#I think this is the most low effort thing I’ve ever posted

[spineless-lobster]

Patroclus hadesgame

[dragons-in-spaceee]

the only thing rocking around in my head rn is that Hermann has porridge for breakfast when he can like none of this microwave sweet shit proper bland porridge from a pan hes never had cereal in his whole goddamn life and has only had toast a few times in the last several decades

[flwrkid14]

The Tim Drake Heartthrob Conspiracy

It started as a slow, creeping suspicion. A few throwaway comments here, a couple of odd interactions there. At first, no one thought much of it.

One day, Dick was grabbing coffee near Wayne Enterprises when he overheard two interns chatting in line. “I saw Tim Drake today, and let me tell you, I think I’ve developed a new celebrity crush,” one of them said, giggling.

Dick nearly choked on his iced latte. Tim? Celebrity crush? He shook it off, chalking it up to the occasional corporate crush, nothing out of the ordinary for someone who runs a massive company. But then he heard it again the next week at a Titan’s briefing. Garfield leaned over to him during a meeting, nodding toward Tim across the room.

“Man, Tim’s really come into his own, huh? Guy’s kinda a looker now,” Gar commented.

Dick blinked, then frowned. “Wait, what?”

“Oh, come on, Nightwing,” Gar teased, “you can’t tell me you haven’t noticed! The quiet broody thing is working for him. I bet half of Gotham has a crush on him.”

By the time Dick got back to Gotham, the gears were turning in his head. Did half of Gotham have a crush on Tim?

Then it happened again. This time it was Damian’s turn.

He had been sparring with Jon in the Batcave, when their conversation drifted, as it often did. “You ever think about what it would be like to date someone like Tim?” Jon asked, completely out of the blue.

Damian froze, mid-punch. “What?”

“I mean, he’s smart, right? Responsible, kinda low-key. Would probably make a great boyfriend,” Jon continued, completely oblivious to the growing horror on Damian’s face.

“Grayson and Todd, are enough. I refuse to let another sibling of mine become Gotham’s romantic fascination!” Damian exclaimed later that night at the dinner table. The others laughed, assuming Damian was just being overly dramatic, as usual.

But the seed had been planted.

It didn’t take long for the other Batfamily members to start picking up on the signs.

Steph first noticed when she logged onto a Wayne Enterprises fan forum (because yes, those exist) and saw a thread that was simply titled, “Tim Drake’s Glow-Up Appreciation Post”. The page was filled with comments fawning over him—talking about his “sharp jawline,” his “dark, mysterious aura,” and how “charming” he was during interviews.

Naturally, Steph sent the link to Cass with a laughing emoji. “Look at our boy, growing up into Gotham’s next heartbreaker,” she joked.

But as more and more of these comments popped up in the oddest places, Steph’s joking tone faded. Was Tim really the next heartthrob?

The realization hit Jason last, as most things concerning Tim usually did. He was scrolling through his usual online haunts, browsing forums that discussed Gotham’s vigilantes, when he stumbled on something unusual.

A post titled: Top 10 Reasons Why Red Robin is the Best Looking Vigilante in Gotham.

Jason almost clicked out of it immediately, assuming it was some kind of joke. But no. There were paragraphs. Analysis. Photos that somehow made Tim look like a damn model, even in his ridiculous Red Robin cape.

Jason scrolled through in disbelief, not sure what he was more stunned by: the fact that people were thirsting after Tim, or that someone had gone to this much effort to explain why he was hot.

“That’s it. The internet is officially broken,” Jason muttered to himself, before sending a screenshot to the family group chat with the caption: Since when did Tim become a fashion icon?

The real kicker, though, was Alfred. After weeks of the Batfamily casually throwing around jokes about Tim’s newly discovered “status,” Alfred finally made his observation one morning over breakfast.

“Master Timothy has always had a certain quiet charm about him,” Alfred said as he served coffee, completely unbothered by the ensuing chaos.

Dick, nearly spilling his coffee: “Wait, you knew about this? Why didn’t you say something?”

Alfred raised a brow. “It hardly seemed necessary. I assumed you all were already aware of Master Timothy’s appeal.”

Appeal. Appeal.

Jason was laughing so hard he had to leave the room, while Steph and Cass exchanged glances that said everything: they needed to re-evaluate everything about their little brother.

The whole Batfamily was still coming to terms with it. They joked, they teased, but there was an undeniable shift. When they looked at Tim now, they saw what others had apparently been seeing for years—a quietly confident, strikingly intelligent young man who had somehow grown into one of Gotham’s most eligible bachelors.

Of course, the moment that really sealed the deal came when Tim rode into the Batcave one evening on his Red Bird bike, wearing hastily thrown on stylish outfit—a black leather jacket, perfectly fitted jeans, and a shirt that gave him a casual, yet effortlessly cool look. Running a hand through his still damp hair, a look of mild annoyance on his face.

“Sorry, I��m running late. Got a date.”

For a moment, the Batfamily just stared.

Holy. Shit.

And then, as if on cue, Dick, Steph, Cass, Duke, Jason, and even Damian had the same thought at the same time: Oh my God, Tim Drake is the Batfamily’s biggest heartthrob.

The realization was almost too much to handle.

[hermitessun]

[trigger warning in advance]

More of a scrap post -

one thing I’ve noticed significantly with rohini placements, or should I say partly since this obviously won’t apply to everyone:

rohini natives’ proneness to get into sex scandals of some kind.

here’s examples:

the left picture depicts Karima El Mahroug, also known by the stage name Ruby Rubacuori (Italian for "Ruby the Heartstealer"). In 2011, Karima was involved in a sex scandal with Silvio Berlusconi. Silvio Berlusconi, former Prime Minister of Italy, was accused and initially convicted of paying then 17 year old Moroccan Karima El Mahroug for sexual services.

born in Morocco, her birth time unfortunately isn’t precise, however there is a very high chance Karima is a rohini moon.

on the right, we see Algerian Zahia Dehar. In 2009, Zahia, who was then 16 or 17, was allegedly paid for sex with Karim Benzema, who was a player on the France national football team. This became part of one of the biggest sex scandals to ever hit French sport. Despite her best efforts, Zahia Dehar is still best known in France as a footballer's birthday present.

Zahia’s exact birth time isn’t available either, however it is safe to say that she was most likely a rohini ascendant.

these two women really exemplify life through the lens of rohini. this post is by no means meant to glorify their scandals and struggles with the male world, far from that: It is undeniable that the rohini essence leaves its mark on the female native in one way or the other and these two women really showcase that.

both have in common, that they drew in powerful men through their uninhibited sexuality, as the sex appeal both Karima and Zahia share to this very day is simply unarguable. Berlusconi, as controversial as he may have been, was a PRIME MINISTER after all in all his glory and money. Karim Benzema is a notorious, wealthy footballer.

it is these very sensitive, explicit scandals that have opened a door for them. if we take a look at Karima (rohini moon) now, she is happily married with one daughter, looks amazing and is living an extravagant life with her Italian husband as seen in her Instagram posts, while still maintaining a low profile. Zahia (rohini ascendant) established her very own lingerie line, commanded attention in the French fashion industry and made a debut in the French acting department as well.

Rohini is multifaceted, part of rohini natives is their coquetry and their strong link/tie to the opposite sex and sensuality (think, marilyn monroe for example).

As discussed above it can be quite common for rohinis to end up in sticky situations with the public eye, if you catch my drift. while it doesn’t necessarily need to be a blatant sex scandal, it can also be in form of frequent sexualisation, a tainted reputation or defamation of some sort through kinswomen and other envious girls.

truth is wherever life takes a rohini native, she will always benefit in one way or the other and it will most likely be through her beauty and sex appeal.

Of course there is much more to rohini than this

[sunshine-for-serotonin]

The Jaws of Those Most Beloved

Erwin Smith x reader

Notes: fix it ending where Erwin is administered the titan serum even though it’s not really mentioned, small bit of biting, praise, Erwin calls you ma’am because that’s hot af, titty sucking with a well endowed reader, on that note: nursing handjob, a sprinkle of chubby reader, dacryphilia, the actual smut doesn’t last very long because Erwin cums pretty much the moment he starts thinking about how much he loves you.

3.2k words

A small blurb for: @flametrashira

Big thanks to: @seaslugfanclub who saved my ass by being a pre-reader and editor! Thank you, Neptune!

