#I realised I only thought this was my pinned post and in fact I had dreamed of doing it

[elizabethrobertajones]

Can I recommend my series of novels about very silly teenagers getting into nonsense with fairies and gods and mythological beings around their cutesy little town?

What is coming of age for if not dealing with the Immortal Boyfriend Age Gap quandary, discovering you are really into giant horned deer gods, being a cursed teenage witch with a crush on your new bestie, or being the friend who saw it all coming months in advance?

[jadeylovesmarvelxo]

Back to You 💌

You and Eddie used to be friends, the best of friends since meeting during childhood. Now your friendship is in tatters and Eddie hates you? Right?

Enemies to lovers fic, childhood friends, idiots in love, protective Eddie, minors shoo.

Eddie Munson x Reader

Brief Billy Hargrove x Reader

If you have any requests send me an ask 💌 make sure to read my request rules on my pinned post 💞 💌

🎀

You remembered the day you and Eddie stopped speaking like it was yesterday.

Exactly a year ago you auditioned for the cheerleading squad and made the team, you were so excited and rushed to tell Eddie.

He was actually supportive of you joining the squad but the thing he didn't like was your new friends. They thought Eddie was a freak and Eddie hated the lot of them with a passion.

No matter how you tried to make it work the distance grew between you both and culminated in a final argument that the two of you never recovered from.

It was now your senior year and the bond between you and Eddie was still shattered, he became more ensconced in his group of friends and in Hellfire Club and you settled nicely with your friends.

Animosity hung between you both and more often than not it led to the two of you bickering. It was like the two of you were never friends at all.

The thought makes your stomach clench and your throat tighten. For as much as you pretended to despise Eddie, it couldn't hide the fact that you missed him, the little ache never really went away.

Though you had no doubt that Eddie didn't care one about you anymore and that sends a wave of hurt through you. There was only so much that icy glares and mean barbs could hide.

Speak of the devil. Eddie stops talking to the rest of Hellfire and glares at you, there's a stubborn frown on his face that turns into a smirk.

"Staring at me again sweetheart? Anyone would think you were into me" he looks so smug and you clench your fists, remind yourself to count to three before you engage in his shit.

"As if Munson, Your voice carries across the cafeteria. Not everyone wants to hear your delusional rants you know" Eddie's eyes narrow and he folds his arms across his chest, his gaze pins you to the spot.

The rest of Hellfire looks back and forth between the two of you. You and Eddie both argued so much you were sure it must be entertainment for his friends.

Gareth and Jeff used to be your friends too a tiny traitor voice whispers to you and you swallow down the fact that you miss them too.

"Why don't you go back to your table and continue being a bitchy, vapid princess yeah?" God you hated him, you really did.

You give him one final dirty look and don't give him the satisfaction of seeing the words have upset you. It's not like he would care if they did.

He stopped caring about you a long time ago.

...

Parties really weren't your thing at all but this was the third one that Jason invited you to in two months so you figured you better show your face for a little bit.

As soon as you enter the party you wish you could turn around and go back home. The only saving grace is Chrissy who tucks you by her side and takes away some of the anxiety you're feeling.

Eddie is here because of course he is. No doubt he's selling weed, you'd give him shit for it but you know that he does it to help his uncle with money. How could you give him shit for that?

You're pulled out of your musings by a gentle tug on your hair and you turn to find Eddie behind you with a shit eating grin on his face.

"Did you just pull my hair, what are we five again Edward?" His eyes light up and he smiles at you, all dimples and mischievous.

"I love when you're angry princess. It's kinda hot" you still and his words disarm you for a minute. Only a minute.

"Hot? As if you would sully your precious reputation by dating one of them and I quote "Buttheads from the dark side" he was just doing this to rile you up and it was working.

He doesn't answer and you realise your heart is racing waiting for him to say something. A tiny bit of disappointment fills you but you choose to ignore it and storm past him.

Maybe you would be able to enjoy the party if you could just avoid Eddie but then you see one person who you work hard to never see at all costs. Someone worse than running into Eddie.

Billy Hargrove, surrounded by people as he chugged from a keg of beer.

Ugh. Seeing Billy was enough to annoy you at the best of times but this? Drunk Billy was a whole level of irritating. The two of you briefly dated last year and it was nice at first, until he cheated on you with some girl from another school outside of Hawkins and you found them at the cinema making out with not a care in the world.

What the hell did he want? "Hey babe, fancy seeing you here?" he smirks and walks over to you, swiftly blocking your way out. Fuck.

"Hargrove. Move your ass from my sight will you?" you snap, you're already verging on getting a headache, talking to him will just make it worse.

"Such harsh words honey. I mean last year you were all over me and now this?" You wince as you remember being really into Billy, god you were an idiot.

"Temporary insanity" you snap and he grins and leans close to you.

"Oh honey, it's your fault if you think you meant anything to me in the first place" fury curdles in your stomach. Asshole.

"Is there a problem here?" you freeze and let out a groan. Oh great. Just who you need to appear, Eddie.

His eyes are narrowed as he looks at Billy who smirks and moves past Eddie. "Nah Munson, just catching up with an old friend" he winks at you and you turn away still fuming and your eyes wet. Ah fuck.

"Dickhead, Eddie mutters and his glare turns to you but softens just slightly at your tears, "What the fuck did you see in him princess?" He demands and you shrug.

"No idea. He is a dick" it startles you that both you and Eddie are in agreement. You wipe your eyes and Eddie's fist clenches.

"You shouldn't cry over him princess" he tells you and his voice is still gentle. You peer up at him and feel that pull towards him, the pull that never really went away.

"Like you can talk Munson" Eddie's eyes widen and he stiffens when you say this and his gaze turns agonized.

"I never want to make you cry sweetheart" he swallows hard and still looks bereft. You can't stand seeing that look on his face.

"It only happened once" you shrug it off but it still doesn't clear that look from Eddie's face. He follows you as you need outside, trying to think of something to say to him.

Then the heavens open and rain begins to beat down on you both.

"Uh shit. Do you want me to take you home or something?" You shake your head at Eddie's suggestion, it's sweet but your parents aren't home tonight, you were meant to be staying with one of the girls.

"They aren't home. I'm supposed to be staying with one of the girls but I just want to get away from this shit for a night" Eddie nods and opens his van door for you.

"Then milady. To my castle I shall take you" you hadn't been back to Eddie's in such a long time but right now it was all you wanted and you gesture at him to lead the way.

Billy's words still echo in your mind as eddie drives. You thought you meant something to Billy last year but your hopes were quickly dashed. Your hopes of maybe finding someone who could love you for you were smashed to pieces.

If you were being honest with yourself the one person who you thought you would end up with was Eddie, when you were friends the thought would sometimes enter your mind. A far off future after high school where you and Eddie were happy and in love.

Obviously that went to shit too. You weren't Eddie's type. You had seen the girls he hooked up with occasionally and they were nothing like you, now it didn't matter because he hated you.

This makes your mood worse, just a bit. Then again if he hated you why was he being so kind to you right now?

You ask him as he leads you into the trailer, the question won't leave your mind and you need to ask.

"Eddie why are you doing this? You hate me don't you?" his eyes widen when you ask this and you flash back to the first time you met Eddie when you were four and he ran off some jerk who tried to steal your sweets in school. He was protective of you, even then.

"Okay uh let's get one thing straight, you can annoy the hell out of me but I could never ever hate you princess" this warms your heart just a little bit.

"Well ditto"

You kiss Eddie's cheek, his heated gaze meets yours and you're so tempted to kiss him. It's an impulsive thought but it's not really all that surprising.

"You want to kiss me" he gently teases and you swat his arm playfully. He really could read you like a book, even now.

"Please, as if. I know I'm not your type anyway. I've seen the girls you've hooked up with" Eddie is quiet for a second and that startles you, he's never quiet. He's always on the go and running his mouth about something or other, usually Jason.

"They didn't mean anything. They weren't you" he says the last part so softly that you have to move closer to hear it but you do. Like magnets the two of you move closer and closer...

Then Eddie's lips meet yours and it's... It's everything. It's perfect. Wayne also picks the perfect time to walk in and you and Eddie break apart.

Wayne smiles when he sees you, "Well hi there honey, haven't seen you around in a long time" it has been a while and you feel an ache deep in your bones. You've missed being here, it's one of the places that feels like home to you.

"I've missed it, being here" you admit to him and Wayne smirks a little bit.

"Mmm, someone else has missed you around here too" he nods to Eddie who glares at him.

"Yeah thanks for that old man" Wayne shrugs looking like he's trying really hard not to laugh and invites you to stay for a little while longer.

When he's busy with setting up some dinner Eddie leans into you and whispers in your ear.

"I do miss you" his voice shakes a tiny bit and his big brown eyes are full of tenderness. It's taken a lot for him to admit it and you take your hand in his.

"Ditto"

💌🎀💓

[alianoralacanta]

Hi Alianora! I am curious to know your thoughts on Ferrari and PR. Particularly how they do damage control. 2022 comes to mind, and this year's triple header as well.

Maybe it's because I don't keep up with other team statements as much but Ferrari seem to be less... transparent?? with their struggles as a team. Binotto in 2022 comes to mind when he would pin the blame on his drivers and say that nothing needs to change.

Also Charles in particular plays the PR game more than Carlos. I mean, this year in China, Charles said the two of them had talked and everything was fine, but then when asked, Carlos said the complete opposite and that they hadn't actually sorted it out. Oops.

I remember specifically Charles saying the team was "extremely united, no division" in 2022 but then multiple statements of his in 2023 under Vasseur imply otherwise.

Ferrari seem to be more willing to throw their drivers under the bus when shit hits the fan and it's more clear that the team messed up big time. Vasseur will have no problem defending Charles in weekends where Ferrari aren't a complete disaster, but in situations like the triple header, he's willing to shift the focus on the drivers.

Is it a Ferrari pride sort of thing?

Ferrari and PR

Firstly, apologies for the long delay in replying. This is my 3rd attempt at finding a coherent frame for my thoughts on the subject. I hope this works. If it does not, please request clarification, reframing or simply to have another attempt.

Also, fair warning: long essay. This essay is 6060 words long, excluding headings. As such, it will be divided into multiple “read more” sections. Tumblr only allows this by posting the essay multiple times, with a fresh addition each time. Please wait for the “Essay complete. Hope this helps” before reblogging. Firstly, PR is not a monolith. Humanity is not a monolith with one unified opinion of what everything is and how everything works. They agree and disagree on what is appealing in a statement made to them on a given subject. Thus, PR can and often is tailored to particular audiences. Furthermore, different groups that produce PR value different things. Section 1: What does Ferrari value? (Ferrari myth PR)

Ferrari has been stricter about PR than any other team. Part of this originated with Enzo Ferrari himself, for he was careful to ensure that nothing was said that undermined Ferrari's political position or offended his sense of what the speaker's job should be (driver or engineer). It has to be said that this didn't put the boundaries in the same place as any modern team's PR approach. While complaining about the team or car being slow was considered just as wrong then as now, a driver saying they'd been cautious because the race was long would also be considered bad. Enzo considered it his job to worry about the car, and the driver's job to press the car as hard as possible. (An engineer who suggested putting less emphasis on the engine in favour of the chassis would fare no better). On the other hand, skipping a sponsor event to go kart would probably meet with his approval. (Whether he would have regarded Max's sim racing as similar enough to treat likewise is unknown, since race driving software wasn't very sophisticated in the 1980s). Later in Enzo Ferrari's career, there began to be more emphasis on Ferrari the myth. Niki Lauda was not particularly appreciated while he was at Ferrari because his approach was so different from Enzo's ideal, but Niki became far more appreciated after that because Enzo realised what he'd done had, in fact, resulted in Ferrari's myth strengthening. (The title did no harm either). Gilles Villeneuve encapsulated what it meant to augment the Ferrari myth. The intervening decades ended up condensing the traits that became part of "Ferrari myth PR": - humble and modest - fast - respectful of opponents - downplaying team psuedopolitics - eloquent and concise when needed - competing with style, verve and boldness - able and willing to do the impossible - believing in the team even when it does not believe in itself - remember one represents a dream - remember that, whatever one's nationality, one represents the honour of the tifosi The price for defying PR in the Enzo Ferrari era was variable and fickle, due to the perennial psuedopolitics behind the scenes. (The situation under Fred Vasseur would have been considered relatively calm back then. Some parts of the Mattia Binotto era, not so much).

