole campus came-”

“I mean… there are probably some party crashers in here, but it's hard to keep them out so they usually are allowed to stay” Jean shrugged as he walked into the house more, quickly being surrounded by the large group of people in the living room. He was easy to pick out as not only was he tall, but the white shirt that said ‘a little bit dramatic’ and pink cardigan made him hard to miss. He had fought and fought with Sasha on the costume until he realized he would be the only one left out if he didn't wear it. Yes, Sasha, Connie, and Y/N had peer-pressured Jean to be Regina George.

Connie- wearing a large pink shirt and saggy jeans- waved his hands towards Y/N and Sasha “Come on- let's go get some booze-” And they both shrugged and followed him. Y/N doubted they were gonna have anything she liked considering this party was thrown by a Frat house, but free alcohol was free alcohol, no matter if it was shitty.

The party didn’t get any better like Y/N had hoped, especially with the way Sasha had hyped it up, however, Y/N couldn’t complain about the decent music and free alcohol, so she stayed. They all stayed. Most of the night, Connie was with Sasha while Jean and Y/N paired up. It wasn't until Jean noticed the sway in Y/N’s steps that he decided to intervene, taking her cup from her and guiding her over to a couch.

“You okay Y/N you dont look to good…” Connie said over the music, as Sasha chatted to a group besides them.

“I don't feel too good…” Y/N replied and then looked at her friends. “I think… I think I'll be okay-” She started saying and then felt something in the back of her throat. She jumped up from her seat and tumbled out the front door and onto the porch where she leaned over the side and puked into the bushes below. At least she had made it outside, even with the few bystanders looking at her like she was odd.

Her friends had followed behind her, also breathing a sigh of relief at Y/N not puking in the house. “Oh shit… yeah we should get Y/N home…” Connie tossed his own red Solo cup’s contents out into the same bush Y/N had just finished throwing up in. “We don’t want her to puke here again, or on us.” Y/N walked down the porch steps and sat down clumsily on the cool grass and lying down. She could feel her body heating up and the nausea started to begin, even through the tingling that the alcohol caused.

“Hey Sash, ready to go?” Sasha gave a thumbs up, also drunk but not as drunk as Y/N.

“Yeah let’s bounce- I think some of the food in there wasn’t good anymore-“ she held her stomach and Connie and Jean sighed.

“You get her left, I’ll get her right, and we will both lift together” Jean placed an arm under Y/N’s armpits and guided her up from her spot on the grass, with Connie’s assistance. They all piled into Connie's car, which Jean was glad they decided to take instead of his as he was a much older model and in rough condition anyway. Connie was also the most sober out of them all (surprisingly) so he drove. (author note: don't drink and drive guys. I do not condone it and will find you and break your knees if you do /lh/jk)

When they pulled into Y/N and Sasha’s apartment complex, Jean and Connie helped Y/N out of the car, with Sasha climbing out behind her. The alcohol had kicked into full force by that point, and Y/N practically didn't assist them as they helped walk her towards the stairs leading up to her apartment.

“What is Y/N’s apartment number again?” Connie asked

“Hm- um Number Five,” Sasha remembered when Y/N first moved into her apartment. “I know there was something I was supposed to remember…” Sasha said as she walked up the stairs first, holding onto the railing and helping to guide Y/N up.

“It’ll come to you eventually-” Jean assured the brown-haired girl as they climbed up the stairs. Surprisingly, Y/N’s legs moved while they were going up the stairs, with her helping them and making it easier, however when they got to the top, she slumped back in their arms and both boys sighed.

“Is this the apartment?” Jean pointed to the Apartment with the 5 over the door, and Sasha gave a nod. He could see the lights were on and was not about to go searching through Y/N’s purse for her keys, so he opted to knock on the door, hoping her roommate would come to the door. And sure enough, he heard the door lock, and unlock, and a figure open the door- though he was quickly surprised when he locked eye to eye with a familiar face.

“P-Professor Zoë!?” Jean could feel the alcohol exit his system as he was face to face with his Biological Psychology professor. “W-We must have the wrong door…” He turned to Sasha, hoping that was the case, however Sasha, in her still half-drunken state, snapped her fingers.