The tiniest bit inspired by the song ‘Rule #34 by Fish in a Birdcage, covered by Justine’s mic’.

As nervous as I am about posting this, I strongly believe this is one of the best things I’ve ever written-

Summary: Overworking himself as per usual, Erwin finds salvation in the tender caresses from you that his body craves, yet his mind struggles to accept the notion he is worthy of such care.

——————————————————————————

Shadows danced and created monstrous silhouettes across the walls of Erwin’s study, the candle he had lit slowly burning as he poured over plans and preparations late into the night. The ink that flowed from his quill seemed to blot and merge in the low light, and Erwin found himself struggling to write despite the words flowing steadily through his tired mind. His hair, the same golden hue as church bells, slowly started to become more unkept as the minutes ticked by, cerulean eyes scanning the same sentence repeatedly in an effort to process what he had written. And yet, for all he tried, both words and thoughts continued to evade him, as faint as the smoke from the candle wick as the flames devoured it.

A faint knock, promptly followed by the creaking of his office door opening is what shook the commander out of his stupor. The image of you entering his study, a plate of warm food obviously intended for him in your hand, was all too enchanting, the haze in his mind simultaneously lifting and becoming maddeningly worse.

“Beloved…. It’s late, you should be in bed… I’ve just a few more documents to complete and I will join you.”

A soft huff left your tantalizing lips as you set the plate down on his desk over top of papers, the ink having long dried whilst he was in a daze, and ignoring the soft pout on his exhausted features. You were all too familiar with Erwin and his tactics; he would tell you he would go to bed once he was finished, stay in his office for longer, and then when you would go check on him he would be out cold. He was always plagued by nightmares at those times, the warmth of your touch gone and unable to stave away the loneliness, the dead bodies, the blood on his hands and conscious.

“And how is it that I should go to bed, yet you stay up without food in your belly as you slave away over papers? You need to eat something and then be done for the night, honey.”

“But beloved-”

“Erwin.”

Oh. You were using that tone, the one that makes shivers run down his spine and his heart leap into his throat, the one that makes him unable to do anything but surrender to you and the sensations you ignite in him, body, mind, and spirit. You knew the way that tone affected him, you always had, and you sure as hell knew it now as he blushed to the very tips of his ears. It was all too entertaining to watch the normally stoic and composed man start to crumble, to witness Erwin Smith, humanities commander, huddle into himself and start playing with his fingers as he avoided your gaze.

“Now you listen to me, Erwin love. You are going to stop working, eat your dinner, and then I am going to help you change into sleep clothes before you collapse from exhaustion. Understand?”

“Of course, yes…”

“Yes what?”

Searing heat started pooling in Erwin’s belly, his face growing hotter as he folded his calloused hands in his lap with a sheepish expression to hide his growing arousal, a small murmur leaving his lips as he replied to you.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“That’s my good boy~”

You giggle softly, taking his head in your warm hands to tilt his face up to look at you as you stroke the sharp structure of his cheekbones. If you looked close enough, you almost felt you could see where the shifter scars around his blue orbs had been.

“Look me in the eyes when you’re talking to me though, honey. You know better, I’ve trained you better. Right?”

“Yes ma’am, you’re right, I know better.”

Strong arms wrapped around your waist as Erwin nuzzled himself against your soft middle, just below your chest. You couldn’t help the small coo that left your lips as you ran your fingers through his hair, the gold locks just barely peeking out over the rim of your breasts and your nails scratching his scalp so deliciously gentle that it made his chest ache with love.

“Is there something you’re wanting, baby? Hm?”

“Beloved, ma’am, I was… I was wondering if you would touch me… please, ma’am, I-I need it...”

Softly biting your lip, you let out a pleased hum as you force him to face you again. Big blue eyes blink guiltily up at you beneath thick brows, and from what you can see of his collar bone you know he’s already blushing down to his chest which lets you know just how needy he truly is already.

“Dinner first, but then I believe you’ve more than earned it. Do you want me to feed you?”

“Yes please, ma’am.”

Erwin always felt safest when he had your weight on him or underneath him, a fact you keep in mind as you make yourself comfortable in his lap and begin feeding him bites from the plate, your thick thighs caging his own in the mahogany chair. You could tell his cock was already starting to harden the second you sat down, the bulge in his uniform trousers only growing when you gave him a small peck on the lips, his mouth chasing yours without a second thought when you pulled away before you were able to reign him in again.

“Easy, sweetheart… I can’t exactly feed you if your mouths not free~ And the longer it takes you to eat, the longer it’ll be before I can give you some attention~”

Reaching one of your hands under the plate in your lap, you gently palm him through his pants. Your reward being a subtle roll of his hips and a small keen, his heavy thighs flexing under you as he tried to hold you closer.

“My apologies, ma’am. I didn’t intend to be… bad… I love you…”

It was adorable, truly. Every time Erwin did something he feared may disappoint or upset you, he would immediately follow it up with an ‘I love you’ and got incredibly distressed if you failed to say it back in a timely manner, as though fearing he would lose your love despite how many times you had assured him you would be with him for eternity.

“I love you too, Erwin. Always will.”

That pulled a smile from his full lips before he conceded, allowing you to go back to feeding him as he tried to ignore the throbbing ache in his groin. After a few quiet minutes of making sure he had food in his tummy, Erwin finally finished all of his meal, slightly hiding his face in you neck with a soft whine as he realized you could feel his heavy cock twitch in anticipation.

“Ma’am, please…”

“I know, I know, baby… you’re so pretty when you beg, you know that?”

Another brilliant flush coated the commanders features, when you called him “pretty”. It truly was the simple praise and soft gestures that did your love in, you thought to yourself as you pulled him in for a soft kiss, a stark contrast to how your hands began trailing over his chest. The way Erwin’s lips molded against yours was as seemingly as natural as breathing to the blonde man, a huff of relief leaving him through his nose causing warm air to tickle across your cheek as you began to slowly undo his uniform top. The first time you two had kissed, Erwin had adorably tried to strategize how your lips were meant to connect with his own, his brows furrowing slightly as he had studied your face to determine the best possible angle before you decided to just go for it and pull him in. The thought of that first kiss causes you to chuckle tantalizingly against his lips, the vibrations pulling a small moan from his throat as the kiss starts to heat up.

Your fingers move to play with his collar, gently peeling away the fabric of his uniform top to reveal his flushed and sensitive chest, the muscles in his pecs heaving with the effort of catching his breath after you pull away.

“So beautiful, love… I don’t know what I did to deserve such a handsome and well behaved good boy…”

A swell of hot pride and arousal at being called ‘your good boy’ bubbles in Erwin, the praise going straight to his dick as he wraps his arms tight around you.

“I’m so lucky to have you, ma’am, not the other way around… thank you for seeing me, for being here with me, for loving me. After all the things I have allowed and done for humanity, I know that I’m hardly worthy of this, of you, and yet I find myself so deeply enraptured by you, I’m unable to function without your presence.”

Now that sure as hell got your blood pumping as you leaned in and began pressing a flurry of kisses to his cheeks and nose, Erwin all but melting into a pile of lovey goo. Slowly, you began to press small and heated kisses down the side of his neck, letting your teeth snag on heated skin and relishing in the small stutters of air that escaped his parted lips.

“Ma’am, please, right there! Oh- Please!~”

You knew exactly where he was talking about. Erwin’s sweet spot was located on his upper neck, just under his ear and towards his nape, a fact that you often found yourself abusing whenever he was within reach of your teeth. Running your hand through his disheveled hair, you found yourself giving in to his whims and sinking your teeth in deep, the sharp bones creating ravishing bursts of red and purple not unlike a painter creating art on a canvas. Pitiful mewls more musical than the finest orchestra graced your ears between breathless cries of gratitude as you gave the newly formed bite a tender kiss.

“Oh, thank you, thank you, ma’am… it feels so good… thank you….”

To Erwin, being between your jaws as they tore at his flesh was nothing short of paradise, the fact that you would choose to mark him of all people with bite marks that would last for days inducing in him an intoxicating blend of obedience, love, and arousal.

Placing one last kiss to the tip of his nose, you stand up despite the quiet protests that emanated from your beloved as you coax him onto the couch in his study.

“Come here, sweetheart… let me see you, pretty boy.”