[ask-the-no-killing-game-au]

Can I get a recap of what happened in this AU so far? I'm really confused because it seems like *alot* has happened

No art with this one, sorry - I'll be updating this regularly & a link to the post will be in my pinned post so it can be referenced at any time for anyone new to the blog. I recommend reading even if you've followed the story to ensure you have everything clear.

TW - death (both murder and self inflicted).

Near the start of the blog, Veronika tried to stop herself from living. Arturo walked in on this, recognised that she was in extreme pain, and decided to finish the job for her, killing her just as she woke up.

Arturo didn't realise until after this that both Xander and Nico had witnessed the murder as Veronika's door was open. He forced the two of them to keep quiet about it by threatening to kill them if they told anyone.

Eventually, with the fact that dead bodies' conditions get worse & harder to hide overtime, Arturo forced Nico to help dispose of the body while Xander had to stay inside Veronika's room.

In the building where they're staying, there aren't many places to hide a body, if you consider factors such as blood and the smell. Arturo was also in an extremely bad state mentally, so with him not thinking straight, he hosted a dinner that the whole cast (minus Ace, Arei, and David) attended. However, for the food.. instead of serving the food from the kitchen, he instead made the desicion to cook the dead body.

The rest of the cast, totally unaware of what they were eating, all finished the meal together and split up. This wasn't it, though, as Teruko, Levi, and Ace all searched the kitchen, just to find evidence of what happened. They informed the others, which obviously terrified Nico.

Nico, now convinced Arturo would think they told everyone & murder them, spoke to David, who is also dealing with very bad mental health to the point where he can barely move, and convinced him to dress as them, thinking that if Arturo did try to kill them, David would act as a distraction.

What they didn't take into account was that Xander, the other witness of Arturo's murder, also wasn't dealing with the situation well - but instead of hiding and being scared of death, he became the opposite, obsessive over people "getting what they deserve" and serving "punishment" to anyone that did anything "wrong". And because he wasn't aware it was actually Arturo who cooked the food, but he also didn't want to kill Arturo for the murder incase he fought back.. he instead set out to kill Nico.

Xander found Nico in the bathroom and stabbed them from behind, unable to see their face. It was only when they fell to the floor that he recognised their pale yellow eyes as not Nico's but David's, & ran away panicking upon realising he was now just as much of a murderer as Nico, if not more so as Nico was forced to do the cooking. Hu entered the bathroom with Arei and Eden just to find "Nico" dying (not fully dead) on the floor.

... That's where I'm up to right now. Story post later, hopefully. Thank you all for supporting this AU so far <3

Xander panicked when he couldn't stop everyone else from seeing the body, but instead of being sad, it just revealed his true mindset - that he believed David's death was "supposed to happen", and he became fed up of the attention David got for, well.. dying.

To "fix" this, he decided to put the attention on himself by stabbing himself multiple times, in his chest, stomach, and eye. Unfortunately, because he killed David, nobody cared and left him to bleed out in the cafeteria.. except Arei, who swiftly returned, as the situation had also begun to make Eden a worse person, so she felt that she needed friends.

Arei and Xander thought of a way to get attention - that being a motive. Arei was able to get hold of secrets about every single student, and put them through other peoples' doors.

Meanwhile.. Arturo was getting worse, starting to believe things that weren't true, eventually stopping all his memory of being Arturo and fully convincing himself that he's Veronika.

[firefly--bright]

etymology of acting

jean kirstein x reader (modern au)

summary ; the lights are out but you've never been able to see things so clearly. his silhouette isnt just a shape anymore.

warnings ; nothing more than some hurt/comfort as usual

a/n ; i've realised. i like writing oneshots more than i like writing series. so i am very sorry that im not updating my bigger fics i just,,, need more motivation for them.

taglist ; @holding-infinity-and-a-book , @mrsnobodynobody , @hopeless-anti-romantic , @jeanscremebrulee , @berrijam , @happxme , @cherrypieyourface , @imgayandshesanime , @moonmalice , @kivernova , @potaho3frog , @xakilicious , @katestrophes , @gojo-ana , @ppushable

masterlist is in pinned post! ✿ enter my taglist! ✿ song to listen to while reading! ✿

You’ve never really been sure of what you are.

Maybe who you are would be a better question. How do words come to be? Is it the cultural significance that makes them more important or is it just the fact that theyre the most used? You decide your name holds none of the meaning – be it heavy or light – that all the other words do. Not really significant or most used or said or thought about.

You knew your place in the world well enough to know where your name fit. Moreso, how your name didn’t fit, feeling foreign coming from familiar faces, feeling even further away coming from you. it sounded more like of what you should, of who your parents wanted you to become, hope you’d turn out to be. Something far greater than yourself. At least you knew this – you wouldn’t live up to it.

It takes a while to get used to at first. A way to let people down gradually. Nothing dramatic, nothing noticeable; but when you go through the same pattern as you always have countless times, you start seeing it as such. As something more dramatic, to give yourself more meaning. Youre waiting for the moment to come crashing down on you, waiting for the light to stop being bright an consuming and more of just a flicker. But that would be giving yourself too much importance. Giving yourself too much meaning.

“I mean… I didn’t, haven’t, fought people before,” jean says, “or – wait. Maybe I have.”

You breathe out a laugh. “you don’t remember if you’ve fought people before?”

“I mean, its not…whatever. Maybe I was too small to remember.”

“five year old jean, tearing into people’s jaws. What a rebel.” You say. Its his turn to smile.

The marble tiles of your kitchen floor are cool, your thighs resting on them, back against the glass of your oven. He sits in front of you but you cant see more than his outline. The lights have been out for a concerning amount of time now, and the curiosity of wanting to find out why had long since died down, turning into simple acceptance of this nights fate. His voice is the only thing you can hang off from, even if youre anchored to the ground.

it’s the in-betweeness of this. The space between your bodies, though not far away, knees touching only briefly, is when you realize you’re going to fade away soon. He’s going to find it mundane to look at the same face you had been seeing. The light is going to flicker, and you can feel it. The anticipation of something that will undoubtedly hurt nobody but you, quiet and accepting, and you’ll end up having to face the light again; wait for another light that needs to be snuff out. You’ve never been the greatest in having yourself be enough.

It's a performance at first. Jean had sat next to you and you’d started, lights and all. Smiling soon turned to relentless, comfortable teasing, turned into the second act. The deeper feelings that would be kept with you and only you for the rest of whatever you were living. Act three started just as act two did, gradually, softly, and you could sit in silence without having to find the strength to speak something more important than you into existence. You knew what would happen next. The end act, before the bows, before the close curtains. Your name wouldn’t be credited after this, no, he’d leave the theatre and not look back, forgetting why he spent the evening there. Maybe it was necessity, maybe it was boredom.

Act three, scene four, your voice spoke again after the pause, after catching his voice in your hands. The shared can of the energy drink was getting warm because of jean’s hand, your cold ones doing nothing to help. “I used to pretend I was in, like, a tv show when I was five.” You said. A hook to another unimportant, soon forgotten story, but it was in your script. So you spoke. You couldn’t see his smile, but he hummed lowley, your cue to continue.

“there was this show I used to watch a lot, like, to the point where I memorized almost all of the script.” You say, taking a sip of the drink. The carbon had fizzled out, leaving sugary residue on your lips, coating your tongue. “so when the house was empty in the afternoons, I would play all the parts out myself.” You say. Your words carry more weight now than they ever have and you’d probably have to clean up the mess it would make on the floor in the morning, having the light of the sun to accompany your mistakes. But for now it was okay. Improvising your lines was easier when it was with him. Act three, scene four, you could let your performance waver because you knew it was coming to an end.

“Is that why youre so good at talking to yourself?” he asks, his voice laced with a smirk you can almost feel against your cheek, despite him sitting across you. his hand brushes against yours, warm, calling, and you hand the can to him. You roll your eyes and you know he cant see it because it’s improvised. “im an amazing self-talker. Give me some credit.”

“alright. You’ve won my oscar.” He says. You snort. “your oscar?” “for your groundbreaking performance.” He says. Another sip.

You breathe in the way his words shape you. you don’t know which row of the audience he’s sitting in, but it feels awfully close, enough for him to catch you breaking character. Amazing performance, he said, not knowing what he meant, but you took meaning in his comment anyway, just as you did with everything else given to you. all words had their meanings, whether good or bad, cultural or just because of their uses. Everything had meaning and he was calling it an amazing performance. Your laugh makes no noise – youre breaking character.

“I was shit scared of the dark when I was five, too.” He says. The can is still with him, and you tilt your head. “you were a very accomplished five year old.” He scoffs, you continue, “starting fights and being afraid of the dar-“ “as if. I won those fights.” “is that why you forgot they even happened?” “maybe, yeah, what about it?” you laugh, breaking character. He grumbles, “whatever. I was brave.” His chest puffs up in faux confidence.

“right, what were you saying?” you ask. He clears his throat. “I was just gonna say I don’t mind being in the dark now.” “that’s deep.” “can you be serious for, like, two seconds-“ “you know me better than to ask me for that.” “right. I like nights now because of you. That’s all. Make fun of me.” But then you don’t say anything. Breaking character. Being on a thin ledge so he could see you and being pushed back, making you lose balance, suck in a breath.

Act… three, was it? Scene five. You don’t know what to say. He continues where you don’t. “like, I mean – okay, I like working with you at night, and I like staying up with you. it… im not scared of the dark anymore because of you. don’t look too much into it, it’s whatever, don’t. don’t make this weird.” He says, effectively making it weird, but you don’t mind. Youre on the stage, pleasantly confused because jean is in the audience with a smile and not with indifference.

youre on the stage and he’s telling you its okay to not be on one, to break character, to join him in the dark of the seats and leave the bright, overhead spotlight that makes you squint against it’s pressure.

The distant wailing of an ambulance sirens plays somewhere in the distance, the honk of cars, the shout of a crow that was somehow awake, the rustling of leaves. And with everything – all of the things outside of the theatre in your head, making you less important, was jean. There was barely any identifier to know he was in front of you except for his silhouette and his voice that had gone quiet. His thumb played an invisible beat on the can.

“when… when I was five,” you started, finally, not knowing what was coming out of your mouth, not following a script. Act three? Which scene was this? Jean was infront of you. you didn’t know how, but your voice held importance. “I was alone a lot. I used to be scared of ghosts. Especially at night. But since I was alone I decided that I had to fill the space up with games. With plays. Talking to myself.” Because that was the only thing that made you important – tied to the ground -  but then jean’s hand in on your knee, warm. An anchor. The curtains are closing. “and now I have someone to listen to me. Im not one of the ghosts in my house.”