“Oh yeah… that's what I was supposed to remember…” She said as she looked to Hange. “She told me not to tell you…”

“Bring her inside” Hange sighed, ignoring the situation for now. This was bad for them- another student figuring out that Y/N and they were roommates- especially one of their students. It had been one thing when it had just been Sasha, as she wasn't in any of their classes, but Jean was, and he was in the same class as Y/N. However, Hange couldn't exactly worry about that when Y/N was slung across Jean and Connie's shoulder with them holding her up “I told you not to drink too much Y/N.” They scolded gently as they took Connie’s place and leaned most of Y/N’s weight onto them, guiding her over to the Sofa for now.

“In all honesty- she didn’t. The alcohol was just… stronger than we thought it would be “ Connie intervened as he took a step back.

“Frat party?” They asked and all three of the students nodded. “Yeah, I can get why you thought it would be shitty. Well good on them for not watering it down, but now Y/N is forced to suffer the consequences-” Y/N was lying on the couch, her face flushed red and hair messily surrounding her face.

“Professor Zoë? What's going on?” Hange sighed and turned to Jean now

Hange wasn't sure whether they should give the full truth, or lie. Somehow Lying seemed like the worse option of the two. “Me and Y/N are… currently living with one another-” They forced out of themselves.

“Are you two-” Jean started but Hange cut him off.

“No. We are not… with one another.” They gritted out. Why was that the immediate assumption? “We can talk about this another day. Right now, I think it's important to get some water in Y/N’s system so she can flush the alcohol out of it and get her to bed.”

“Can you handle it from here? We still need to get Sash home-”

“Yeah, I've got it from here…” Connie and Jean gave Y/N one last look before they turned to Sasha, and started guiding her out the door to take her home. Hange watched from the door frame as the boys made sure Sasha got inside her apartment, locked the door, and then left. After they had left, Hange closed their apartment door and turned to Y/N. “Alright, let's get you to bed.”

“Bed?” She mumbled out, with a small slur in her words. They would be surprised if she remembered anything of this night tomorrow morning.

“Yes, bed.” They went to the kitchen quickly to fill up a glass of water and then went into her room to turn on the light and set the glass of water on her nightstand before returning to the living room for her. When they entered the living room again, she was sitting up, though still a little slouched against the backrest of the couch. Hange walked towards her and wrapped their arm around her waist as they helped her up.

Y/N lifted her arm to fling it around their shoulders, clutching onto their shirt. They helped guide her to her room and laid her down on her bed. They wished they could make her more comfortable, though they were not about to start undressing her and putting her in her sleepwear.

They did let her drink some of her water before she officially rested her head on her pillow, earning a small: “Hm. Thank you Hange…” At least she knew it was them. As they turned to walk away and turn off her light, Y/N grabbed onto the tail end of tier shirt, causing them to turn around. “Wait- can you… can you just lay down with me?”

“I shouldn’t.” They gently removed their shirt from Y/N’s hands but replaced it with their hand. Her hands were so soft to them, that they genuinely wondered how anyone in the world could be so perfect.

“You could… I think you should.”

“You do?” They chuckled and sat at the edge of her bed, the bed dipping a little under their weight. They still held onto her hand, as they thought of how cute she was.

“Mhm.” Y/N nodded her head the best she could in her pillow and scooted over in her bed. Hange sighed at the antic, but eventually gave in, laying beside Y/N.

“Fine. I'm only staying until you fall asleep though.” Y/N hummed in response and Hange finally said “Good Night Y/N.”

“Good night Hange.”

Hange tried to stay awake like they had promised themself they would. Tried to keep their eyes open, as they listened to Y/N’s breathing slow down and her light snores. It reminded them of ASMR, sometimes when they had too much on their mind they would put on ASMR in the background to fall asleep. That, combined with the sweet scent of Y/N and her comfortable bed contributed to their downfall, as they closed their eyes and fell asleep with Y/N.

They wish they could say they regretted it, but they couldn't.