A soft huff of amusement left you as you witnessed the tall man scramble to get up, uncharacteristically panting and stumbling over himself like a three-legged dog before finally coming to a halt in front of you.

“Where and how would you prefer me, ma’am?”

“On your back over my lap. But first, go ahead and take off your bottoms for me, love.”

You can’t help the soft giggle that escapes you as you watch Erwin’s hands tremble, wrenching so hard at the fabric of his pants and boxers that most would have thought they were burning him alive. You smiled amusedly as you caught Erwin subconsciously attempting to hide his (rather large) arousal with his hands, not missing the way his eyes followed your own as they went to remove your shirt and bra, nor missing the small whimper that left his throat once your breasts had been freed from their confines. It had always been a favorite action of his to smother himself in your chest when the sun set and he was free of the days intensive labor. As comedic as it was, you legitimately had to remind him to come up for air, lest he suffocate.

“All right, sweetheart. On my lap.”

“Yes, ma’am. Thank you, ma’am.”

Carefully, out of fear of accidentally hurting you, Erwin moved to lay his broad back over your thighs and felt himself subconsciously nuzzle against the pudgy, soft skin of your stomach. A keen left his throat as he felt your hand gently cradle the back of his head, your other smoothing over the expanse of his chest languidly as you took in the feeling of his muscled torso. In your eyes, Erwin was nothing short of a heavenly vision laid bare for you, fingers gently tracing over full pecs and quivering abs, paying no mind to the little aborted thrusts of his hips as you knew he was trying to be good for you. He always was.

“Ma’am, please… may I…”

Ocean eyes stared up at you pleadingly as a giggle came unbidden from your mouth. Erwin was always shy when it came to making requests of a sexual nature.

“May you please what, Erwin? Be a good boy for me and use your words like I taught you.”

“M-My apologies, ma’am. May I suck your breasts? Please?”

“Of course, honey~ Such a good boy for using your words…”

Gently stroking his hair, you move his head into proper position and immediately feel him latch on to your breast, rough hands gently cupping your chest and trying to pull you impossibly closer. Erwin’s eyes flutter closed as a small whimper of relief escapes him, his tongue hungrily lapping at your nipple and his cock twitching from where it lay on his belly; oozing a steady stream of precum and his tip a beautiful shade of red. You feel him gently palm at your chest, his hands caressing the skin and marveling at the way the pudgy tissue is hardly contained by his fingers

“So handsome for me, Erwin… I’m so proud to call you mine…”

Opening his eyes to look at you, Erwin felt tears swiftly collect on his waterline and overflow en mass down his cheeks. He wanted to say that he was the lucky one, that he was so undeserving and unworthy of your love and touch after everything he had done and put others through… instead, all that comes out is a muffled sob as his sucking becomes more intense, the vibrations around your nipple pulling a small pleased hum from your throat. Moving your hand down, you softly scrape your nails through the dark honey colored hairs around his shaft and balls; relishing in the little buck of his hips and the broken moan that reverberates against your skin.

“I can tell what you’re thinking you know… and I want you to know it’s not true. You are deserving of all I give you and you’re such a good boy, no matter your opinion. I love you, and nothing will ever change that.”

Another broken sob comes from your love followed by his neglected dick twitching pitifully against his muscled tummy, the appendage practically weeping for you like its owner; who searches to grab at your hand that’s resting under his head. Giving him a small smile, you adjust yourself so you can hold Erwin’s hand and keep him on your breast at the same time, relishing in the small sniffle of relief it pulls from him as his eyes flutter closed again despite the tears leaking out from behind his lids.

“Such a good boy, so, so, so good for me, Erwin…”

To emphasize your point, you allow your fingertips to gently trace up the underside of his shaft, feeling along the vein that runs from his tip to his sack. It’s pleasurable torture to Erwin, the touch so light and ticklish yet maddening stimulating that he can feel himself jump. Finally, you wrap your hand around his cock, beginning to stroke him at a languid pace and watching as his heavy thighs twitch. It’s obvious he’s trying to keep himself in line and stop his hips from humping into your hand like a puppy in heat, his fingers tightening around yours as his small cries are muffled by your breast.

“There we go… feels a lot better now, hm?~”

Opening his teary blue orbs and nodding his head, Erwin found himself lovingly looking deep into your eyes with blurry vision as his back arched in pleasure. His broad chest was positively heaving as your fingers spread rivers of his own precum against his overheated flesh to slick him up, making your movements seamless as lewd wet sounds filled the room to make his head spin in the best possible way.

Letting go of his cock and ignoring his broken whine, you run your hand lower to fondle his balls, feeling their weight in your palm as you give them a gentle squeeze.

“You’re doing so good letting me give you what you need, sweetheart. Always so pretty when you’re all fucked out…”

Chuckling softly at the frantic roll of his hips your praise got out of him, you give his balls one last squeeze before going back to stroking him, picking up the pace as Erwin’s toes curl, the pleasure making him feel as if he’s been electrocuted ten times over. More tears stream from his eyes, both of relief and of pure, ever reverent love. The kind of love that sears through his jagged edges and holds him together, the kind of love that encases his heart in a suit of gold, that keeps him going despite the odds and the despair that threatens to overtake him every day. The thought makes his cock feel like it’s about to burst, pulsing in your hand as he feels his muscles draw up and flex. As if reading his mind, your voice speaks in a soft murmur;

“Go ahead, love. I want you to cum for me.”

That was all it took. One last keen left his lips as his body spasmed, hips humping uncontrollably into the tight tunnel of your fist before waves of pleasure crashed into him so intensely he could have sworn he was drowning. Continuing to work him through his orgasm, you watch lovingly as hot, thick ropes of cum spill out of him so hard that it almost reaches his chest, the pearlescent liquid glimmering in the candlelight. Feeling his cock give a few more throbs as he drains his balls onto his tummy, you gently unwrap your hand from around him to rub soothing shapes on his thighs.

“You did so good for me tonight, Erwin… I’m so proud of you…”

Finally finding the willpower to pull his mouth away from your tits, Erwin gazes up at you with adoring eyes and murmurs lowly;

“Thank you, beloved… thank you for letting me be yours, thank you for loving me…”

Gingerly helping him sit up, you grab the towel you had brought with his dinner beforehand and start to wipe him up as he nuzzles into you, placing soft kisses against your skin as he leans into your shoulder.

It was here that he felt most safe, cradled in your arms like he was something precious. You were his sanctuary, the only place he truly felt he could be forgiven and cleansed of the blood that coated his conscious so thoroughly, and he would be damned if he didn’t submit himself to kneel at your altar as soon as the opportunity presented itself. This was where he belonged, this is where he sought solace. Here with you.

His most dearly beloved.

[seikilos-stele]

Izzy, Ed, and Saying “I’m Sorry”

I saw a post recently that said Ed’s apology (“sorry about your leg”) was fine actually, because that’s just how Ed and Izzy are, it’s just how they talk.

So I wanted to stress: that’s how Ed is. That’s not how Izzy is.

When Izzy apologizes, it’s: “I said some things I regret last night. I don’t think you’re a shell of a man or a twat.” And: “Ed, I’m sorry. I’ve been terrible to you. I fed your darkness. Blackbeard. For years I egged him on even though I knew you’d outgrown him.”

In S1 and S2 we see how izzy apologizes. He acknowledges his wrongdoing in specific “I” statements — “I did THIS, and I regret it,” “I did THIS, and it was a terrible thing to do.” When Ed apologizes it’s “Sorry about your leg.” Not “Sorry for what I did to your leg,” and no eye contact.

Some people think that Izzy’s response, “Fuck off,” is evidence that he doesn’t accept Ed’s apology, but I disagree — I do think Izzy accepted. I think it’s the most he’s ever gotten from Ed and he knows he’s not going to get anything better. Ed himself says he’s never apologized before, and only does it (not to Izzy but to the crew) when Stede makes him.

It’s worth analyzing how the two apologies are treated by the narrative as well. When Ed apologizes, all is forgiven; he gets his crew (“Ed, they love you”), he gets his lover and his happy ending. For Izzy, the narrative isn’t so kind. In one case, his apology is met with deceit from Ed — to prevent Izzy from further apologizing (by leaving the ship) Blackbeard lies to Izzy and says he plans to kill Stede, then maneuvers Izzy into doing it for him. Only to let Izzy be banished, because he never really wanted Stede dead in the first place. To recap, Izzy is mean to Ed in private; he gives a sincere, unprompted apology the next morning and tries to repent by leaving the ship; he is narratively punished with a humiliating duel and banishment.