If jean’s eyes were the only pair that were ever to witness you, you’d let that be. You’d be important in the darkness of your house and not under the all-consuming, weighted spotlights on top of you, shining against your every move, making it more important, but then the lights turn on, all of them at once, making you witness how you’ve made him.

His cheeks are red, warm, the tip of his nose in the same shade, his hair now lit up by the overhead shine, creating an almost gold halo on the crown of his head, a little frizzy and messy from raking his hand through them so many times. but really, its his eyes that make you break the character you were trying so hard to keep, because it didn’t make sense that he was looking at you the same way in the dark, going unnoticed, his gaze soft and now highlighted with a small white dot around his pupil, browns swimming, tethered to your figure. He was looking at you without your performance, without the proof of light to guide him.

Breaking character. Remembering there was a character to break but not caring about it, not in this moment, not when the spotlight has shut down, no-body controlling your lines except for yourself and the air in your apartment, still and full of life, unsaid confessions.

He clears his throat, shifting behind, looking up to the light, realising that there was brightness apart from you. “well.” He says. What else is there to say?

“well.” You echo, but neither of  you get up from your seats. There was secrecy in the dark, but now that everything is in front of you, youre a little more afraid. “it’s… lat-“ “you wanna watch a movie?” he asks, interrupting your invitation for him to go back home and away from you despite wanting nothing more than to stay by his side. You smile, unabashedly, cheeks stretching. “yeah.”

“not-“ “ten things I hate about you-“ “no. not that.” He says with a roll of his eyes. He doesn’t get up. His hand is still on your knee. “come on, you liked that movie!” “yeah, for the first two watches. We’ve seen that like, a thousand times now.” “not a thousand. Twenty, maybe.” “close enough.” “which movie, then?” you ask, jean shrugs. He hadn’t thought this far into the moment, and really, he doesn’t mind watching the same movie again as long as you were next to him, letting him sit too close to you, letting your shoulders relax, letting your thoughts ease. He liked you like this, not dancing around yourself, not trying to do something spectacular. You already were.

But he cant say it. So instead he says your name. with purpose, with meaning and weight that anchors you to the ground and brings you back into your body. “youre…not a ghost.” He attempts at something bigger than what he means to say. He doesn’t know how you do it. But you look at him like you know exactly what he means. Words have meaning, culturally or just because they’ve been too much, and you look like you understand them more than anyone else. Reading in between the lines, each letter having its shape and sound being heard even if its quiet.

“thanks to you.” you say. His thumb traces a circle into your skin. Unscripted.

“speaking of ghosts-“ you start, making jean groan. “do not-“ “we should watch conjuri-“ “I will kill myself.” “that’s also what one of the ghosts does to herself.” “jesus fuck.” “come on, its so bad and cliché.” “i… fine.” He concedes.

Your smile is brighter than the lights. It comes naturally to you, the script lies forgotten and you join him in the audience, sitting close.

[drarrypotterrenaissance]

So Good I Could Cry

I saw this post, and knew immediately that I had to write a fic for it. This is my first fic above a T rating, so it was written in one sitting before I could lose my nerve. What follows is the softest, most gentle M-rated fic I think you can find. Additionally, I am very ace, and thought that I was writing Harry as allosexual, until Vukovich told me how much ace Harry came through in this fic, so please take a moment to laugh at my naïvety and then to thank @vukovich for being a wonderful beta reader and for ensuring that I tagged this properly 💜

Words: 1,828 Rating: Mature Summary: There was a tumblr post asking who in your ship cries during sex, and I knew my answer immediately - Harry cries during, and Draco cries afterwards in secret. Read on ao3 here

It’s all so good. Everything has been so good, for months now, that Harry can’t really figure out why it took so long for him to finally ask Draco out. He can’t figure out why multiple years of amazing friendship didn’t turn into dating and kissing sooner, not when it only took him six months to realise that his feelings for Draco weren’t just platonic. He can’t figure out why it took them so long to get here, but he’s beyond glad that they finally have.

Harry’s lost count of how many dates they’ve gone on (although Draco probably knows; he’s obsessive like that, and Harry loves that he knows that about him), or how many times they’ve kissed, or how many scorching looks Draco has given him from the other side of the room. They’ve been taking things slowly, per Draco’s wishes, although Harry hasn’t minded, and has, in fact, been delighted to watch Draco open up to him even more with every dinner and every kiss, like a flower opening so slowly into the morning sun.

Now, though, they’re here, in Harry’s bed with Draco pink-cheeked and sweaty over him, for the very first time. And it’s so good, just like everything else, just like Harry knew it would be, because it’s Draco here with him. Draco’s nerves have dissipated, and he’s radiant, leaning down to kiss Harry, making soft little noises that Harry could listen to forever, beaming and laughing, pressing his eyes shut even as his mouth falls open. There’s a strand of hair that’s come free from its queue, falling alongside Draco’s flushed cheeks, and Harry is overjoyed to watch it sway back and forth, curling up into a gentle ringlet, because that means that Draco must secretly straighten his hair, and Harry knows this now, an intimate little secret to discover even in the midst of this intimate act itself. They’ve been together for so long tonight that Draco’s hair straightening charms have worn off, and he’s comfortable enough with Harry that he hasn’t bothered to refresh them, and now Harry gets to know that there’s a wave to Draco Malfoy’s pin-straight hair, and no one else gets to have that secret.

He reaches a hand up and twirls a finger through Draco’s hair, then cups his face to simply admire him for a moment. Harry doesn’t think that anyone could ever really look attractive during sex. It’s too sweaty and red-faced and slightly gross for anyone to actually look hot the whole way through, but Draco right now is so lovely, so captivatingly beautiful, both for his red-flushed, sweaty face and for how open he is in this moment of vulnerability.

“I love you,” Harry says, before he can stop himself. He’s said it before, a few times, and he’s certain that Draco feels the same way, even if he hasn’t said it back yet. Still, Harry hadn’t wanted to pressure him right now, hadn’t wanted to risk making Draco think that he had to say it back to him at this moment because of everything else. Draco beams, though, and kisses him fiercely, and somewhere in the middle, Harry tips over into ecstasy, coming back to himself moments later with tears wet on his cheeks and more still streaming from his eyes.

They kiss some more after, and then just hold each other close, drifting in and out of sleep for a while. Draco doesn’t say anything about the tears that took a few minutes to stop, although Harry thinks he’d be well within his rights to. Honestly, who cries during sex because their boyfriend secretly has curly hair? Instead, Draco just kisses him, and runs his thumbs under Harry’s eyes to wipe away the tears, and kisses him again while fresh ones appear.

When Harry wakes up an unknown amount of time later, he can still feel the salt, tacky on his cheeks. He passes a hand over his eyes, then scrubs it across his face, before reaching out to pull Draco close to him once more. His hand meets nothing but empty sheets, still warm from Draco’s body, but rapidly cooling. And Harry knows, because he knows Draco, that he’ll be back soon. He hasn’t gone far, nor has he gone for good, and Harry is sure of it even before he sees the light shining from under the ensuite door. If Harry could be patient for two minutes, Draco would surely return to him, eager to reclaim his place next to Harry in their warm bed, and to press his always freezing toes in between Harry’s legs. But Harry’s in love with him, and everything is so good when they’re together, and he doesn’t want to be separated even for the next two minutes, and so he gets up and pads over to the bathroom door, knocking gently to preserve the quiet of the pre-dawn stillness.

“Draco?”

There’s no answer, but Harry can hear the sink running, so he pushes the door open a crack and says Draco’s name again, sees his bare back stiffen slightly at the sound of Harry’s voice. He splashes water on his face once, then turns around with a towel pressed to his cheeks, patting himself dry even as Harry steps into his space and puts his hands gently around Draco’s waist. Draco leans into the touch, but doesn’t respond in kind, continuing to dry his face, the towel now an obstacle, keeping Harry from kissing him like he so desperately wants to. Instead, Harry slips his pinkies into the waistband of the boxers Draco has put back on, and gently smooths his thumbs up and down Draco’s sides.

“Hi,” he says, still making an effort to be quiet for no reason.

“Hello,” Draco whispers back, the towel still obscuring his face and muffing his voice slightly.

“Is everything alright?” Harry gives one of Draco’s hips a gentle squeeze, and Draco sways slightly into his hand.

Draco nods, but doesn’t say anything, and the towel is still hiding his face, which means Harry is forced to judge by Draco’s stiff shoulders how much of a lie his nod was. Harry slowly pulls the towel down, revealing Draco much as he was only an hour before; his face is red and blotchy, his hair is mussed, and his eyes are closed. Unlike before though, his face is now wet with tears instead of perspiration, and Harry feels a stab of pain go through his heart at the idea that something is marring this perfect night for Draco.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” he asks, moving his hands to cup Draco’s face, almost able to see the same motion echoed between them from earlier in the evening.

Draco shakes his head, and another tear falls to meet Harry’s thumb before being wiped away.

“Nothing. I’m fine, truly I am. I don’t know why I’m crying.”

Harry wipes away another tear and tilts Draco’s chin up gently until he meets his eyes. He can’t quite parse the emotions that he sees going across Draco’s face, but he can understand, at least in part, how Draco must be feeling. Tonight was a big step for both of them, their first time together, but it was Draco’s first time ever, and Harry feels like his chest might burst with love for Draco for letting him share this moment with him. Some of that must be reflected on his own face, because Draco gives him a watery little smile and tries again to explain.

“I’m fine, it’s just…” ‘A lot’ finishes Draco’s voice in Harry’s head, but he remains silent and gives Draco the chance to say the words for himself. “A lot,” he says, with another small smile, and then his lower lip begins to quaver again. “It’s all been really good!” he hastens to add. “And I’m fine!” he says, more tears splashing down his face. “It’s just a lot, all at once.”

Harry nods his head, wipes Draco’s tears, and kisses him. It’s not one of their best kisses, Draco sniffles in the middle of it, and Harry’s pretty sure that there’s snot in his mouth, but it’s still absolutely perfect, because it’s the two of them standing together in the middle of Harry’s bathroom at some wretchedly early hour in the morning.

When they pull apart, Harry swipes his thumbs across Draco’s cheeks again and says, “I get it.” At Draco’s raised eyebrow - and, oh, what a joy, to see Draco’s dearly loved prickly little personality pushing through his tears - Harry reminds him, “I was crying earlier tonight, too.” He shrugs. “It can be overwhelming sometimes, but that doesn’t mean it wasn’t amazing.”

Draco scrubs the towel across his face once more, then fits himself to Harry’s body, pressing his face into the spot between his neck and shoulder that he had been kissing earlier that evening. Draco’s nose presses into a tender area, and Harry thrills to consider that he might have a bruise there in the morning, and can’t wait to avoid all of Draco’s attempts to heal it with magic, instead letting it linger for days as a reminder of tonight. Maybe, he thinks nonsensically, he could even get a tattoo there, to preserve it for all eternity.

“I woke up and wanted to wash my hands,” Draco says out of nowhere, the words slightly muffled against Harry’s skin, “and when I saw myself in the mirror, I just. I don’t know. I guess I thought that maybe I would look different, afterwards. Which, I know that’s silly, but I wasn’t sure what I was expecting to see. And I couldn’t tell if I looked different or not. All I could think about was how I must have looked to you-”

“Absolutely gorgeous,” Harry interrupts, and Draco laughs a little before pressing on.