══✿══╡°˖✧✿✧˖°╞══✿══

Author’s Note: Thanks so much for reading! I also drew a little picture of the Rabbit salt and pepper shakers cause they are important to the story. To those of you who are from AO3; welcome to my tumblr profile 😭👍

[betweenthings2]

reversed little spoon & big spoon (the one who is normally the big spoon is the little spoon and vice versa)

please 😭

Thank you so much for the ask!! The prompt list is here if anyone else wants to see it =)

Physical affection prompt 6- reversed little spoon and big spoon

Careful not to disturb him, Matty climbs into bed and presses himself close to George in a mirror image of a position they so often take, his chest against George's back, his arm draped over George's ribs and presses a kiss to his bare shoulder. George barely reacts, just intertwines his fingers with Matty's.

"Love you," Matty murmurs.

In response, George just barely squeezes Matty's hand. Matty supposes that counts as something. It's not nothing. He just hopes George feels as safe and loved as he does when their positions are reversed.

George has been down lately. He won't tell Matty what it is, but he suspects it has something to do with the project that George had been drug into, then has been conveniently reshaped in a way that didn't include George, combined simply with the way the days have gotten shorter and shorter and Matty's own shifting moods. Matty can't help but blame himself a little bit for the way George is feeling now. He knows he can't blame himself for George's feelings, just like George shouldn't blame himself for Matty's when the reverse of happens, but he does a little bit. They're so connected, Matty and George. They're partners in everything, connected in everything, of course their emotions, especially the less positive ones, are connected to.

George is asleep before Matty is really done thinking. He'd like to talk, like to have a conversation. He'd like to hear what's on George's mind, how he's feeling about what he's thinking, like to know if he's write about what's gotten Matty into a mood, but he suspects that he's not going to get that. George is always a little bit quieter than Matty is, more so when he's feeling down. Matty doesn't blame him for that--he gets quieter when he's feeling down, too, but he'd like to know. He hates guessing and he hates being wrong, especially about George.

Matty won't get any answers tonight, though, so he convinces himself to fall asleep, too. He's comfortable and warm and, even if he hasn't been entirely present lately, George is here. Matty knows he'll be here in the morning, too.

When Matty wakes in the morning, it's to a warm and cozy bedroom, sunlight filtering through the sheer curtains over the windows, and George stroking his thumb against the back of Matty's hand. He's feeling better, Matty knows automatically. He can tell from George's small movements, from the way his body moves as he breathes, simply the way he feels. Usually, when George is feeling down, Matty can hardly tell if he's awake or not, but now, he can tell. Matty lets them be still and quiet for a little while, then squeezes George's hand gently to announce that he, too, is awake.

"G'mornin'," George murmurs.

"Hi," Matty responds. "You're feelin' better, aren't you?"

"Yeah," George admits. "Thanks."

Matty hums. "I get all the credit, do I?" he asks. "My bad cooking and amazing cuddling skills?"

"You're not a bad cook," George tries, but it's weak.

Matty laughs and presses a kiss against the point where George's neck and shoulder meet before saying, "You don't have to try to make me feel better, G, I'm good, I'm just glad you're feeling better."

"Me too," George agrees, rolling over so he can face Matty.

He looks better, Matty thinks, more alive. He looks more like himself. Matty's missed that recently. "Love you," he murmurs.

"Love you, too," George echoes, offering a small smile. "Thanks."

Matty frowns slightly. "What for?"

"Being here. It'd be easy, I think, for someone to retreat when I start having a hard time, but you don't. You fill the space I leave and that makes it easier," George explains, careful.

Matty smiles softly at that. "Couldn't do anything else," he murmurs, leaning in for soft kiss. "Couldn't want to."

[wonder-worker]

It is said Elizabeth Woodville retired to Bermondsey Abbey 1487? Did she live humbly at the time of death?

Hi! To get straight to the point - we don't actually know when Elizabeth Woodville took up residence at Bermondsey Abbey. It is popularly claimed by most historians, including her own, that she moved there in 1487, but there is no actual historical evidence to support this date. According to J.L. Laynesmith's newer research, "this tradition [may have arisen] from confusion with the date of the council that Vergil said was the occasion on which her estates were resumed." In reality, Elizabeth could have moved into the abbey in 1487, or sometime in the subsequent years, or close to her death when she was ill and may have wanted to seek treatment. We just don't know.