In S2, Izzy apologizes to the crew by protecting them from the Kraken, and he IS narratively rewarded for this. His wordless apology results in love from the crew, acceptance, and support. It’s worth noting that we never see Ed make the same concerted effort to change his behavior. Stede tries to push Ed into it, but Ed resists — he rolls his eyes, he treats it as a joke, and he tries to convince his crew that they actually enjoyed being tortured. This is very different from Izzy, who quietly changes his ways without being forced or prompted.

In the finale, Izzy apologizes for feeding Ed’s darkness and absolves Ed for the way he mutilated Izzy in the S1 finale and first two episodes of S2. These mutilations are physical acts including multiple amputations and forced auto-cannibalism; Izzy still bears the scar from his suicide attempt following the final and most severe amputation. Izzy gives a high-quality apology for his mean words (“namby pamby in a silk gown pining for his boyfriend,” “I serve Blackbeard, not Edward. Edward better watch his step.”) Ed doesn’t apologize for choking Izzy, for cutting off his toes and feeding them to him, for shooting him or for goading him into suicide; he certainly doesn’t apologize for lying to him back in S1 about Stede. As we all know, while Izzy dies, Ed doesn’t apologize at all. Izzy gets only one apology from Ed in S2. It’s a low-quality apology vaguely referencing Izzy’s leg, without taking responsibility for it. Ed’s apology is the same distant statement of pity that we might hear from Lucius or Black Pete upon noticing that Izzy is disabled. “Sorry about your leg” — not as in “I’m sorry for what I did,” but as in, “Wow, it sucks that that happened to you. And it has nothing to do with me.”

It’s made worse by the fact that Ed can’t just apologize to Izzy. It’s Izzy who approaches Ed, awkwardly extending the olive branch. Ed rebukes Izzy for avoiding him and makes a judgmental comment about Izzy’s recent uptick in drinking, then seeks out Izzy’s reassurance/comfort (“It feels like a storm’s coming…”). Izzy refuses to give Ed the comfort he seeks, and it’s clear that this bothers Ed; it’s a departure from their usual dynamic.

Ed has to work up to an apology over the course of a brief conversation where the first thing he does is subtly reprimands Izzy for avoiding him. Ed’s priority is not to say he’s sorry; it’s to make sure Izzy knows Ed is upset about the silent treatment and then to seek comfort for Ed’s own emotional turmoil. Contrast this with both Izzy’s apologies: in S1, when Ed approaches him, Izzy squares his shoulders and apologizes right away. There’s no waffling about it; it’s clearly been weighing on his mind, and he needs to say he’s sorry before the conversation veers elsewhere. In S2, Izzy is literally dying; he asks Ed to stay with him, and then launches directly into his apology. There are no insults; there’s no cattiness; he doesn’t try to make Ed feel bad for being hurt.

Conclusion:

There’s a world of difference between Izzy’s apologies and Ed’s. The first difference is in the quality. The second difference is in how the narrative treats them. Ed’s low-quality apologies are rewarded. Izzy’s higher-quality apologies are punished with banishment and death.

[hplonesomeart]

Hey!! So turns out a video I made between a certain “well beloved but highly sensitive/emotionally reactive T.V” and an “orange haired inkling-turned-human” has managed to sweep my YouTube channel and accumulate 100k VIEWS!! THAT’S A LOT OF PEOPLE ACTUALLY?? My most widely viewed video EVER to exist in this moment in time?? AAAAA?? Not even mentioning the various comments and staggering increase in subs! It’s so much more then what I expected or even prepared for—might even be the most impactful thing to happen for me this year <3

…aside from graduating high school + the social connections I’ve been fortunate to make lol

BUT THE POINT IS I’d been closely monitoring the YouTube growth through the entirety of October. It’s make me smile like a dork, gawk in astonishment, dance frantically in my room from the energy boosts, and grow courage to stop being so selective/self-conscious with what I wish to share with the world! It’s kept my ambitions going!

I needed to find some way to celebrate the occasion and express my thanks—because I can’t NOT acknowledge this milestone jksjskp. Typically I try to avoid getting tunnel visioned focusing on the metrics/numbers. Mr. Puzzles had already demonstrated how much those things can mess with the minds of creatives. Caring too much about chasing views or placing your artistic value in attention seeking gets damaging. But at same time…it’s hard to deny the sense of pride the 100k achievement has filled me with. I understand that reaching 100k views doesn’t immediately make me any “better” or “worse” then I was before. I’m still just me! It only helps me feel seen by others—and that’s all I really needed. To hear some nice words & receive reminders that my ideas are cared about. So thank you SMG4 fandom for that, seriously thank you.

Please accept this Mr. Puzzle drawing as a way of sharing the happiness around. He’s so entertaining. Love him for simply existing. So glad we can all collectively be super attached to him (and the rest of the SMG4 cast of course). Can’t wait to see more incredible artworks from the fandom :)

Just incase anyone is confused by my vague description over which “animated video” I’m referring to here—hopefully this photo will help clarify lol. It’s this one!! Sorry about not outright stating the title at the start, I got carried away with writing!!

I’ve been in an odd place mentally when thinking about it. Wondering to myself if any of the attention is deserved considering it’s not even fully colored and could be dismissed as “low effort” content (despite taking several days making it). It’s easy to get into a trap of comparing yourself to others and questioning how much of the videos success is based on your skills, sheer algorithm luck, or only because you used popular characters and catered to a specific fandom. And then judging yourself by looking at other peoples videos. I’ve seen several artists post higher quality works then my own but it somehow gets less views. So why did mine succeed when others (who should have gotten just as much attention if not more) didn’t? Sometimes you feel like you’ve unfairly robbed them of that chance to be seen. However I’ve realized that I can’t ever expect views to be consistent—and comparing is pointless. So why worry about it or feel inadequate? I mean it’s pretty common for funny cat videos to go viral, so who am I to question the system lol. “Popular” YouTube videos can range from a passion project which took 7+ artists…to a clip of Toad singing Chandelier or a nonsensical Vine sketch. Anything can happen when it’s the internet! And just-so-happened my video was chosen. I should stay glad about that and get rid of all the overanalyzing. So that’s what I’ve chosen to do :)

[siilvan]

soap headcanons

characters: johnny “soap” mactavish

summary: general/romantic headcanons!

genre: fluff, gn!reader (no desc.)

warnings: none! :)

note: been dealing with a lot recently, so here’s a low effort fluffy headcanon post with one of my favorite boys— i know it’s bad, but i just threw it together while fighting off sleep and didn’t bother to proofread it </3

his love languages are physical touch and acts of service.

⋆ as i’ve said before, it’s no secret that soap is a touchy guy, especially with the people he likes.

⋆ that being said, a casual high-five or side hug is vastly different from the way he touches you. instead of friendly taps and sarcastic banter, there’s a certain fondness in his gaze whenever he reaches for you.

⋆ doesn’t bother hiding his favoritism. if you or anyone else comments on it, he simply shrugs off the claim and drapes an arm across your shoulders. "i think you’re just jealous of 'em," is what most people hear after bringing it up.

⋆ big on acts of service as well!! soap loves doing things for you, no matter how big or small it may be. never demands acknowledgement or repayment for his acts, either - your comfort and happiness are his top priorities.

⋆ getting up early to surprise you with breakfast in bed, running to the store when you need something, handling the household chores so you can sleep in… soap takes every chance he can get to help out.

⋆ if you’re both in the 141, he revels in getting to do things for you while in the field, even after price and ghost chastise him for focusing on you too much. if you’re a civilian, however, soap can’t help but feel guilty every time he leaves you. knowing that you’ll potentially be without him for months, worrying and wondering when he’ll return, having to do everything on your own; the mere thought of it makes him hold you that much tighter every single night.

when he loves, he loves hard.

⋆ soap is a passionate guy, both at work and in his personal life. when he loves someone, he does it with his whole heart and soul. his love is all-consuming and full of warmth, just like the man himself.

⋆ there were plenty of sleepless nights before he confessed to you, hours spent obsessing over what to say and what to do, desperately trying to figure out how to express his feelings. drawings of you filled the pages of his journal– some were more refined, with great care put into each detail, while others were sketches that he snuck in after assignments, when you were too exhausted to notice his eyes flicking between you and the charcoal-covered page.