“And then I was thinking about how you looked at me, and, and, and you love me-”

“I do,” Harry says,

“-and,” Draco’s fists tighten against Harry’s back, and he can feel the material of the towel Draco is still holding move against his spine. Draco pulls back slightly, and looks Harry in the eye. He’s a bit of a mess, with his cheeks a chaotic pink and his eyelashes spiky from tears, but once again Harry is certain that he’s never seen anyone more lovely, “and, Harry, I love you too,” he says, and possibly some other words after that, but those are lost into Harry’s mouth, kissing him thoroughly before lifting him up, letting Draco wrap his legs around Harry’s waist, and carrying him back to bed.

When Harry wakes up the next morning, it’s with Draco curled around him, his face pressed against Harry’s chest, and the bathroom hand towel, which Harry now realises is the novelty Celestina Warbeck one that Draco got him as a joke, squashed under his armpit. It’s so strange, and so perfect, that Harry wants to laugh. It’s all just really good.

[hellrices]

Menendez Brothers Case

Ok I just want to touch on the topic of the MONSTERS show once again to just say fuck Ryan Murphy, I mean holy shit. Not only does he portray an actual real-life case incredibly inaccurately, but this is what he had to say when the ACTUAL Erik Menendez called him out on it

How much of a shithead do you have to be to first of all, take an actual case where the people involving it are still alive and well, and turn into some incestual, aggressive drama fantasy of your own and when the people that the case concerns TELL you that it's full of lies, you come out saying they're just "playing the victim" and should be sending you flowers??? Disgusting. And the fact that the show (especially the actor who plays Lyle - Nicholas Chavez) is encouraging people to dress up as Erik and Lyle for Halloween is sickening. These are actual people and this was an actual case regarding the murder of two incredibly wealthy individuals and the abuse that they inflicted on their children. It is not to be treated like the latest Halloween trend.

Now concerning the actual case, I realised the more I researched about it, the angrier it made me so I just need to rant about it right now (My last post was mostly regarding the trial sessions but I really can't stop thinking about the actual abuse they'd suffered throughout their home life.) I have to say though, it's absolutely disgusting and appalling that an ACTUAL statement that was made by the prosecution (Pam Bozanich) was that "Men cannot be raped as they lack the necessary equipment to be raped." Along with an outrageous insistence that any type of sex that occurred between Jose and his children was not forced which is absolutely untrue - Lyle mentioned that Erik had it so bad that he considered his brother to be a suicide risk and Erik himself admitted to having suicidal desires and terrible coping methods. He would wait till he was home alone to scream till he was trembling and stick pins, needles and tacks into his thighs just to feel the pain and often dissociate as he was being assaulted. Erik also said that he, at a very young age, created a persona for himself. "The Hurt Man", to try and separate himself from the situation when his father would take advantage of him. He would use this nickname for himself in his mind all the time and the only purpose of this 'hurt man' was to get hurt. He felt that he was protecting his mother and family by getting hurt in place of them. (Which honestly, breaks my heart. To imagine he was under 10 years old when all of this was happening makes me sick to my stomach.)  Erik also often questioned his sexuality because of the continuous assault that took place and his father who was the one to rape him, went around calling him slurs and spewing homophobia towards him. (Which I mean, holy shit- how can you ASSAULT your own child to the point where he drowns his food in lemon during every meal in hopes of distorting his sense of taste so it would be less painful during the rape and turn around and make fun of him for "being gay" (Erik was not gay by the way but is increasingly supportive of the LGBT community)) Even to find out that both the brothers thought they were protecting their mother by enduring all this abuse at the hands of their father instead of her - only to find out that she had known the whole time??? I can't imagine the despair at finding out that your own mother didn't give a shit about your father having raped you for 12+ years. Both brothers said that in that moment, they saw both their parents as the same person and couldn't differentiate them in their minds. It's heartbreaking knowing both boys absolutely loved doting on their mother just because she was less abusive than their father. But the fact of the matter is that she was a horrible mother. She would drink all day, starting about every afternoon and had mental breaks very often where she would scream, flail her arms about, throw things at anyone near her and completely ignored everything Jose was subjecting the boys to. Lyle also testified that she would sexually assault him as a child (As far as I'm aware, she didn't do the same with Erik). Both parents would beat their kids and left no room for privacy, often snooping through Erik's journals and being intensely intrusive and controlling.

Here are SOME incidents of abuse (not sexual in nature) which really show how their parents would go OUT of their way to make sure all their kids lives were a living hell  (Keep in mind, this is not including all the times they brothers would be beaten up by their parents) : - Whenever he spotted a ditch or cliff on the side of the road, Jose would drive towards it and put his knees on the steering wheel and put his hands up, seeing how long it would take for Erik to grab the steering wheel and turn it away from the ditch/cliff as a way to measure Erik's bravery (The longer Erik would sit with the car going towards the ditch/cliff, the braver Jose considered him to be) -Erik confided in his mother about his fear of the dark and monsters hiding in his room. In response his mother locked him in the basement while his father tormented him from inside it and left witch masks in his closet to scare him further at night - Lyle's girlfriend told him that she was pregnant but later told him that she lied and she had never been pregnant at all (they broke up afterwards) After a confrontation with his father, Lyle found out that his father paid off his girlfriend to get an abortion and lie to him about it. - Both boys (aged 4 and around 6 at the time) were often abandoned in malls and airports. -Jose's mother was a famous swimmer who was showcased in Cuba's sports hall of fame. In order to force his children to follow in those footsteps in terms of sports, he would force and hold Erik's head underwater to "expand his lungs". Essentially fucking drowning him. -Lyle once brought a bunny home as part of a school program in the second grade and named it "Flower". His mother told him to get rid of the bunny but he couldn't return it since summer break had just started. Later, Lyle found the bunny beaten to death, covered in flies in the trash can outside their house. (Jose had beaten the bunny with his bare hands and thrown it away) - Kitty once left an incredibly sick 9 year old Erik home alone while she went shopping for 5 hours. -During an argument 5 days before the murder, Kitty ripped off Lyle's hairpiece (He had started experiencing immense hair loss at age 14 and needed a toupee to cover it up). This was, as Lyle testifies, incredibly embarrassing (Erik was not aware his brother had this) and painful (the hair piece was only supposed to be removed using some sort of solvent). Lyle said his head immediately become extremely red and swollen and he felt completely humiliated, running off to reattach it after getting it back from his mother - A year before the murder, Kitty brought Erik along with her to buy a gun. Upon asking why she needed to buy that, Kitty told her son that she was "going to kill someone." Erik was incredibly unsettled put-off by the conversation and didn't ask any more questions. (Mind you, Kitty was heavily medicated at this time, taking around 13-15 pills a day) The new evidence : This is a recently discovered piece of evidence which may lead to the brothers' early release/ shorter sentence. Andy Cano (a cousin) had been brought in to give a testimony during the trial and he supported the claims that Erik and Lyle had been sexually abused, stating that Erik once told him about it, asking if it was normal for fathers to do that. Andy, who had no present father in his life, was unable to answer him (Mind you, both the boys were extremely young at the time so Andy wasn't aware that an adult should've been informed). His testimony was thought to be just a lie and was thrown aside - years later Andy died of overdose, his mother Marta said he never recovered from the guilt of not being able to help the brothers. This is part of the letter that was written by Erik to Andy that supports the claims that they were sexually abused :

[Erik is referring to his mother] "At times, I wish I could talk to her about things , you know? Some day... Especially dad and I but the way she worships him and tells him everything. I [am] so afraid she'll tell him whatever I say. I just can't risk it. Lyle got in a huge fight with her about why we couldn't spend Christmas with the rest of the family and mom freaked out and said if he wanted to go he could go alone. I just don't know why she wants to hurt him like that. Lyle wanted to stay but dad wouldn't let him. So now I'm stuck here alone. I've been trying to avoid dad. It's still happening Andy but it's worse for me now. I can't explain it. He [is] so overweight that I can't stand to see him. I never know when it's going to happen and it's driving me crazy. Every night, I stay up thinking he might come in. I need to put it out of my mind. I know what you said before but I'm afraid. You don't know dad like I do. He's crazy! He's warned me a hundred times about telling anyone. Especially Lyle. Am I serious whimpus? I don't know I'll make it through this. I can handle it, Andy. I need to stop thinking about it."

[starlingflight]

Hiiii!

I just wanted to butt in and say how much I love your hinny fanfics especially the once’s set in hbp. (I’m not going to say how many times I have reread them, it’s too embarrassing 🙈) The way you write them, the banter and chemistry!! Honestly sometimes it feels like I’m eavesdropping on someone else conversation because you make them seem so real. I love the pinning. :)

It’s fun to read about how tortured harry is and how he feels ‘normal’ and not under so much pressure when Ginny is around! I have a suggestion if you don’t mind (ignore this otherwise and accept my apology <3). I would love to read something you about Harry pinning over Ginny while she is with Dean and see his thoughts. The monster in his chest! I love reading about the early stages of their relationship it’s so cute! Or something like that

I hope you have a wonderful day and I hope you know that your writing is spectacular!!

Hi anon!

First of all, thank you so, so, so much for this! It literally made my day! The idea that anyone re-reads my fics makes me so happy, I can't even explain 🥺🥺🥺

And now I fear I must disappoint you 😭 I've tried writing this prompt three different ways, and I can't make it work… I very rarely explore Ginny's relationship with Dean until they're broken up and there's a reason for that (I hope you're ready for some less than complimentary takes about my two faves): Both Harry and Ginny use Dean as a coping mechanism.

Ginny stays with Dean way longer than she should, to an extent it's almost out of character for her. Why? In my opinion, because if she breaks up with Dean, she has to deal with something that's increasingly staring her in the face, the fact that Harry likes her, and despite all the work she's done on herself, she still wants to drop everything to be with him. It's an uncomfortable realisation for someone as independent as Ginny.

The sheer force of her feelings for Harry is a lot for her to accept, and it's easier for her to just stay with Dean who, while nice, inspires no such depth of emotion. It's not fair to Dean, but it's a self-preservation tactic that Ginny appears to be subconsciously committed to throughout HBP.

Now, onto the reason I'm struggling to write your lovely (and appreciated) request. Harry James Potter, number 1 avoider of emotions, actually finds the Dean relationship very convenient tbh. Do you know who doesn't have to deal with their ever-increasing feelings for their best friend's little sister? The guy whose best friend's little sister has a boyfriend.

There's a large section of HBP after Harry sees the Dinny kiss (and the chest monster is born), where Ginny lingers at the back of Harry's mind (and in his dreams) but he never really consciously dwells on his feelings for Ginny. Harry isn't ready to face it, and he doesn't have to because Ginny has a boyfriend.

It's only when Ginny and Dean break up that Harry starts to panic, not that Ginny won't reciprocate his feelings, only that Ron will be mad. It's one of the reasons I love hinny as a couple… on some level they both know. Even when neither of them want to haha.

Harry never views Dean as an obstacle in canon, because really he's not (sorry Dean, I still love you). I think he probably had very fleeting moments of envy (I wrote about Harry not liking Ginny wearing Dean's West Ham jumper 😅), but I don't think Harry believes for a moment that Dean is competition (I did write him having a little crisis of confidence about Dean post sectumsempra incident in FAIY, but that's really just Harry looking for ways to make himself feel bad because of his guilt). Dean is just a convenient reason for Harry not to deal with a messy emotional situation.

Really, is it any wonder Dean smashes that glass?

Anyway, apologies for the essay, I do really appreciate being sent prompts and I wish I could fulfil this one to your satisfaction! I hope someone with a slightly different hinny interpretation than me might be inspired by it ❤️❤️❤️

[huskynotwolf]

The Watcher’s ‘Pet’

—by TheCrazyHusky

Angst and possible violence, viewer discretion is advised

(Appreciate it if you reblog and tag #fuckyouwatcher and/or #eyesandearsbutcursed on the reblog! Hehe. This is a test run I did for howling stars au, so no need to take it seriously)

Martyn groaned. Someone was in his room.