I'm also personally hesitant to claim that Elizabeth was "retiring", because I'm not quite sure what she was supposed to retire from. For one, as the dowager queen who was mother to the queen consort rather than the King, her position was very anomalous and entirely unique, especially since the King's own mother, Margaret Beaufort, was alive and active. Elizabeth was not stepping back from any role she could have otherwise played, because there was no role or precedent for her to play in the first place; no post-Norman queen had been in a position like this before. Secondly, while several dowager queens and noblewomen had the option of managing their estates during their widowhoods, we know that Elizabeth's dower lands had been transferred to her daughter in May 1487*. So, considering she lacked both options traditionally available to dower queens (the role of king's mother and major landowner), there was really nothing that Elizabeth could have actively been "retiring" from. Her residence in Bermondsey could have been a retreat of some kind...or could have been a pragmatic living arrangement, a way to give her daughter space to establish herself as England's new queen, or simply a desire for an alternate residence that gave her some privacy when required. Or something else altogether. Once again, it's unclear.

(It's clear that Elizabeth would have had a visible and direct - although probably informal, as was typical - role in governance during her own son's minority and reign, as described here).

We also don't even know if Elizabeth resided in Bermondsey Abbey permanently. For example, in July 1486, we know she leased a mansion within Westminster Abbey called 'Cheyne gate'. Arlene Okerlund believes this is proof of her religious commitment and desire for seclusion, but as Susan Higginbotham pointed out, Elizabeth could have simply been "interested in obtaining a residence convenient to the court when it was at Westminster". We don't know if Elizabeth ever even stayed at this residence, and if she did, we know for a fact that it was temporary, because she ended her life in an entirely different abbey. In my opinion, the same logic and same questions can and should be applied to Elizabeth's stay in Bermondsey. It's entirely possible she had other residences she was living in, or even a place at court, that we simply don't know about, due to a lack of surviving evidence and/or a lack of sufficient research.

What I want to point out is that Elizabeth very much was present for at least some court occasions in the years after 1485. She took a central role in the christening of the dynasty's new heir, Arthur, standing as his godmother and presenting him with a 'rich cup of gold'. (She took precedence over the king's relatives, including his mother Margaret Beaufort, who doesn't even seem to have been present for the occasion). She was present during her daughter's childbirth confinement and received the Luxemburg delegation. She was also recorded attending mass and receiving papal envoys along with her daughter, son-in-law and Margaret Beaufort in 1489. We also know that Elizabeth was considered as a potential wife for James III of Scotland, which would enable her to possibly again take up the role of queen consort once again, though his death in June 1488 prevented this from potentially materializing (it was by no means guaranteed, though*). So, whether or not she was residing in an abbey or somewhere else or alternating between different residences, it's clear that Elizabeth remained firmly connected to court. She may have been with the royal family on other unrecorded occasions, such as the time when Henry VII ordered the Exchequer to pay her some money "by way of reward for a tun of wine" in 1488 from Windsor Castle. We don't know - but the possibility is very much there.

This is getting into more speculative territory, but another thing to point out is that according to the Colchester journal, Elizabeth had originally petitioned parliament for restoration of her “castells and oder possessions that she was possessed of in King Edward’s day" in 1485. According to Lynda Pidgeon, this was initially turned down, although it was later confirmed that she ‘shall have and enjoy henceforth all such estate, dignity, pre-eminence and name as she should or might have had or done if no act of parliament had been made against or concerning her in the time of Richard III'. It seems to me that Elizabeth may have originally had very different intentions and expectations for her widowhood: she seems to have initially wanted to retain her own lands and administer her estates by herself, which was her right as dowager queen. It suggests that her priorities may have either changed over the years or were forced to change due to external circumstances (the financial constraints in the early years of Henry VII's reign, Simnel rebellion in 1487 which threatened her family, etc). It's unclear.

Lastly, it's often claimed that Elizabeth had "cultivated a lifestyle of comparative simplicity" (Laynesmith) by the time of her death. While we don't know this for sure, I think it's very plausible: she explicitly specified she owned very few goods in 1492, requested for a modest funeral that surprised the herald recording it, and wrote a very short and simple will in contrast to the elaborate ones of, say, Margaret Beaufort and Cecily Neville. But if this is true, we don't actually know when Elizabeth's decision for such a lifestyle came about, let alone what actually prompted it. Was it directly after 1485 (very unlikely, based on what I mentioned above regarding her petition)? Was it over the years due to now-unknown reasons? Or was it simply because Elizabeth was nearing her death, and this was her way of expressing acceptance/closure/penance? Once again, we simply don't know. There could be other reasons for her requesting a simple funeral as well - if she truly died of the plague (which seems likely), she may have wanted to avoid exposing her family to contagion. We can't presume to know her motivations.