⋆ if you’re ever in danger, pity the fool that put you there. this man would move heaven and earth for you without a second thought or a single complaint, and there is nothing on this planet that could possibly prevent him from doing so.

⋆ leading off of that– soap is very protective. not unbearably so, he’s not the type of guy to control you or treat you like some kind of property, but he will take any opportunity he can to care for and protect you. he basically appoints himself as your personal bodyguard, regardless of how capable you may be.

⋆ simple things like holding your hand, guiding you through crowds, walking on the outside of the sidewalk, giving you his jacket, and calling or texting you to check in is his bread and butter. if he can’t physically be with you, chances are you’ll end up with someone he trusts by your side. he knows first-hand how dangerous the world is, and soap has no plans of letting you be put in harm’s way.

he is a massive flirt.

⋆ look me in the eyes and tell me he doesn’t know how attractive he is. i’m not saying that soap is a cocky bastard - far from it, in fact - but he’s well aware of the effect he has on people.

⋆ once he discovers something you like, he utterly abuses it. your eyes linger on him whenever he braces himself against the doorframe? well, suddenly it’s the most comfortable way to stand! your mind wanders off to a certain place when he speaks to you in a low voice? my, my… he just remembered another story that he simply must tell.

⋆ once he’s sure that the feelings are mutual, soap is bold. cornering you just to whisper sweet nothings in your ear, placing a hand on your knee or thigh just to watch you squirm, casually slipping cheeky remarks and subtle innuendos into your conversations in front of the team. if you respond in kind? even better. he’d love to go back and forth, to challenge you and see who breaks first.

⋆ unsurprisingly, his resolve crumbles first. despite his confidence and desperate attempts to break you, all it takes is a single ghosting of your lips against his to send him over the edge.

⋆ it’s nigh-impossible to not be confident while in this relationship. soap loves, loves, loves complimenting you at every chance. it doesn’t matter how you look or how you feel; you’re always attractive in his eyes. if you ever try to disagree with him, he’ll just grin and shake his head with a simple, "none o' that, love. you’re perfect just like this."

taglist: @sofasoap , @rohansregret

[heyclickadee]

This is a pointless rant, but I wish there were actual archaeology edutainment shows the same way that paleontology has with things like Prehistoric Planet and Walking With Dinosaurs or zoology has with Planet Earth and so many nature documentaries. I mean, no, things like that aren’t completely accurate, they’re compressed and simplified to be entertaining but they’re still trying to present a picture that’s representative of some kind of consensus. They’re still based on something.

Any tv program that brings up archaeology, though, it’s all pseudoarchaeology all the time. Ancient aliens and “alternative theories” and whatnot. The only show I’ve ever seen that even nodded in the direction of actual archaeology was Expedition Unknown, and it really did just nod (usually covering the same kind of sensationalist material as the ancient aliens type shows before going “yeah that’s bullshit but the real archaeology is way more interesting” at the conclusion of every episode, which was nice) for a while before going off in more and more of a pure treasure hunting direction as the show went on. And nothing else I’ve found even does so much as nod.

Just. Something that goes into actual methodology. Different theoretical frameworks. Typology. The ways even good methodologies can be used to support monstrous ideological frameworks or propaganda (for example: some of the most meticulously done fieldwork of the 1930’s was being done by, yes, nazi archaeologists. You can guess what they twisted their interpretations to support). Experimental archaeology. Hell, just that—a mythbusters style experimental archaeology series that tries to be fun without ever resorting to pseudoscience.

The reason I kind of want this is because the average person has very little understanding of how anyone in the premodern era lived. It was about ten years ago that my mom and I went to a traveling exhibit on Pompeii at a local museum, and she was flabbergasted at how, I don’t know, “modern” some of the artifacts were. And not the larger stuff: she didn’t think about anybody before about 1500 having plates or baskets or…clothes somehow. She knew intellectually that they must have, but it was different seeing it. It was hard for her to picture them just living life.

That’s something I used to run into a lot back when I studied and very, very briefly did archaeology. People in general have a tendency to see people from other times as fundamentally different, but they’re just us, displaced by time. And it would be nice to find an accessible way to show that.

The other reason I want something like that is because there’s sort of a misunderstanding of what archaeology is and why it’s important. You tell someone you’re an archaeologist and nine times out of ten they’re going to ask you what your favorite dinosaur is. And, I mean, I get it, dinosaurs are cool, I love dinosaurs, I was whatever the dinosaur equivalent of a horse girl was as a kid and never really grew out of it, I reblog dinosaur posts on here all the time and basically never talk about archaeology at all, but paleontology is a totally different field that does its own thing and archaeologists don’t study dinosaurs. And besides the whole public education aspect, I feel like people are more likely to support funding for researching something when they know that the science actually is. Or we’d hope.

I don’t know, I just would love for there to be a way to teach people about different bits of archaeology that was low effort and entertaining enough to compete with the flood of programs trying to convince everyone that ufos built Stonehenge.

[tigerjolteo]

— support from the sidelines

tora izumi x kei tsukishima

summary: kei is a bigger fan than he lets on. content: fluff — pretty soft kei — starts pre-timeskip and ends post-timeskip — featured yamahito — mentioned timeskip!keiji akaashi word count: 4.8k

author's note: i had a lot of feelings about the idea of tsukki being the most die-hard fan of tora's manga series as it goes on but he just refuses to let her know bc it's lowk embarrassing but she doesn't mind bc she's honestly lowk embarrassed at him seeing her stuff. i also hope my vision for his fuckass shelf was understood LOL

masterlist — ao3

“You published something?”

Tora felt her face flush at the sudden query from Kei, who was lazing on her bed on the other side of the room. Swivelling in her chair, she saw how he held his phone in front of him, though his hazel eyes were fixed squarely on her. He must have seen the (rare) post she made on her social media, promoting said publication. Well, to call it a ‘publication’ was brave - all she did was start properly creating the manga she’d had simmering in her head for the past few years, and on a whim she decided to post it online for people to read. It wasn’t exactly groundbreaking, but she thought that maybe putting it out there would finally push her to keep it going instead of endlessly rewriting it in her head.

“It’s, uh… nothing special.” She rubbed the back of her neck. “I’ve been thinking about it all year, and since we’re on break, I figured, why not? Might as well give it a shot.”

“Are you gonna survive when school starts up again?” The smirk that played on his lips was one that she had learnt was only slightly condescending when it was directed at her. In fact, it was a sight she’d quickly come to like, for it added an edge to his already attractive features that Tora found hard to ignore. The only thing that stopped her from getting lost in admiring his face again were his next words. “It’s only gonna get tougher and tougher from here, you know?”

“I’ll be fine, I know my priority is meant to be school, or whatever.” She waved a hand dismissively and swiveled back to her desk, where her tablet displayed the rough storyboard of her next chapter. “It’s not like I have some strict update schedule or anything. That’s the beauty of doing it for myself; low stakes, no pressure.”

Kei hummed in response, clearly unimpressed, as he returned his attention to his phone. For a moment, the room was filled only with the faint buzz of the ceiling fan. Then, Tora heard a buzzing from her own phone, and she looked to its screen to see that Kei had reposted her announcement. Rivalling the speed of light she once again spun her chair around, eyes wide and smile growing.

“Kei!”

He was already lying on his stomach, face half-buried in her pillow, still scrolling on his phone. “What?”

Tora’s grin was uncontrollable. “You didn’t have to-”

“Yeah, yeah,” he cut her off, waving a hand lazily in the air, though his next words held enough quiet sincerity that Tora couldn’t help turning back to her tablet with a newfound vigour:

“...Good luck.”

Having an ongoing series was tiring, but it was probably the greatest thing Tora had ever started doing for herself. Sure, she didn’t have a massive readership or anything - after all, she’d only been releasing chapters monthly for four months - but the modest following she’d gained was more than enough to keep her motivated. It was a pleasant surprise to have any supporters at all, and she was grateful that her efforts weren’t going unnoticed.

She’d only explicitly told a handful of people, namely Hitomi, Shouyou and Kenji. Shouyou and Kenji were happy for her, though Hitomi was unexpectedly ecstatic on her behalf, and the information had then spread to Tadashi. Well, one additional person knowing about her little passion project was no problem, but she wasn’t sure what she was going to do if anyone else on the volleyball club happened to find out. She didn’t go by her real name online, and it’s not like she went around telling people about her work, so hypothetically it should be fine… it’d just be a little awkward for her.