He half expected them to be Cleo, given that her old roommate was moving out of his room after realising his name wasn’t Winter. In fact, he’s been going on, living life as someone named Winter for a year already with the winners. Then, it’s twelve at midnight. No way Zombie Girl’s awake.

Footsteps. Startled, Martyn jerked awake, pounced from his bed and onto the floor and grabbed the nearest weapon. He knew that long pole wasn’t going to do much damage, but if he swung it at enough velocity he could break a few legs (Pearl had tried this after she refused to give his sword back to him; she ended up staying in her bed for weeks).

Instead, in front of him was something he hated the most. A Watcher. Those little idiots would throw the Lifers and Winners around constantly, game after game. And that includes Grian.

“Oh my.” The Watcher murmured. “I didn’t think you would be so…handsome.” They made a strange purring sound, which confused Martyn. They dare barge into his room then say he’s cute?! Only Scott’s allowed to say that!

“I don’t think so. And you better get out of here unless you want a broken skull. I could do more than just win games and lie,” he growled. The Watcher only smiled, masking their glee. “Oh, but you’ll be perfect. Perfect for something I’ve been planning. Especially for you.” They offered.

That made the coral-overgrown man pause. Uncertain, he gripped his stick tighter. “You better not throw me in another game. Moon’s gonna be mad.” He tried with as much ferociousness as he could muster, which, according to Scott, only made him cuter. Mistake, then, he thought to himself.

Suddenly the Watcher lunged. They knocked his stick out of his hands and pinned him to his bed. The stick clattered on the floorboards and rolled a distance away. “Oh, Moon doesn’t control me. And neither does you.” They sneered, slipping their hand over his throat. He hissed, then twisted sideways, trying to wriggle out of their grip. However, they managed to sit right on top of him so he was crushed under the weight of a full-grown Watcher. He grunted in surprise as the weight crashed on him, making him collapse onto the bed. Worst of all he hated it. He hated the feeling it gives him: it made him blush, as he only did it with Scott. His fellow Mean Gill was only allowed to play with him this way, and if any one else tries they’ll answer to Scott’s dragon avatar.

But he wasn’t here to defend him now. Martyn was on his own. And he was losing.

“W-what do you want? Haven’t you taken enough from me?” He growled, struggling to free himself from the Watcher. They grabbed his flailing left hand and studied it, every finger and bone. Then he gripped it hard, then leaned into my face.

“I want your soul. Your life.” They said menacingly. “You were the Watcher’s favourite, someone who was always mentioned. Of course, this is an honour. Becoming post-immortal, with the cost of your soul. Jealousy is a great power, a power that pushes you forward.” They moved the hand they had on his throat, to his cheeks and pinched them. Martyn winced.

“B-but…” he gasped, realising he’d been holding his breath the whole time. He struggled to breath while simultaneously trying to get away from the Watcher as fast as possible. Obviously that did not happen. The Watcher knew all of his plans.

“Give it up.” They said. “Give him up.” They smiled, knowing they’d hit a sore spot. Martyn paled when they said that, the colour draining from his face. “You-you can’t threaten to take him away!” He cried, barely able to suppress the panic and fear that was building in his stomach. “H-he’s my friend! He’s the only proper one friend I have since you took—took Ren away from me.” He gasped, choking on his words. Tears began forming on his eyes as he mentioned Ren. His beloved King had been taken away from him after Pearl’s game, and he never saw him again. He didn’t even get to say goodbye.

The Watcher, like all others, of course, was completely ignorant of his feelings. However they did feel satisfied from the feedback he was giving. “And does anyone care? No.” They snapped. They tapped a piece of red coral growing out from his neck, then watched as Martyn tried to squirm out of their hands. “L-leave me a-alone.” He said between efforts of slithering out of their grip. The Watcher, still directly on top of him, shifted and swiftly moved a hand over his eyes. Sleepiness quickly washed over him, making his eyes heavy.

“No,” he muttered, barely audible. He didn’t dare close his eyes, not knowing whenever they might do something to him. Something he didn’t like at all. Fighting back the drowsiness that tugged in his head, he made one last attempt to escape. He tried pushing the Watcher off his stomach where he was sitting, but they didn’t budge. They seemed comfortable, in fact, to see someone suffer. (That’s the upright definition of a Watcher, though, isn’t it?)

“Scott-“ he gasped, clawing at the bedsheets. “P-please. Save me.” He begged, panting, drawing air. “I-I need help. Please,” he begged, while they watched, seemingly amused. “Oh, he can’t hear you. Don’t bother wasting your breath.” They smiled, unnerving Martyn. He shivered, then weakly murmured, “he won’t abandon me. He-he’s my friend.”

“But is he?” The Watcher asked. That one comment left the man speechless. He gaped at them, offended and hurt. Before he could snap any resort back at them, they grabbed a piece of cloth and jammed it on his mouth, temporarily gagging him. His eyes widened and he struggled to spit it out. They just shoved it deeper into his mouth the more he tried to remove it. “Mmm! Mmmmmm mmm mmmm!” He screeched, muffled by the makeshift gag they made. They waved his unintelligible screaming away and gripped both of his hands, holding them so tight he thought they would be ripped off his arm. At least he hoped that won’t happen.

The Watcher began chanting. He struggled, but an invisible force held him firm and tight to his bed, unwilling to give over to him. Purple swirls of glowing light began forming by his wrists, and the more they spoke as the spell goes on, the beams of light began solidifying. At first they resembled wristbands. Then thicker bracelets until Martyn figured out through his woozy brain that those weren’t bracelets but cuffs. Why would they want cuffs?

They went on, and a long, thick chain formed, connected to the cuffs. However, Martyn was too dazed to do anything. The drowsiness they inflicted made him sluggish, unable to resist and fight back. He whimpered, watching as the Watcher finish their casting. The cuffs and chains solidified completely, and they glowed purple. Grian will definitely ask why he got that thing. A whine rose in his throat.

Suddenly the door burst open. Both him and the Watcher snapped towards the sound. He suspected it was Scott, who might have heard his telepathic messages, but instead, Pearl barged in, dual-wielding her sickles. She saw the Watcher, let out an unholy screech and launched at them. Startled, they disappeared in a poof, and his hands fell back by his side. She ended up landing on Martyn’s lap.

Disappointed, she turned to glare at the Watcher’s hostage. She immediately noticed the cuffs and knew what was wrong. She sighed and removed his gag, and he coughed. “Hurrg,” he moaned. She rolled her eyes. “What happened?” She said, tired. “Explain these,” she pointed at the cuffs using her sickles.

Instead of replying, he fell over and passed out.

[hecateisalesbian]

The Pride of June: Aromantic

Todays art piece (bottom) was created by @zedleaked. Please go check out their blog and show support!

Scroll to the bottom for a message from our Tumblr User!

The Aromantic Flag is the Flag used to describe someone who experiences little to no romantic attraction. This IS NOT the same as asexual. Someone who is Aromantic can still feel the desire to have sexual relationships.

Fun History Fact: They first recorded use of the word Aromantic was said as joke by someone trying to explain they have no desire to be in a relationship

Tumblr User: @zedleaked, and @boilinghotsoupandcrackers (who is aroace)

Media characters: Lilith Clawthrone from The Owl House is aroace, Peridot from Steven Universe is aroace, Percival King from Epithet Erased is asexual and implied aromantic, Howie Honeyglow from Epithet Erased is aroace, Kusuo Saiki from the Disastrous Life of Saiki K is aroace. Unfortunately, aromantic people are very underrepresented and aroace representation in general is very limited. It can be seen that there aren’t any characters in media yet that are alloaro [people who can feel sexual attraction but not romantic attraction] which is a little unfortunate, we can only hope by spreading awareness about aromanticism that one day we may be represented more in media. (Written by @zedleaked)

Why the colors? Green and light green represents the aromantic spectrum, White represents platonic love and friendships, and Gray and black represents the spectrum of different sexualities

Where can I find the calendar? The calendar is my pinned post on my blog @hecateisalesbian! This will be occurring all throughout June, and tags such as #The Pride of June and #PoJ Project can be used to find my post

Special Message

”What does being aromantic mean: Aromantic is an umbrella term for people who do not feel romantic attraction or do not feel it most of the time. Romantic attraction is the desire to have a romantic interaction with another and potentially be in a romantic relationship with another. Aromantic people can be asexual at the same time or can just be standalone aromantic.

Fun history fact: The term aromantic started being used in 2005. There was an aromantic community formed on the AVEN: The Asexual Visibility & Education Network which was a community centred around asexuality. Guess these two really do go hand in hand!

Personal Experience: To break the professional language for a sec, figuring out whether you are aromantic or not is hard, especially if you are not asexual as well. When I was figuring myself out I often found that I never really developed crushes on others and that made me feel weird since romance is so mainstream and talked about and for some reason I don’t feel these weird butterflies in my stomach or something? I guess I’m just weirdo! Sure, I can find people attractive and cute but I didn’t feel that romantic feeling. As a kid I would try and just scan other kids in my class to try and figure out if they’d be a good partner. I didn’t know that there had to be some kind of feeling to get in a relationship with someone. I just thought people would go ‘hey this person is nice and cute, I will be their partner!’ but that’s definitely not how it works. I would find it hard to differentiate romantic and platonic love because I mean… love is love…? I mean some would say romantic love is doing stuff like cuddling, holding hands, kissing, hugging… but you can also do that platonically, right? There’s just that extra step in romantic love that I just can’t see because I can’t experience that extra step. There are moments where I think I feel love but I realise that at the time I was just really eager to be their friend as I get very excited when meeting someone like me but if I really thought about if I would be in a romantic relationship with that person… the answer would probably be no. Some aromantics can feel lonely as they can’t feel romantic love and they don’t have the desire to devote their life to a person, but remember that you still have those platonic relationships and they can be just as strong if not stronger than romantic ones, nothing is better than hanging out with a really awesome friend. If you believe you’re on the aromantic spectrum but are unsure, try doing some research for yourself as there are many terms under the umbrella that may fit you! Demiromantic for example is when you only feel romantic love when close to someone or grey-romantic is when you feel fluctuating levels of romantic love but as a whole barely experience it”.

[psychologeek]

Epilogue

So. This happened.

The day I feared and longed for has come.

I posted the last chapter of "Some of Them (want you)"

Feel free to comment, ask, or make any "based on" fanwork (just send me a link, and link back to my fic.)

Thank you to all those who've been there through the journey, or just stopped by. For everyone who left a comment.

Special thanks to @byrambles for the original fanfic that inspired me. You are a great writer, friend, and I'm always exited to see a note about any of your new works :)

In case you haven't seen my pinned post, This Whumptober I'm opening my Ask box for requests and prompts! What do that mean? Well, have you ever wanted to read more about something? This might be your lucky day.

Here's part of the endnotes:

My main thoughts, as I started writing this fic, were "I need to talk about Dami's suicide". I refused to let it be, or mistaken as actual death. It's been a a draft in my docs since August 2023, as I wrote "Sweet Dreams". Eventually, the things I wrote - the things I NEEDED to (hear) tell - are in chapter 14. (you aren't a failure. You succeeded to survive.

It's not a bad thing.) ~ I didn't think I'll get so deep into trauma and suicidality in this fic. Especially not child suicidality.