Obviously, I dislike the popular idea that Elizabeth plotted against Henry VII and her own daughter and was subsequently banished for it. (This isn't limited to Yorkists/Ricardians but the vast majority of general histories, the vast majority Tudor historians - including ones I admire greatly like Lucy Wooding - and the most academic of Elizabeth's own biographies till date***). But I equally dislike the revisionist interpretation that she entered into a "quiet retirement" or "relative seclusion" post-1487 that Arlene Okerlund and the latest Fifteenth Century XX book are so keen to propagate, usually with exaggerated claims that she was "beyond conventionally religious" (there is no evidence of this). Like I said, we don't know when Elizabeth began residing in Bermondsey, we don't know why, and we don't know if it can even be called a "retirement". It's as much a stereotypical interpretation as the vilified one, and ultimately contributes to the exact same narrative - Elizabeth is conveniently shoved or nudged out of the way, forgotten and irrelevant until her death in 1492. It's just so disingenuous when you keep in mind that she initially wished to administer her estates and that she remained connected to the court. This is aided by the fact that analyses of Elizabeth during this time almost always focus on Henry VII and his circumstances rather than her circumstances or what she might have thought or wanted (see: her unique role as queen who was mother of the queen who lacked estates, etc), and it's...incredibly frustrating. I think historians just need to get comfortable admitting that we know significantly less about Elizabeth's life than we think, and that what we do know is incredibly haphazard and can't really be used to form definite conclusions on most things. Analyses of all aspects of her career have been hindered by their utter unwillingness to acknowledge this.

*We don't know what Elizabeth felt about the transfer of her estates, or her proposed marriage to James III, or the annuity she received from Henry (which was initially lesser than the 700 marks she received from Richard III in 1484, despite her degraded status from queen to the king's concubine with illegitimate children during Richard's reign, though it was also very understandable given the financial difficulties in Henry VII's early years). She may have agreed to them, she may have been prompted/pressured to agree by circumstances or by others, or she may have suggested/initiated some of these things herself. We do know, however, that she remained close to Elizabeth of York and appointed her as supervisor of her will when she died – so I personally think she would have wanted to support her daughter. At the very least, interpretations should keep their closeness in mind. **According to David Baldwin, the proposed marriage was supposedly mooted as early as 1486, before the Simnel Rebellion. The sources he provides are: Rotuli Scotiae, ed. D. Macpherson et al., 2 vols. (1814–19), ii, pp. 475–7. ***Beyond this one instance, I find it incredibly frustrating and ignorant/disingenuous in general when people try to downplay how widespread Elizabeth's negative image really is by claiming it's "only" propagated by the Yorkist/Ricardian community. I can assure you it's far more widespread than that and is used by most general/popular histories and historical fiction of the 15th century, regardless of which "side" they're on (also, there's an assumption that because most Ricardians hate Elizabeth, the opposite is true and that criticisms of Richard lead to sympathy for Elizabeth; but the reality is that the vast majority of histories and fictional works that critique Richard are equally critical of the Woodvilles). That's not even getting into how there are literally no actual reassessments on pretty much all important and controversial aspects of Elizabeth's life till date: her position as the first post-Norman Englishwoman to be crowned queen and what that actually meant for her on practical terms, her family's role in the factional conflict/divide in the 1460s (revisionist histories pretty much always dismiss it outright, which makes no sense as it very much happened and needs to be properly explored and dealt with rather than ignored), her highly unconventional position in royal councils, her role in 1483, the propaganda against her and the many unprecedented official accusations levelled against her, etc. As I said before, there is very lacking academic interest in Elizabeth's individual life beyond the bare basics, be it in popular vilified interpretations or more limited "revisionist" histories. That's completely fine, no one needs to or should should force themselves to study her, but people have got to stop simultaneously pretending that she has been adequately reassessed when she very much hasn't been. (ie: you can't "debunk" something you haven't even acknowledged in the first place, lol). Nothing that has been written about Elizabeth till date has ever come close to the excellent and genuinely revisionist analyses that have explored and/or vindicated several other "controversial" post-Norman queens of England (Empress Matilda, Eleanor of Aquitaine, Isabella of France, Margaret of Anjou, Anne Boleyn, etc) sans only Isabella of Angouleme. People need to stop claiming the opposite and start acknowledging reality.