(Sugawara had almost instantly found out and sent her a flurry of congratulatory messages. Despite his support and his graduation months prior, it still felt like she was being cheered on by a slightly overbearing mother. Daichi’s approval and Asahi’s reassurance that followed only reinforced the notion.)

The sudden weight of a hand on her notebook yanked her from her musings. Tora startled, her pen skidding off the page and leaving a jagged line across her latest sketch. Her eyes shot to the hand - long fingers, bony knuckles - then trailed up the arm to meet Kei’s unimpressed gaze.

“The bell’s rung, dumbass. It’s time for practice,” he said, flicking her forehead (very) gently with his other hand. “You’re lucky I saw you through the window.”

“Whoops?” Tora offered a sheepish smile, but before she could fumble out an excuse, Kei tilted his head, his eyes scanning the notebook he’d just covered.

“Drawing, again?” There was no hint of condescension or mockery in his tone, or at least none that was obvious to her. Tora didn’t know what to do whilst his eyes scanned her book, doodles and concept sketches in place of notes and actual useful information, while all she could do was sit there and tap her fingers awkwardly against the desk. She couldn’t help herself when it came to drawing in class, because more often than not it did help her tune into what her teacher was saying if she just stopped herself from getting overly immersed in her own little world. Sketching out rough ideas for a storyboard or redrawing the same character over and over again were typically what she opted for doing, though if she wasn’t careful she’d get a little too caught up in the inconsistencies of her own art.

Still, it was better than nothing, as dissatisfied as she was with the messiness of her concepts. She wondered why, of all the days Kei had come to snap her out of her little artistic daze, just then was when he decided to act a little more interested in her drawings… especially since they were very unorganised.

“Uh- y-yeah. I kinda understood the section that the teacher was talking about already, so I thought it’d be fine…” she mumbled, ignoring the thought and starting to put away the rest of her stationary so that they could leave for the volleyball club.

Kei’s lips showed the faintest smirk. “No way, did you actually do the assigned reading?”

“No.” For some reason, she responded like she was offended at the notion before she scoffed quietly and finally picked up her book from the desk, quickly shoving it into her bag. “I… watched a video summarising it…”

Kei’s laugh was a lot more hearty, supposedly at how shamefully she’d muttered her response. Tora was ready to huff in his face and head to the gymnasium herself, though realistically he’d be able to catch up to her within seconds…

“Well, that’s fine too.” Before she could react, there was a brief touch to the top of her head, and by the time she blinked, Kei was already making his way out of the classroom. As if someone held a lighter up to her cheeks, her face flushed with a heat she tried to ignore while jogging after her boyfriend, who was tauntingly calling out for her to catch up. She couldn’t quite place what he was thinking, which was par for the course, but maybe she’d saved herself from his iconic tongue click of disapproval with the fact that, at the very least, she bothered to sit down and watch a video about the history behind the usage of a handful of proverbs.

Tora found it nothing to be proud of, though admittedly it was a cool tidbit of information to know. Maybe she could use it somewhere in her manga; make a character that regularly incorporates proverbs in their speech, or create some sort of mystery using the meanings of different ones…

“Were you drawing Hasumi?”

Kei’s voice was quiet, but not inaudible. It didn’t sound like he was trying to keep it particularly hushed either, but Tora took a few hurried steps ahead to get closer to him. In those seconds, she gasped at a realisation she felt stupid for not recognising even a split second earlier.

“...You know about Hasumi?!” She whisper-cried out, since they were walking through the hallways where students were still lingering or slowly trickling out of their classrooms. She grabbed onto his sleeve and started lightly tugging with incessant fervour. Kei’s demeanour didn’t falter as he kept looking straight ahead, but Tora wasn’t blind to the slight dust of pink right on the surface of his cheeks.

“He was mentioned in chapter three… Hayase’s twin brother, right?”

Ah, she felt as if she could die happy right then and there. It was such a small detail she’d added in that update, that Hayase had a twin brother working in a different industry, but she hadn’t shown his face at all, nor was it the kind of mention that served as any sort of teaser for the character. The fact that Kei managed to pick up on and remember that fact was bound to do wonders for her heart and soul, especially since it proved one thing…

“What? What’s up with you?” Kei finally looked down at her when she could do nothing but stare at him with her mouth slightly agape.

“Y-You… you read my…”

“It’s not a big deal,” he interrupted quickly, brushing her hand off his sleeve only to take it in his own. His grip was firm but gentle, grounding her in the midst of her astonishment. “I mean, I’m just another reader, right?”

“Do you like it?”

“Yeah, it’s-” He seemed to catch himself for a second, clearing his throat and avoiding her expectant gaze. “...It’s not bad.”

“Aw, no need to be shy, Kei. You can tell me you’re my biggest fan!” Tora cooed, hugging his arm tightly to her body, causing him to momentarily lose his balance due to their staggering difference in height. He let out a curt sigh. 

“Yeah, right. Don’t let it get to your head.” There was another (equally gentle) flick to her forehead, to which Tora reacted with a dramatic noise of hurt, before she giggled and resumed her hold. Oh, she was certainly going to let it get to her head. If Kei didn’t want to fully admit to being a fan, that was honestly fine by her, but it was an undeniable fact that he read her work. The thought alone made her giddy, a newfound energy pulsing in her veins that she wasn’t sure if volleyball could help to expel, and with a slight tug she started practically skipping towards the gym, ignoring his protests along the way.

“Oh, your last chapter got a lot of traction!” Tadashi gleefully held his phone up to her face, with the latest post she’d made about Surrection clear on his screen. Tora was surprised with herself for being able to keep it going strong for a bit over the past year, but thankfully she wasn’t planning on getting into any fancy university, plus she had Hitoka to share volleyball club manager duties with, so more often than not she found had just enough time to work on it. Amidst her friends there weren’t many who were regular readers, but they were immensely supportive regardless, and even for that she was extremely grateful.

“Wow, that’s… unexpected,” she laughed, plucking a slightly overcooked slice of beef from the bubbling hot pot with her chopsticks. Steam curled upward in lazy spirals, carrying the rich aroma of simmering broth. Her latest update wasn’t anything groundbreaking in her mind, just the start of a major conflict involving one of the series’ fan-favourite characters. But seeing Tadashi so enthusiastic definitely made her chest swell with pride.

“What do you mean? Surrection is awesome, so I’m hyped about people noticing it!” Tadashi exclaimed, almost bouncing in his seat. His energy drew a small smile from Hitomi, who had scooped a helping of vegetables into his bowl with practiced ease.

“You seem much more excited than she is,” Kei pointed out flatly. Tadashi jolted at the remark, looking as though he were about to tumble into a flurry of apologies, but then he caught himself, laughed it off, and waved a dismissive hand in Kei’s direction - only to notice Hitomi’s silent gesture of generosity. With a yelp, he scrambled to repay the favour, hastily piling ingredients into her bowl in a way that was truthfully more chaotic than helpful.

“I agree with Tadashi, though,” Hitomi said, giggling as she poked at her now precariously stacked bowl. “I’m really happy for you, Tora. The attention your work is getting is well-deserved. Your story is amazing, and the art is stunning.”

Tora hadn’t prepared herself for such a compliment that all she could do was giggle awkwardly and bow her head as she prompted Tadashi for the ladle. 

“I’m especially interested in the relationship between Sakuya and Ibara. I’ve seen a lot of theories about how they met, though I’m not set on one…” Concerningly, Tadashi’s smile lifted with a hint of mischief.

Oh lord.

“But of course, I’m looking forward to seeing what Koko Izumida has in store!”

Tora reflexively cringed at the usage of her pen name by someone she knew, groaning loudly and trying to drown out Tadashi’s laughter (accompanied with Kei’s terrible attempts at hiding his own snickering) by taking a long sip of sake. Of course, it didn’t actually bother her, but it was still embarrassing to hear it said out loud.

Most of the time, she found ways to dodge or deflect whenever people connected her to the identity she’d built online. Still, it amazed her how few classmates had figured it out. With Surrection gaining readers, she thought more people would have put two and two together, but she supposed she was lucky that it hadn’t reached more people around her. Her choice of pen name wasn’t exactly subtle or brilliant after all, yet somehow, for now, her secret remained safe.