In fact, I rewrote chapter 15 several times, to keep out the harder topics. But then I realised that, actually- (No one ever talks about it. ) We should talk about it. (Because it's there, and it's hard, and it's consuming). And so the whole situation with young!Damian. As I realised that, despite all differences, Dami and Damian do share some experience and major characteristics: their sense of honour, responsibility, violent upbringing. They both care deeply, but only those they consider "mine". They are very different, yes, but they both lacked stability and had lost their main caretaker more then once. They both had to grow up too fast. Taking more then they can handle.) They both experienced things no child should. (And I know it. I know how it feels. Sure, "they had worse". But suffering is subjective. Suffering doesn't care about others. You can't banish pain by telling someone "others have it worse! How dare you complain?"). And I thought - Dami had first tried to kill himself when he was 10, because he felt like there's no hope. That this was the only escape. Damian is 10/11. And he feels like a burden. (Suicide is one of the 3 leading causes of death in ages 7-24). Sure, it's different. But being a child is HARD. Adults usually don't think about it. When I was a teen, so many told me "this is the best time of my life" (If this is the best," I thought, "I don't want to see the rest of it". They lied, dear reader. My 20s are better, and so will be my 30s and 40s. I have silver hairs growing, and they reflect the lights when I look in the mirror. I have a crack by my lip and the start of crow legs by my eyes, that reminds me that I do laugh. I do smile. That things DO get better.)   The world is hard and chaotic, and trying to make sense out of it is demanding, frustrating, consuming job. We do it, slowly. It just takes time. ~ Dami had Alfred. Damian.... Doesn't even have Richard now. (And feeling lonely or isolated is a risk factor. Major life changes is a risk factor. Death of a loved one is a risk factor. Feeling like a burden is a risk factor. Damian had been screaming for help for a long time, in the only way he knows. He deserves to be heard.) ~ On a personal note: This fic (and series) had been a big part of my life in the last year. This brought me some stability and escapism in the hard times we've gone through (that are still happening). The writing process had been complicated and funny, hard and delightful, torture and pleasure. Thank you, reader, for taking the time to read it. Thank you for those who stayed here, who waited every week for a chapter (and waited patiently during The Big Crisis). Thank you for those who just found it, and might have read it in a single day. (Now go get some water!) Thank you, reader, for being here. I hope you enjoyed. (And good night, Dreamers. Good night.)

[parvulous-writings]

Surprise // Silco x M!Reader

This is a special little oneshot - for the amazing @rey-is-not-a-skywalker

Summary: Silco has noticed some of your recent behaviours, so gives you a little surprise

Warnings: It's nothing graphic, it's just rather specifically tailored! partially uncharacteristically soft silco - lots of tension with Sevika. Detailed but also... not detailed?

Words: 2.6K

Notes:  Unfortunately something is wrong with my Tumblr right now - it's going through long phases of not letting me save drafts and/or post. I've submitted tickets but the first one said there wasn't anything wrong (from a couple weeks ago) and the most recent one hasn't gotten a response yet. I appreciate all of your patience <3 My requests are currently open! My pinned post (found here) contains both a list of characters I write for, and a masterlist!  Original character list - please request for these too!

Not my gif

Silco had always had a bit of a soft spot for you. At first, he tried to hide it, but here were ways in which you could tell; you'd be the only one he'd offer a drink to at a meeting, his eyes would linger on you for a moment too long every so often, and the mere fact that you worked for him were all signs that some way, somehow, you had wormed your way into his seemingly cold, dead heart. The first to notice was of course, his right hand, Sevika. At first she thought it was merely strange, but then she started to get downright suspicious. First the child he had taken under his wing, and now... You. The child, for the most part, stayed out of Sevika's way, even when spending time with Silco. She could deal with that. But you, you were never too far from Silco - you were practically on display. The man made sure that he always had an excuse on hand to keep you close - preferably within his line of sight. You didn't seem to notice the special attention you always got from the man, but Sevika did. To her, it was akin to a giant flashing neon sign above your head. Though part of her was indeed happy that Silco had finally started to feel emotions strongly enough to care for someone again, another part of her was simply boiling at the prospect. Not out of jealousy, but more out of sheer impracticality. This was not the time to fall in love. Not when everything between Zaun and Piltover was at a head - when Silco needed to keep a close eye on his very calculated moves concerning Topside. The last thing he - or anyone else involved - needed, was a distraction.

But to Silco, the kind of distraction you were giving him wasn't the kind that would be the end of his operation - at least in his eyes. To him, you were giving him a break from the rest of the world, some peace that he had needed for what had now become many years. It was a kind of peace that made him feel almost normal, that for those brief moments, he could pretend that perhaps he had a better life; friends, perhaps a small family, a proper home. This little daydream of his never usually lasted for long, but he wished it would at times.

After about three weeks of Silco's unusual behaviour concerning you, Sevika had reached her boiling point. She couldn't deal with this situation without answers anymore. So, storming up the corridor towards Silco's study, she had a purpose. She was going to get to the bottom of this little mystery, she knew that much. Several scenarios were playing through her mind as she reached the door, flinging it open with such strength that it almost put a hole in the wall. Silco immediately looked up, glaring at the intruder. Even after realising that it was only Sevika, his gaze didn't waver. It seemed that the woman had interrupted whatever goings-on had been happening in the room, and Silco was not happy about it. Silco put down the small objects he had been fiddling with, raising his undamaged brow at the woman. "And what is the meaning of this?" He asked, his voice starting to drip with venom. "We need to... discuss something." Sevika replied, choosing her words very carefully. She didn't want to anger Silco, but she knew that she was already on her way to that eventuality. "Do we really? Well, last time I checked, people typically knock at my door before entering." He glanced to the corner of the room mid-sentence. "It's alright, you don't need to be afraid... You just keep playing..." A small smile plays on his lips as he speaks to you, sat in the corner, happily amusing yourself. Silco's gaze span back to Sevika, becoming cold once more. "Sit down." The woman didn't argue, sitting herself in the uncomfortable - albeit allegedly padded - chair on the other side of Silco's desk. "What exactly is this about?" Silco asked, brushing away the pieces of clutter he had been fiddling with a few minutes prior. Sevika stayed quiet for a moment too long, and it wore Silco's patience thin very quickly. "Well?" He snapped impatiently. "We need to talk about... Him." Sevika's gaze briefly flitted to you, and Silco's eyes narrowed. He wasn't liking where this was going. "What about him?" Silco's tone was cold, almost accusatory. It held an unsaid 'choose your next words very carefully'. Though Sevika was undeniably a valuable asset to his operation, he was not opposed to disciplining her if she dared to speak ill of you. Sevika fell silent again at this. How was she going to put this without royally pissing him off? "I just think..." She began, but soon trailed off as she watched Silco's slender hands slowly ball into fists as they rested on his desk. "... That he's distracting you." There was no other way for her to put it, so she decided to try and face the issue head on, no matter how Silco's temper may to it. "Distracting me?" Silco's voice was... Eerily calm. "And how exactly would you say he's distracting me?" Sevika just gestured to his desk with her augmented arm, then to you seated in the corner with her other arm. "He... He does not contribute. All he does is sit and play like a child. He isn't a child! And you just... Let him? You let him sit in on sensitive shit, Silco!" She exclaimed, getting to her feet. "It's not right." "You wish to lecture me on what is right?" Silco responded, voice practically oozing past his lips. He leant back in his chair as he spoke, eyes trained on Sevika across from him. "After all I have given to you? After all we have achieved together?" His hand trails along the surface of his desk as he slowly gets to his feet. "Have you anything else you wish to say about my arrangements here?" He asks, gesturing vaguely to the room encasing you all. At this question, Sevika falls silent. She knows what kind of test this is - a test of loyalty. Whether she is willing enough to withstand Silco's... fancies, or whether she wants to be dealt with. Typically, Sevika was the one to do the 'dealing', so no doubt she would be left to Jinx, to be the young woman's play thing.

Sevika barely even needed to consider this; she's played with Jinx before, and as demure as the teen could seem to most, she was truly unhinged when it mattered. She had bested Sevika, and the older woman was not too keen to let that happen again. Silco began to turn away, his hand resting on the back of his chair, just above his shoulder height. He heaved a sigh, his slender shoulders slowly moving up, then down with the action, as he tried to rid himself of the tension that had now rooted in the muscle. "I… Didn't mean right as in…" Sevika started to try and explain herself, in an effort to keep herself in his good books, but by the grip that he suddenly had on the top of his chair, he wasn't in any sort of mood to listen to her reasonings. His head whipped round partially, his lips parted in a sneer. Sevika slowly nodded at this, finally deciding to react to the silent message she was being given. Perhaps she would try and get him alone - if that were even possible. Without another word, she left the room, closing the door and returning the room to how it had been before her arrival. Silco runs a hand through his hair, trying to calm himself, before rounding his chair to face you, as you happily sat with your little creations, blissfully ignoring the conversation that had gone on beside you, just a few feet away. Silco returned to his seat, bringing the objects he had been occupied with before back to his attention, and right in front of him. Carefully, and with a deft hand, he clipped all the pieces together, making sure they fit perfectly, and could move with relative ease without being too loose. When he was finally satisfied with the state of his creation, he got to his feet once more, slowly and quietly making his way over to you. "My dear..." He began, his tone dipped in a softness that rarely ever showed itself. You glance up briefly, a little surprised that he's approached you - it's the middle of the day, shouldn't he be working? Your brows furrow as you are about to ask this question to him, but he seems to predict your query before the words pass your lips. "I always have time for you." He speaks, handing you the small figure he had been working on nearly all morning.

It's a small, pose-able bat. Your eyes light up - the model itself had many smaller components that must not have been easy to place. "I made sure it was perfect, for you." Silco's voice breaks you from your thoughts again, the man's smile visible to you before your eyes had even turned back to his face again. "Well? Do you like it?" He asks, not quite impatient, but more... Desperate. Eager, perhaps is the best way to describe him - he wants, no, needs to know that it's to your liking. You giggle quietly, nodding at him with a wide smile. "I love it, Silco..." You stretch up for a moment, pressing a gentle kiss to his scarred cheek. You then turn back to your model - a vast array of little buildings, all of which Silco has, over time, watched you build and place according to your whims. You gaze over the miniature skyline briefly, before finding the perfect place to nestle this little creature Silco had gifted you - perched amongst some billboards, hiding in plain sight of the human figurines lining the streets below. "There..." You say, partly to yourself, before turning back to look at Silco, beaming with pride. "He can stay there, and we can both see him..." You chuckle, and Silco slowly lowers himself to sit beside you. "He, hm?" Silco hums, "And that's his name? I never thought of one for him..." He muses, playing along with you. You purse your lips in thought, trying to wrack your brain for a suitable name for your newfound bat figure. You shake your head, your nose scrunches as you fail to bring forth a suitable name for the little bat. "I've got nothing..." You reply softly, almost sounding disappointed. You feel Silco's hand come to rest on your shoulder. "It's alright... I'm sure we'll think of something, hm?" He pauses for a moment, his thumb slowly moving over your shoulder in an attempt to soothe any true disappointment you may have. "Now... How about we come away from this for a little while, and get you something to eat?" You nod slowly in agreement, and the pair of you get to your feet; Silco's hand fumbles for a moment whilst it seeks out yours, before your fingers intertwine with one another's.