[aspecpplarebeautiful]

As an aroace I always wondered how it feels to be "in love" and how I realize if I am in love. I never had been or just didn't realized it but it happened that people started to tell me I would be and when I tried dating I realized pretty fast this wasn't the case and I was just feeling uncomfortable.

Since then I've been asking myself how do I know? Everytime I try to google how it feels like I just find how it feels for people who aren't on the a-spec. This is starting to drive me crazy. Especially because I'm almost 30 and everyone starts to tell me how I have to hurry and find a partner otherwise my life will be miserable because I don't have a partner and children. But what if I don't want that?

Right now I'm only putting so much preassure on myself because I'm scared of being alone later on even if I know I don't need or want such a relationship. For me it would be more than enough to live in a platonic houshold like a shared flat. All that is important for me is to have people around with whom I can talk to and spend some time with but also hide in my room alone if needed.

Yeah I don't want to live completely alone but I also don't want such a relationship and most of all I don't want kids. Just give me friends I can move in with and I'm happy.

Thinking about living with someone and have to spend 24/7 with them makes me feel so uncomfortable. I need my own space, my own room where I can go to for some me-time. I don't want to share EVERYTHING with another person and have no place to be able to retreat every now and then. It already makes me so uncomfortable when I see my parents and thinking about that this apparently is supposed to be my future. They have not a single room to themself, they have to share their bedroom, the living room, just everything and always have to make compromises how they want to set up the rooms and do stuff.

Don't get me wrong. I'm fine with doing that but again give me at least one room that's only mine and where I can do whatever and how ever I want to do things without taking another person into account and asking if this is okay with them. And I also want to make my own plans without having to ask another person first if it's okay all the time.

Sorry for the long text I just needed to rant because this bothers me for years now and it just don't seem to get better but worse and I'm sure I'm not the only one who has this problem.

In love can mean different things to different people, and it can feel differently too. I would say anyone or anything you care deeply about you can consider yourself to be in love, but this is also a term you can define for yourself. Being in love is also not something you have to experience or you have to want, some people never feel like they're in love, and that's OK too. I always feel like that ability to choose and define things for ourselves is a big part of the a-spec experience. And it can make things more difficult, but it can also be more fulfilling in the long run.

Not finding a partner by a certain age doesn't mean you're destined to be lonely or miserable. And some of the things you mention like wanting your own room/space or liking the idea of living with friends are definitely things I've heard other aros say they like too. This isn't an impossible situation, though it does involve finding your people, but people who want similar things do exist.

It sounds like you've been under a lot of pressure to fit a certain mold, or live your life a certain way. That can definitely be difficult, but know you're not alone. And that you're allowed to live your life in whatever way you feel works for you.

All the best, Anon! Take care!

[youroomwasquare]

Hey just wanna pop into your inbox and say: I think your analysis for Marcy really understands the core of Amphibia's theme (change) and the basis of Marcy's arc. I could nitpick with small details I don't agree with (saying that Marcy doesn't have confidence issues (Marcy tends to overcompensate thus coming off as confident but really they're a scared kid) or Marcy doesn't have control issues (Marcy has control issues in the sense that they did feel the need to drag their friends into another dimension (those these control issues do mostly come from a lack of agency in Marcy's life)) but honestly the core of the analysis is spot on. You entirely understood exactly why Marcy's arc went like it did! And I really liked you pointing out in your response to an ask about it that escapism is not inherently bad rather how much we let it take over our life is when it becomes an issue!