“Are you gonna try and get it serialized?” The sudden query from Hitomi brought her back to reality. Tora would be lying if she said she hadn’t thought of getting Surrection picked up by a publisher. It would be a dream come true, to be able to spread her series to a new, wider audience, to be able to physically open a book and have her art be all over the pages. Yet, at the same time, it was quite the terrifying thought. After all, if that happened, everything would change; she wouldn’t just be some online nobody uploading their work for fun. There would be new responsibilities, deadlines, expectations. Somehow, the thought of having her work process be part of some contractual obligation made it feel a thousand times more overwhelming.

But… that’s what I’m meant to be working towards, right?

“It’d be nice if that happened,” she said honestly, blowing on the piece of meat she’d initially picked out of the pot before popping it into her mouth, savouring the flavour with a delighted hum. After chewing thoughtfully, she swallowed with a shrug. “But I’m pretty happy with the way things are right now. More people are coming to me for commissions, so… I mean, it’s already kinda like running a business in my own way.”

“How modern the world is nowadays,” Hitomi mused with a wistful sigh, and Kei failed at suppressing a laugh, earning him a sharp look from Tora. Though, she couldn’t hold it for long - she wanted to scold him (lightheartedly, of course), but she couldn’t help giggling quietly herself. Hitomi was evidently confused, looking between them with a small frown on her face, but Tora quickly cleared her throat, trying to stifle her amusement.

“Sorry, sorry, i-it’s just… you sound like a grandma, or something.”

“Huh? R-Really?!” Hitomi practically cried out, turning to Tadashi in her moment of devastation. Unfortunately, his poorly concealed smile betrayed him, and Hitomi's troubled look turned into a pout of indignation. She snatched a piece of meat from his bowl in retaliation, Tadashi now apologising profusely despite the corners of his lips twitching upwards between words.

“You should try.”

Tora turned to look at Kei, who had just at that moment raised a spoonful of broth to his mouth, so it was a few agonising seconds before he said anything else. Though, once he put his spoon down, he raised a brow upon noticing the others’ eyes all on him.

“...What?”

“That… was that it?” Tora said.

“Yeah?” Kei slowly dipped his spoon into his bowl again. “Do I need to say anything else?”

Tora’s head flicked between him and the couple across from them, gesturing as if Kei was insane. His support had always come bluntly and without warning, but he’d never really pushed her. Over the months he’d established himself more so as a net waiting to catch her if anything happened, instead of a wind carrying her forward, so hearing him tell her to actually go and do something…

“I’ll try my best!” She exclaimed proudly, a little louder than any of them were probably expecting, and Kei quickly shot her a look that was screaming at her to keep her voice down. Unbothered and beaming brightly, Tora reached up to lightly pinch his ear before putting a few more slices of beef into the hot pot for everyone.

“Akaashi is your editor?”

Tora nodded with an affirmative hum as clicked to enlarge Kei's camera feed, letting out a small captivated sigh at seeing a familiar face, albeit just a little bit blurry and bathed in awkward room lighting. Kei seemed like he was about to toss out another question, before his gaze darted to his own screen. His brows furrowed.

“Stop looking at me like that,” he said with what Tora has learned to only describe as a scowl of endearment.

“What? I miss you,” Tora replied without missing a beat.

“We called last night. And the night before that.”

She shrugged. “There’s a quota you need to meet.”

“...Anyways.” Kei sighed almost theatrically, but Tora could hear him quietly snicker before returning his focus down to what she could only assume was a textbook. Ever the studious one, she thought. ”I didn’t know he worked at Weekly Shonen Vai. Didn’t pin him as the type who’d like sifting through manga for a living.”

Tora laughed, looking down to her own half-completed storyboards and pulling off her artist glove, flapping it around to air it a bit. “I was surprised too. And I don’t think he particularly likes or dislikes it, but he did tell me he actually wanted to be in literature, so I kinda feel bad for him…” Her words softened into a thoughtful hum. Akaashi’s expression at the time was masked in a politeness that Tora couldn’t read, though maybe it was only because they had known each other years prior did she manage to catch the flicker of disappointment across his features when he’d told her the reality of his career.

Kei snorted, but whatever attempt he made to stifle his amusement was short-lived. A laugh burst out of him as he leaned back in his chair, twirling a pencil in his fingers.

“I can only imagine how Akaashi would feel if he heard that the underclassmen he advised was laughing at his predicament…” Tora raised a brow, slipping the glove back on her hand before resuming her sketches. She didn’t miss the quiet clearing of his throat as he slowly regained his composure.

“I can only imagine how he’d feel if he heard that the artist he’s working with was gossiping about him behind his back,” Kei shot back with a mock smugness that made Tora roll her eyes.

“Don’t try to turn this on me. It’s not like it’s a secret I had to pry out of him.”

“You feel bad for him, though. That’s basically pitying him, right?”

It had been a few years now - Tora was more than used to Kei’s attempts at picking petty little battles he didn’t really intend on fighting. She’d grown adept at recognising when his stubbornness was just a facade, the way he used his jabs like a lifeline to preserve his pride. She didn’t exactly feel like bickering, having just found a rather good flow with her work, so she let out a soft sigh.

“He has to read my work in its roughest form, so yeah, I do feel bad for him,” she quipped with a smile. “Like, imagine sitting through that.”

Granted, she’d been working with Akaashi for the past month, and he’d only shared some helpful observations on a couple of panels at a time, which was usually the extent of his critique. It was never like she had to redraw her chapters from scratch or rewrite part of the story, much to her relief, especially since going from a monthly to weekly schedule was something she initially feared, but with enough coffee and the right focal environment, it was easier than expected. Then again, the bags under Akaashi’s eyes always seemed to grow a little deeper whenever they met, so maybe by the time he got to her he was just too worn out to dig for more flaws.

“Huh… yeah, that is a pretty tough job.” She could hear the smirk on Kei’s face, but otherwise ignored the smugness in his voice. “You barely leave any room for improvement - anyone would have a hard time as your editor.”

Tora wanted to snap at him for a multitude of reasons, but luckily she caught herself just in time to properly process Kei’s words and tune out the way he said them. Her lips curled into a sly grin as it was now her turn to lean back in her chair, gaze fixed on Kei - or rather, his camera feed.

“Oh? So, you’re basically saying that my work is perfect, right?”

Kei stiffened, glancing away from his camera and craned his neck down to scratch behind it. “...I didn’t say that.”

“But you totally did! If there’s nothing to improve, that means it’s pretty much flawless!”

“You’re putting words in my mouth-”

“And you’re getting all shy because you think my work is perfect~!” Tora couldn’t stop herself from giggling, lightly kicking her feet as she pulled herself even closer to her desk. Watching Kei’s face slowly turn pink as words failed to support his claims was something she’d gotten a little more used to as of late. Even the usual click of his tongue had lost the same edge as compared to a few years ago. To her delightful surprise, her boyfriend was becoming more and more honest with himself and with her as the days went by. Or at least, less willing to pretend like he was as apathetic as he portrayed himself to be.

She didn’t feel bad at all embarrassing him, but she decided to employ an apologetic tone as she moved her right hand to her mouse. “Here, I’m almost done with my chapter pages. I’ll show you, since-”

“No need.”

She stopped right as she was about to press the button to stream her art application. She raised a brow, looking back towards Kei as he sat himself upright with his gaze still fixed on his textbook. She was far from mad at his abrupt rejection, for it was hurried, almost restless, and very uncharacteristic, so she definitely felt justified in asking-

“Why not?”

“...No reason in particular.”

Tora quirked a brow. “Mm, there’s definitely a reason. What’s up, Kei?”

“It’s really noth-”

“Kei.”

“It’s-” Kei's eyes shifted up only slightly before darting to numerous surfaces around him. It was evident he was thinking about what to say as he always did, but the more seconds that passed by the brighter the pink hue on his face became. Tora was almost tempted to take a screenshot to could cherish the sight forever, but she chose to exercise self-restraint instead, mindlessly spinning her own pen between her fingers, though a lot less smoothly than Kei had moments prior. “It’s… unfair.”

Well, that was unexpected.