Lunch, as always, was served in Silco's office, but the pair of you had moved over to another part of the room, sitting down at a small table and pair of plush chairs, that Silco had actually put in a week or so after your arrival. Before you, Silco had often had lunch alone at his desk, but now he had someone to dine with, who actually seemed to be less afraid of him than anyone else. In truth, there was little reason for you to fear Silco - the temper and fury that he had so often let loose on others without warning and without mercy, had never been directed at you, not even a smidgen of it. You had seen it before, of course, living with him made that more violent side of him hard to avoid, but he would always go and calm himself down before he came back to you, if something had gotten him too riled up. You sat across from one another, happily tucking in to your warm meals. Naturally, it was no Topside meal, but it was some of the best you'd be able to get in the Underground. Silco had made sure that you would always get the finest of what the Lanes had to offer, no matter what it took to get it. Thankfully, being the one to pull the strings in the majority of Zaun now, this was no issue for the man. He had treated you to the finest things he could get his hands on, most of them from the other barons of the Underground, but some things he even managed to import from Topside - not that he ever let you in on his secrets on that side of things. In fact, it was very rare that Silco let you know of, well, anything in terms of business. You had asked him about this once or twice before, and his only response was about 'keeping you safe'. That's all it ever was, no matter what you tried to discuss with him on the side of business. 'I don't want you getting involved, dear.' He'd tell you. 'It's not safe, and I'd rather not even think about risking you in this kind of trade... Please, understand at least this much, if anything..' And after that particular conversation, he'd brush you off or change the subject any time you'd bring it up. In his eyes, he had made his stance on the situation very clear. In it's own, sort of sweet way, you believed that this was the main way Silco showed he cared for you - even if he never really said it out loud, besides perhaps the pet name. Public displays - hell, most outward displays - of affection were not entirely Silco's area... And you've never pushed for that kind of thing, as it seemed to be a somewhat tender subject for him. You never asked why, it was not your business, and you hoped that eventually he may trust you - and himself - enough to tell you. For the time being, though, you were both happy enough keeping your relationship as it was; a vastly unspoken one, where although your care and affection for one another was deep-rooted and painfully obvious even to the pair of you, nothing was ever truly confirmed, nothing was made concrete by your words. You were happy with it for the most part - though a small part of you yearned desperately for the validation of his love - and although you hoped to bring up the unspoken part of your relationship at some point in the future, it was to remain the distant future for the time being. You didn't want to ruin a good thing and push Silco too much for an answer, causing him to just... Cut off everything entirely. You had seen it happen before, though mostly with lesser goons that he took in to do all of his dirty work, and whilst you didn't see yourself on their level, you didn't want to take any risks.

"Did you like your surprise?" Silco's low, velvet voice breaks you from your trance. You look up to him, and nod eagerly. You loved it - a truly wonderful and sweet surprise. "I did... Was there an occasion for it?" You asked, placing your cutlery on your plate as you finished your meal. "Do I need an occasion to get you gifts?" He responds, his eyes now fixed on the remainder of his meal. You pause briefly, before shaking your head in answer to his question. "No, of course not..." You crack a smile at him, which he soon returns when he meets your eye. He lets out a breathy chuckle, clearly pleased with this response of yours. "Good... Because, I can assure you, there will be many more to come..."

[jezmmart]

Chamomile Comic Trivia #31

#159 - Notice

It's Sam! I wish I had written down more about my decision to add her, although at this point I'm fairly sure I wasn't certain she was going to become a main character - in fact it was RIGHT around the week this posted that I began work on the first proper cover art for the series which of course did not include her.

Her design was based off this old one-off pin-up girl art from 2017, technically making her the first ever major Chamomile Comic character to exist, sort of.

She was named after Sam Lloyd, likely known for his portrayal of Ted the Lawyer from Scrubs. The news of his death had recently broken and I had just recently begun listening to Fake Doctors, Real Friends, the Scrubs rewatch podcast, as my go-to background entertainment when colouring the comic specifically each week. It still is now, albeit intermittently since they don't always produce an episode each week and I no longer have a backlog to catch up on. Now granted, I don't love the podcast as much as I used to - can be a bit cringey at times as these two hollywood actors chat about utterly unrelatable anecdotes from their lives - but it's overall been enjoyable and it'll be weird to find something new to accompany my colouring if it does come to an end or stops being enjoyable once they permanently pivot into... whatever they plan to do after they run out of Scrubs episodes. It's been part of my colouring process for the comic for longer than it hasn't been now, haha. So... yeah it felt right to honour that connection to my comic with Sam's name, on top of the fact that Scrubs is just straight-up one of my favourite TV shows and Ted was always a character that gave me big laughs.

Of course... I realised after that I'd introduced yet another character to the comic ending in "-a"! ...But whatever, it's a common thing. Not so long ago I had 5 co-workers simultaneously whose names also ended in -a, lol.

The decision to have had her always be around simply came from not having any strong ideas to introduce her and preferring the idea that at least some of the cast already knew her. The gag's been done before, but I thought it'd be extra funny to introduce her with a scene in which she is specifically announcing her departure from being a regular face in Cammie's life, which typically would mean the same for the audience in most works with actually established characters.

Final little bonus note - in panel 1, Cammie once again is entering with a handful of steaming coffee.

#160 - Official

I didn't really mean for it to be so small it's barely legible at web size, but the little sign on the panic alarm button behind the till says "Real emergencies only Cammie!", in reference to #50.

#161 - Before

All that Scrubs talk regarding Sam is kinda fitting, because they did the "this character was always here!" gag there too. For their one, they edited her in on various memorable shots and pretended the main character didn't notice her being present, here I obviously extended the frame on the end of several punchline panels from previous comics.

Here's a gif that shows the original panels compared to the new ones, showing both the new and old art isolated as well so you can see exactly what I drew to extend the older panels which naturally weren't drawn originally knowing that I would one day be extending them!

The second of the three Sam flashbacks is just a nice little bridging one, but it did take me a while to decide for sure which way around I wanted the first and third flashback panel. For the first: while there's been a little bit of mild bad language in the comic once the seal was broken here, Sam's "bitch" is the first time such language has appeared so it amused me to place it in a scene that has already happened long ago just barely outside of the audience's perspective. For the third: the joke is of course that the reveal of Sam's additional dialogue is particularly adding nothing to the scene whatsoever - like, as if Cammie making a fool of herself would even be remark-worthy at this point. I felt both these two goofs had a good punch to them in their own way so yeah, I remember being conflicted over whether I had chosen the funniest possible flow of these three gags.

Of course, the final joke of this one, in case it wasn't obvious (I could see it being subtle for some), is that Mimi's whole running gag is she's a side character who also has existed in the comic for long before her first on-screen appearance, yet Cammie never remembers her.

#162 - New

The art and dialogue structure of the first two panels here is identical to #160. I think it being a time-saver on my workload for the week was definitely a factor - for whatever reason I needed it at the time - but I also remember going for something with that choice beyond just that... But I can't for the life of me remember what. I don't think the parallel between the two comics adds anything reading them back now.

Anyway here's Newt! I really thought at the time that he was going to be as significant an addition as Sam, and I did come up with the idea of introducing a regular male character at the time I chose to bring Sam in, with Sam's introduction - and exit - being an amusing way to introduce a surprise new character.

...Then I proceeded to never really get any super strong story ideas for him lol. More detail on that in a second. I haven't forgotten him though, frustrates me that he keeps getting sidelined!

#163 - Training

Standard behind-the-scenes retail frustration humour here. I can neither confirm nor deny how much is based on my current employment. A little detail of authenticity/flavour is that they're watching a DVD intended for widescreen on an old non-widescreen TV that's clearly been in their staff room for at least a decade. Such was the case for my painful training videos too! (It's all online now as of a few years into when I started, so some progress has been made I guess).

#164 - Huh

It's not made clear yet, but the new status quo that Sam is a receptionist at a primary school is established here - the coloured hanging letter signage on the wall that is too perspective'd to read says "WELCOME TO OUR SCHOOL".

I chose this as a job for her based simply on the fact that my Mum has often worked in school offices for most of my life. She wasn't a receptionist but it was the sort of job where I have some... vague enough memories of the "behind-the-scenes" enough to draw something along those lines when I needed to show Sam at work.

Getting back to Newt, obviously the goof here is that Cammie is just being a sore loser about her friend leaving and Newt is about the most cool-sounding interesting person you could imagine meeting. Unfortunately that involved specifically coming up with fun sounding stuff that are not super common to do or know people that do, so despite the super interesting combo of cave-diving, stand-up and polyamory these are all things I feel like I'd have to do thorough research on to represent in the actual comic accurately... which is something I'd like to do but, time is finite and I have so much pre-existing experience with being a silly nonsense person. Would you believe it, there's another character in the comic for whom that experience lends itself very well!!

Speaking of whom, the first appearance of the bell on the door in Repeat 1 Records was only a month after Cammie got the job. She works fast!

[Trivia Archive | Browse from most recent]

[theghostbunnie]

hi, i saw your post answering nick deactivating all their profiles and i want to admit this since i feel kinda responsible but i think i mightve been the reason why they deactivated, you dont need to post this if you dont want to but consider this an admission of guilt of some sort

because nick had all xyr profiles still up even after the alligations happened for a good month or so, i spontaiously remembered their existance one night and realised that, by locking their profile on twt (i didnt follow xem back) and noticing that most of their art wasnt on there ment that alot of people wouldnt get to enjoy their art, and me being big on archiving content i like i decided to start up a blog on archiving their art since they were semi-big in the fairly oddparents fandom on twitter

since ive ran two previous art archive blogs before i made sure to check that nick had been completely inactive and not on any other account, making sure not to post any of their art already on tumblr since the blog was still up at the time and i had planned on saving those as drafts if something happened, and i had set up a small queue on whatever art i could find searching their username on google, and most importantly i let them know in the pinned post that if they wanted this archive taken down then i will 100% take it down

the next day after i made that blog ive noticed i had recieved two dms from nick telling me to take this down, i didnt actually read them fully, all i saw was "may you take this archive down?" and sprinted to deactivate the entire blog (i would be lying if i said i wasnt curious to know how exactly they found the blog, but thats me being nosey someone probably told xem, not very relevant to the conversation)

it wasnt untill i was scrolling through my main blogs post on a tag that ive noticed that they deactivated, and at first i thought that maybe it just showed them as deactivated despite changing their url or something since ive noticed it would sometimes happen, but nope, fully deactivated

i personally, as ive mentioned, wasnt mutuals with xem nor would i have really considered us accuaintences, more of a 'people who happened to be in the same soup isle in the same store' shtick, but they would sometimes send funny replies, i wasnt very big into the ship they were posting at the moment but i liked their art and they had shared some wc crossover art that made me happy since that was my special interest and it was sorta stuck in my head as a special little conversation ive had, and while digging i admitibly got sorta fascinated by masha / sasha in general inspite of the fact ive never watched camp camp before (trying to fight the demons rn)

i hold absoloutly no grudge against nick for telling me i should take it down as they have a right to and i explicitly said in the pinned that i would , i just feel very bad about the fact that ive made them extremely uncomfortable to the point where xe felt like xe had to remove their two only platforms they were active on in general, and again i feel very strongly about preservation of media for others to enjoy and it backfired and now no one gets to enjoy it, including the fact that they had made alot of fanart for a rarepair

(since the blog didnt really exist for more then 2 days and if you do want proof of the blogs existance heres a link to a reblog i happened to notice from someone i know -> https://www.tumblr.com/coolmika745/765034471884029952?source=share)

I'm gonna be so honest Idk how Twitter or archiving or alot of the stuff you just said works but maybe this information will be important to somebody so up it goes/gen

I still think it looks suspicious being accused of what they are they just go radio silent but everything is still just allegations at the moment

[velvet-vox]

40th year anniversary of Tetris special post.

(Various ramblings down below).