It was really refreshing to see someone take a look at the end of Amphibia, and realize that it really did do Marcy justice and personally I feel that it does justice to people who have those same issues in life AS Marcy. Showing us that change will happen showing us that we will never be alone even if there is physical distance even if our relationships change even if things change that doesn't mean that life is over. The end of Amphibia I feel like a is a love letter to the fact that life is not stagnant, change is not an ending it's just a new chapter. And we see Marcy after the time skip have that agency in a world that isn't Amphibia by Marcy CHOOSING what they want to do in life. Hell we see that set up for that agency when Marcy rejects the CORE. Marcy finds healthy coping mechanisms Marcy finds a way to indulge in fantasy that isn't being consumed (or assimilated). It's something that's so wholly them how can you possibly be upset that that's what they did with their life! It's looking kids like Marcy in the eyes and saying "things get better. Throwing your life into fantasy will not save you from change but that does not mean you are doomed."

Marcy's sort of "unfinished arc" is a beautiful love letter to growing up. Just like how Anne and Sasha's arcs are love letters to growing up in their own ways.

I just wanted to say thank you for such a refreshing take :]

this is so 🥺🥺. THANK YOU SO MUCH!! I read your message and was on cloud nine the entire rest of the day, this message warmed my heart SO MUCH. aaaa I cannot thank you enough for connecting with it and sending such a lovely piece of writing in response :,) looking back on my analysis, I do agree that some of my points were a bit off ahaha. especially the point I made where marcy was 100% self confident in herself.. oof. during her stay in amphibia, while marcy DID grow into herself, and was truly able to see the extent of her skills and knowledge, she still had a ways to go when it came to other aspects outside of her intelligence. and you brought up a very good point, in that marcy does tend to overcompensate in order to be well liked!! but I've never even thought of the idea that marcy could have control issues. and I love this point!! you're SO right-- marcy had a lack of control when it came to what she truly wanted, so sending them to amphibia was her way of trying to gain back control & not feel extremely helpless. agh, I love how all the girl's issues seem to bleed into one another. I'll definitely think more about this, thank you for the amphibia brain food :) your whole last paragraph, yes, this, exactly. marcy's journey IS a love letter to all those like her-- kids who are (or have been) terrified of all the change that comes with growing up. kids who retreat back into their safe spaces-- the things they've known their entire lives-- for comfort amidst all the turbulent times. kids who will eventually learn, through one way or another, that change will always be present. but that it doesn't have to be a bad thing!! "even if things change that doesn't mean that life is over"-- this, to me, perfectly encapsulates the entire message of amphibia. the epilogue showed that life goes on. amphibia healed-- the amphibians healed, grew into themselves, and finally got the chance to live the lives they wanted to. amphibia honored the impact the girls made on them, and mourned their absence (and still mourn in some ways). but they still kept living. and they still carry all the memories, experiences, lessons, and love as well. the girls continued to live as well-- and they still honor amphibia in their own ways. we see it so much in the epilogue!! to me, it shows that nothing truly ends-- even worlds apart, they all still live on and still continue to love and still let new people in, and are able to let them go if needed. because of that experience they all shared together-- they all still trickle into every friendship, relationship, and connection the others have.

***

the girls learned through their experiences in amphibia that change IS scary. and that it's okay to acknowledge that. and that there are so many people going through the same thing as them. and in that way, they will always have a connection. the girls are not connected forever because of their experiences in amphibia-- amphibia ended. what they are connected by though, is the fact that they will always have a place in each other's lives. and the love that radiates out of all of them-- for each other, and for their friendship as a whole.

"The end of Amphibia I feel like a is a love letter to the fact that life is not stagnant, change is not an ending it's just a new chapter"-- I COMPLETELY AGREE WITH THIS!! and it's actually how I view the marcy from the end of the show. one of the beauties of marcy's unfinished arc is that marcy now has all of the time in the world to choose who she wants to be and what she wants to do with her life. she has so many lessons to learn, people to meet, tears (both happy and sad) to shed, smiles to make and love to share. amphibia may have ended, but for marcy-- it's a whole new beginning. the possibilities are so endless.. and that's such a good feeling!!

growing up is hard to do. we see that all the time in media, reflected in our own experiences of growing up. I'm so happy the calamity trio exists. I relate to them so much already-- I cannot wait to see the ways I'll continue to relate to them as I keep growing.

[coconuttz]

pov: you’re a (fashion) student without a support system ♡

ik it can be daunting to build a support system when you have no one... especially when you’re surrounded by a sea of creativity and talent and a culture of pride in doing everything alone (ifyky, no shade); but don’t fret, because I’m here to share how to build that support network from the ground up, just like I had to do. it can be overwhelming asf but it’s totally possible! here are some strategies (this is what i did in the midst of a massive depressive episode) ☺️✨

listen linda, i was a social butterfly. i say this because when i'm depressed i retreat if i can find an escape. we live in a day and age where your whole life can be remote/digital if you want it to be (thx to a remote job, online school, zoom calls with friends if u even see them). imo it can be a sustainable lifestyle for a suprisingly long time... till it's not. i digress.

it’s okay to start alone. being a lone wolf gives you the freedom to explore your style and interests without the influence of others. it can be lonely, sure, but i can be freeing. in my vulnerable moments where i felt alone but was authentic, i attracted ppl who mean the world to me today. so know being alone is temporary. or at least, try to tell your brain that. better yet, don't try; tell yourself this every day:

♡ My authenticity will draw in those who appreciate me for who I truly am.

♡ I am enough, even when I am alone.

♡ In my own space, I can discover who I am without distractions.

♡ I am resilient; I can navigate through the quiet moments.

♡ I attract the right people into my life.

♡ Even in solitude, I have the strength to thrive and emerge stronger.

♡ My alone time is sacred and necessary.

♡ I believe in my ability to build a supportive community.

♡ I give myself permission to feel and to heal.

Each phase of life has its purpose, and I trust that my time will come.

♡ tip #1: touch grass later. for now, get online. find other fashion students who *inspire* you. whose values align with theirs and their content makes you feel good. don't follow people just because they work in fashion-- look for peers, who are studying as well. peers are so important to have through every stage of life <3 follow fashion students and i recommend actual professionals who inspire you. not fashion influencers necessarily, but people who work in fashion professionally, maybe they're a designer or art direct or magazine editor. these folks to to have content that's inspiring and motivating! survey for yourself, you have to be careful what you feed your brain without even realizing it! anyways, engaging with their content in meaningful ways can lead to conversations, friendships, ++ even mentorships. don’t be shy about reaching out when/if you're ready. if you don't want to, thats ok too!

♡ tip #2: most fashion programs offer various resources like internship apps and networks (like a school handshake!) or apprenticeshhip, workstudy, study abroad etc. programs or workshops! follow your school on social media, they usually will have "career service" pages with rly great resources, and updates about networking events, etc. don’t hesitate to ask your professors for recommendations or support; they want you to do well! even if it feels awkward at first, getting involved in school activities is a great way to meet fellow students and form connections.

♡ tip #3: if you’re feeling brave, team up with fellow students for projects or study sessions. you can share ideas, critique each other’s work, collab on a pinterest board (lol) or just vent about a new yt video analysis video that xyz put up. plus, who doesn’t love a little fashion school brainstorming with (new) friends over coffee? speaking of, i'm gonna go make coffee. i have a problem. when i hear it, or even see this emoji ---> ☕️ i want one. brb.

ok, i'm out of coffee :( i made tea instead. but i still smell coffee. can anyone relate ??

♡ tip #4: if you're hesitant about reaching out directly, you can create opportunities for others with your shared interests to come to you. how? by sharing your own experiences and projects. you can post your work in communities like behance or github (to decide, to research on your industry, your niche, etc. and pick what works best for you! educate yourself in what's the latest in the industry, what's popular, make a pros and cons list. like actually take time to decide if u can! that way you don't have to migrate everything over to another platform later.

ok so for example, if you’re working on a design project, that could mean taking a course, or attending a fashion event, or you could share a post about it. one tip that's often used in marketing in general is to include a reflection or question that invites others to comment such as:

"Just wrapped up my latest fashion design project using 3D modeling software! Has anyone else tried CLO 3D? I’d love to hear your thoughts on digital fashion design!"

open ended questions like this when you share your work, an opinion, blog post, etc.makes it easier for others in the industry to connect with you and offer advice without you needing to initiate.

these are just a few tips for building a support system of you're shy, don't know where to start, are taking classes online and have a hard time meeting ppl, are depressed and everything's hard in general, etc. <3 keep your head up

till next time. my tea is ready.