By the way, I don't see J as wasted potential until she dies again. After my most recent rewatch of Murder Drones, I do think that J could have had some interesting stuff to do in our current plot, or at least that's what my new highly critical phase of Murder Drones tells me, but as she is now, I don't get why the fandom fixates so much on her having zero screen time when there's already so many characters that need to be developed.

Originally, I was going to make an "all the problems that I have with Doll" post, but then I realised that this entire time after the release of episode 7 I've been going through the 5 stages of grief, and now I've reached anger, the phase where I take out all of my frustrations on the show, so instead I'll be reserving my honest opinions on the matter to a later date; but not before dropping the nuclear bomb on you:

I feel more sympathy towards Judge Claude Frollo and Lord Shen than I feel for Doll. No I'm serious (rhetorically).

You see, the thing is that, with Frollo, you could see the innate humanity within him, especially in the Hellfire scene. When you rewatch the movie a second time, you realise that Frollo never had a moment where he was truly happy with what was happening. Sure, he took a little bit of pleasure by hearing a guy getting frustrated across the room, but that was only because he thought he was punishing the sinful, not because he genuinely found sadistic pleasure in the act of violence. Yeah, sure, he tried to r##e a Latina woman, it's as unforgivable and inexcusable as you can get, but it's not like you couldn't see all the conflicting feelings of internalised Christian indoctrination that led him to become such a sick and vile individual, you can pin down a character arc without even having a single clue of its existence.

Same thing with Lord Shen: part of the reason why he's such an amazing antagonist, it's because the movie spends a large chunk of his runtime showcasing his emotions and paranoia, you can easily cut out a lot of the scenes with the Soothsayer and it would be just fine, but the fact that we see those scenes and the relationship between the two adds multiple layers of depth and enjoyment to his character. Also you should know that genocide is more excusable than r##e in fiction, it's just a fact.

But with Doll.... we never get any of that. Liam wrote Doll in the same way DreamWorks wrote Tai Lung: a threat first, and a sympathetic villain second. Except, with Tai Lung, when time came to shove the writers committed to his sympathetic traits, showcasing his emotions, backstory, and all of that. But Liam instead just ended up committing to Doll being mysterious and threatening but almost accidentally never delved deep into the human elements that he gave her and then just ended up killing her off in an anticlimactic way like a plot device when she overstayed her welcome.

For the longest time, I couldn't understand why comments like this existed:

Like, why? Doll had as sympathetic of a backstory as a children's program animated villain could get, it's not the most tragic thing in Murder Drones but by regular standards it was peak, and she was forced to cannibalise her classmates like Uzi was, and grew desensitized to other people's lives when all of the adults and classmates forgot to check out on her. Surely the broken, lonely orphan would be more emotionally captivating than the genocidal war machine right?

But that's the thing: we actually get a look into V's mind. We know about the humanity present within her. We saw her struggles, the things that tick her off, while with Doll, we only get a backbone of a character, she's more of a force of nature but personified into a generic b###h, she never seems to particularly struggle with anything throughout the plot, so it's really hard to feel any sympathy for her until you start to think hard about it.

But that's enough of these silly ramblings: today it's a special occasion, it's the 40th anniversary of Tetris, and when I learned about it, I knew that I had to rush out a celebratory post for our Russian Queen: Yeva.

So here there's a smaller version of my work on the Doll catalogue but for Yeva. Some good art and some good comments. (Once again to all of the artists, I will erase your names and projects from this post if you find it uncomfortable).

Please enjoy.

Yeva art by @yakkuo13 :

Mama Yeva

Crab fight

Beautiful clothes

Art by @sir-dahlia

Cup of tea

Art by @eveledoze :

Russian lifestyle

Lab mates

Yeva ideas by @dreamii-krybaby :

A tragic au

A badass

Death from the get go

[artificialgrinder]

THE DARK SEEPING IN (BRATZ FASHION PIXIEZ REIMAGINING) CH. 7

Breeana and the girls prepare for the upcoming Magnolia Ball, surprised to find Cymbeline has flaked out.

AN: Okay, so this one is kinda shorter so I apologise! The next one will be longer however, I promise. Also, I just want to say, I noticed the increase in traffic on this story and I really appreciate everyone's kind comments! Thank you so so much, you're all so sweet.

Breeana really wanted to stop in the hall and just ask Dylan outright. She  really  wanted to. But with all those people around…And the fact she had already missed so many chances…

And the fact she had other matters to tend to, there was no point.

Her stomach was still in knots since fleeing the cafeteria like that, especially knowing many people probably saw the dramatics. From their perspective, she imagined it was like something out of a teen movie or a soap opera. 

Fortunately, Felicia was kind enough to walk with her all the way from the school, all the way to the town centre. The other girl lived in that area anyway, which was a win-win for both parties.

"You meeting your sister here?" Felicia had asked to which Breeana said yes. 

But that was a lie. She knew Cymbeline wasn't going to show up. 

Now pinning fake flowers to a vine-covered lamp post, she thought of all the things her sister could have been doing at that present moment. 

Funny how weeks prior, Cymbeline could have torn the house down with her ranting of how the organisation for the Magnolia Ball was. She needed all the help she could get to bring it all together. And now that preparations were well underway, what with everyone gathered in the town centre setting up the scenery, Breeana still wasn't surprised Cymbeline flaked out.

"What's up, bitch?"

The voice caught her off guard, turning to see Yasmin approaching with a folded banner in her hand. "Sorry about earlier. You know, the cafeteria. I mean, I don't know why you got up and left like that, but sorry anyway."

Breeana blinked, unsure of what to say. "Oh, um. Sorry about that. I just…had bad cramps."

"Ugh, I feel that." Yasmin stroked Breeana's shoulder. "Fuck having a uterus."

Breeana managed a breath of a laugh. "Yeah, for real."

Then Cloe came next. "Hey, guys!" She hurried over, holding a small object in her hand, "Look! It's a petal. It fell from the tree. Like, wow!"

"Never change, angel." Yasmin rolled her eyes yet smiled.

"Hey, ladies!" Yet another voice came. Sasha and Jade were now joining the equation. Breeana's stomach churned. Of all of Cymbeline's friends, she always found both Jade and Sasha to be the more upfront ones. And she knew what was to come.

"So we got the music line-up from the DJ. It's gonna pop." Sasha waved the piece of paper in front of Yasmin's face.

The Latina took the list, her eyes scanning it. "Nice mix. Current tracks with some '80s and '90s. Just getting the nostalgia in there."

Cloe peeked over Yasmin's shoulder, also analysing the words on the paper. "Oh my God, yes. They got Spice Girls on there! Can we all recreate that act we used to do in kindergarten?"

"You still remember that?" Jade blew out a cloud of smoke, having pulled out her vape.

"Um, yeah? It was only like, uh, one of our most iconic moments ever," Cloe said as if it should have been a given. "Cymbeline and I know it off by heart still."

And there it was, the invitation to the topic. If only Breeana had just run away.

"Where is Cymbeline anyway?" Sasha's eyes scanned the square.

"Oh, shit. I didn't even realise." Cole shrugged.

Breeana turned back to the lamp post, starting to decorate in the hopes the older girls would just take this discussion elsewhere.

"I don't know why you're all acting brand new and surprised." Yasmin unfolded her banner just to fold it back up. "Kinda knew she wasn't coming, what with her being so busy around her girlfriend these days."

"Bitch, are you crazy? Her Dad funds this shit. She organises everything. It's, like, her life's mission to make this shit a success!" Jade ranted.

"Unless something came up?" Sasha shrugged, then peered past Yasmin to the youngest Devlin. "You know where she at, Bree'?"

"Fuck, I," Breeana faked a sigh, "I'm not sure. I mean…I think she's on her period or something. She had to go home real quick."

"Oh, shit. You're both synced. You guys must be witches," Cloe suggested with a giggle.

"Haha. Yeah."

"No - No - No. Seriously," Sasha waved her hand around, not in favour of the distraction, "Cymbeline would never let a period stop her from doing shit. She would - - Fuck, we have a party tonight. You gonna tell me next that she ain't going to that?"

And Breeana panicked, "I-I don't know. She hasn't really - -"

"Tone it down, Bunny Boo," Cloe put a calming hand on Sasha's shoulder. "It's not that big of a deal."

The flared-up girl turned back to Cloe with a raised brow. There was something in her eyes as if telepathically communicated to Cloe. But all that left her mouth was, "Alright. Cool."

That should have relaxed the younger Devlin sister. But she wasn't dumb enough to miss the insincerity in Sasha's voice.

"Let's just finish decorating. We still gotta get ready for tonight," Yasmin then looked at Breeana, " You  coming later?"

"I actually wasn't invited to whatever it is," Breeana said, sounding more sorry for herself than she meant to.

"Viper's party," Sasha said like it was common knowledge.

"Viper?"

"You know, Cade." She elaborated.

"His birthday party at  Basement.  Koby's band's playing," Jade added.

"And Cymbeline would never miss a Blaze gig," Sasha just had to go on, much to Breeana's dismay.

" Sasha ," Cloe said more sternly.

"Yeah, come on, bitch. Let's just…get this shit done and go get ready." Yasmin steered Sasha away, nodding apologetically to the younger girl.

There were a few murmurs amongst Cymbeline's friends, but Breeana paid no heed. She had a job to do. A job her sister was once so passionate about.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"You sure you don't wanna come, Bree'?"

"I just wasn't invited in the first place, you know?" Breeana explained on the phone, rubbing moisturiser all over her face and neck. When Dylan's name appeared on her phone, her stomach flipped, practically jumping into her throat. But how could she ignore this opportunity?

"Girl, everybody is invited. Coulda just showed up, you feel?"  Dylan continued. There was the sound of him drinking from a bottle and the music thumping in the background. Very Oliver Tree-type beats.

"Yeah, but still. I don't know. Social anxiety and all," Breeana blushed, scooping the phone up to her ear, turning speaker mode off. Venturing out of her bathroom, she flopped down on the bed. "I know it's not a huge issue, but…my brain just doesn't work that way, you know?"

"Yeah, I feel. Cloe used to be like that. But having those other girls around her, it kinda just brought out the side she always wanted everybody to see, you know?" 

"Yeah…"  Easier said than done, though,  Breeana refrained from saying. "Are they there?" She asked for no reason in particular.

"Nah, ain't seen them around. They better show up soon. Cameron is hounding me so much, already asking where Blondie is. What about your sister and her gothy lady friend. Are they on route?" 

Breeana sighed, hoping it wasn't heard. “Cymbeline’s just…exhausted and, you know - -”

"Don't worry, I know what you're saying. Well, shit. Next time there's a party, you can be my plus one, right?" 

Breeana flushed, allowing a smile to appear on her face. "Are you serious?"

"Yeah, girl. It would be the highlight of my year, honestly.

"You drunk, Dyl'?"

"Not at all."

Breeana giggled. "Okay. Yeah, sure. I'll be your plus one."

"Sick." 

Breeana could just hear the smile in his voice. Fuck, everything about this boy just had her melting.

"I saw you in the hall earlier, by the way. I was gonna talk to you, but that bitch ass Zach got in my way."  Dylan sipped from whatever he was drinking.

And Breeana knew what was coming. But now, she was less on edge.

Well, that was until she heard the clacking of heels.

 "I was supposed to ask earlier."

Cymbeline zoomed passed Breeana's bedroom door, clearly in a hurry.

"What did you want to say in the cafeteria?"

It was now or never. "Hang on, Dylan. I gotta go. I'll call you back."

Before she could give in to his protests, she hung up.

Breeana breathed in deeply. She got up off her bed and followed her sister.