“Unfair?” Tora repeated. “To who, my readers?” Without another word, Kei stood up to turn around and walk over to the bookshelf where a variety of textbooks and encyclopedias were kept and a couple of dinosaur figurines sat neatly arranged on the countertop. His esteemed collection, as Tora and Akiteru would jokingly call it. She didn’t know what she was expecting, but when Kei knelt down and pulled one of the shelves out towards him, she almost fell out of her chair. “W-Wait, what the hell?! You have secret compartments in that thing?!”

Kei didn’t respond, methodically pulling out a couple of books from inside the compartment and stacking them on the floor. Tora learned forward and squinted at the screen. She couldn’t see the covers or spines of any of them with how far away he was from the camera, but she could tell right away that every single book he was pulling out was a volume of manga. Eventually he gathered the stack in his arms and walked back over to his desk, setting them down just out of frame and exhaling more forcefully than he probably intended. For a moment he seemed to hesitate, posture shrinking for just a second before he sat down in his chair again and held up a single volume to the camera. The first cover of ‘Soul Project’ came into view, clear as day.

“You… bought them?”

“Of course I bought them,” Kei replied, defensive and almost sulky. His ears and cheeks were visibly pink even under the dim lighting of his room. “How else am I supposed to read them?”

“B-but I thought you just read them online, o-or the weekly serialisations! I-I didn’t think- how many volumes do you have?!” She pointed a finger at the pile of books just out of frame.

“...All of them.”

“ALL?!”

Kei’s face flushed an even deeper hue, if that was possible. He shifted in his chair before folding his arms over his desk and repeatedly tapping a finger against his elbow. Tora could only laugh in slight exasperation, and to reflexively expel the overwhelming gratitude welling up in her chest.

“That’s so unnecessary, though,” she said through unintended giggles. “I mean, I’m the artist, so if you wanted to read it or if you wanted the volumes I could have probably just-”

“No.” The finality in his tone made her clamp her mouth shut. “It… doesn’t feel right.”

“What do you mean?”

Kei finally looked right at his camera, though as if aware of how he was essentially staring straight at her that way, his gaze turned to where Tora assumed she was on his screen. His hands came together on the desk, fingers fidgeting as he clasped them loosely, thumbs smoothly rolling around each other in an absent, circular motion.

“I mean…” He hesitated, briefly pressing his lips together. “I want to see your work the way you want it to be seen. When you finally put it all together, and decide that you’re proud of it.”

Tora blinked, breath catching as his words sank in.

“I'm not saying your drafts are bad,” Kei added quickly, voice softening as if trying to explain something he’d thought about for a long time but never quite said aloud. “It’s just… when I read through the whole thing for the first time in a volume there’s… a different kind of feeling. Like it all clicks together.”

Tora stared at him and the way he continued fiddling with his hands, her chest tightening in a way that made her feel lightheaded. She wasn’t expecting such a heartfelt answer from Kei. Knowing that he read and enjoyed her works was one thing, but to hear that he held that much sentimentality towards it was surprising, to say the least.

He wasn’t done. “Besides you’re a published artist now, so it’s… it’s the best way to support your work…”

The words were muttered so quietly that she could barely hear them. Once she pieced the sentence together in her brain, her lips parted in stunned silence before she snorted and started laughing hysterically. “O-Oh my god, Kei-”

“Shut up.” He ducked his head into his hands, groaning as her laughter continued to where she’d bent over her tablet in an attempt to ease the strain of her stomach. His voice was muffled, but the clear mix of embarrassment and frustration only drove her further into hysterics.

“Kei you’re- y-you’re so cute-!” She barely managed between heaves for breath.

“I said shut up.”

“Wait! Is that what you mean by it’d be unfair? Because I wouldn’t be making as much money?!”

“Just get back to work!”

i would love to talk about tora's manga series one day but i need to flesh it out lmfao. also this format kinda drives me crazy so if i post more fics or writing in general erm don't be surprised <333

[solarsturniolo]

question, how was Chris the first one to become big on social media? I just started watching them back in November and even I can tell that the recent video was off-putting. Adding, their fans are insane for harassing that one girl for speaking up. She’s doing the same thing that the triplets are doing.

They made a video = she brings up the situation on her own as a former viewer. Matt & Nick makes comments about the situation = she does the same especially because she’s being harassed. The Triplets make TikTok content mocking the situation = she does the same because they are also milking it. They proceed to make a YouTube video, adding her content in it = she does a response video. And yet with all of this, she is seen as the bad guy DESPITE how respectful she was in her post. They know what they put onto the internet can be taken one way or another, so getting upset about what you put onto YouTube and Instagram isn’t a viewer issue, the call is coming from WITHIN THE HOUSE. If their viewership is that low at the moment then they need to set up more meetings on where they want to go from now on.

Everyone’s sibling dynamic is different, we can admit that, but you cannot tell me siblings constantly wanting to be hit on by their siblings, fun or not, is healthy. Honestly who is the adult in this situation because I’m not seeing any besides former / current older fans😭

( I’ve also heard how they almost never speak up about situations regarding them or people around them so some are side eyeing the fact they are dragging this out for long. )

Chris was the first to really blow up on the internet. He was known as the orange hoodie guy because he’d often be wearing an orange hoodie. He had a handful of viral videos that happened before Nick and Matt started receiving the same attention. Their niche was them being triplets because it’s not something that most people see, so it gave them the leg up for being ‘different’ and ‘interesting’.

The triplets have a very bad habit of getting frustrated when people call them out on their poor habits and behavior. Nick and Matt especially like to throw shade and talk shit, but Chris usually doesn’t indulge in that very much because I think he’s the only one that truly takes their job seriously. From the start, Chris has put in the effort and held onto his dream. Nick and Matt make their contributions, but they don’t think of the consequences that can come with some of the things that they do. If they’re not careful, it could potentially tank their career, which I think Chris is beginning to realize and that’s why i believe he’s been staying out of it for the most part.

Like i said before, the triplets don’t like people who aren’t enablers. That’s why they get so heated when they get called out, it’s also why they interact so much with their more impressionable fans that worship them like gods. (I have spoken to fans who have literally said that they see them as gods and will treat them as such…that’s weird.)

They’re just men at the end of the day. You can act however you want to act with your siblings, but you also can’t pick and choose the reactions you get from people when you publicly post it to the internet. Someone inboxed me saying fans like me are ‘insufferable’ because they don’t need to take accountability and that it wasn’t abuse. I’m not saying and have never said that Matt is ABUSIVE. But laying your hands on someone aggressively, with the intention to hurt them (and doing it regularly or repetitively) IS abuse. It is the literal dictionary definition of the word.

At 21 years old, you shouldn’t be laying your hands on anyone in an aggressive manner. If you can’t find the words to express how you feel, maybe that’s a sign that you should take some classes in communication.

They SHOULD be held accountable, because they NEVER take accountability for ANYTHING. EVER. And the best thing about accountability? ITS ABSOLUTELY FREE!! ALL THE TIME!! EVERY SINGLE DAY!!!!

Unfortunately, their egos are too far gone and they probably never will take accountability for the things that they do that frustrate their fanbase. They know they have so many fans that will dickride until the sun burns out, so they feel no need to keep the ones that find their actions and behavior odd and discomforting.

[blueskittlesart]

hiiiiiiii so um. ik a while back you posted a doodle of yourself with short hair and i’ve been thinking about cutting mine short—do you have any tips about picking a style or anything that might not be obvious about having short hair?

oh fuck yes I do! I've had short-medium hair in a few different styles since I was thirteen (im 20 now, so it's been a while) and I recently buzzed my head for the second time so i'm pretty experienced in this area lol!

first thing you should know is that if anyone has ever suggested that you don't have the "facial structure" for short hair or that you're not gonna look good with it is full of shit. no one tells men they don't have the face for short hair. i promise it's gonna look good. chop that shit off

in terms of style, be aware of the amount of work the style you pick is going to take. when I first cut my hair short the reference photo I gave my stylist was of a heavily styled cut--something that would take gel and hairspray and a lot of effort to maintain every day. The base cut was fine, but it didn't look like my reference photo without a ton of effort on my part, and at 13 I wasn't really willing to put that kind of effort in, so my hair ended up unstyled and kind of flat and weird for a while. if you're someone that doesn't like to put a ton of work into styling their hair every day, pick a style you can just wake up and go with. my personal favorite lazy bitch haircut is the buzzcut that i currently have. insanely low maintenance and comes with the added benefit of stopping weird men from talking to you in public. perfect haircut.

Also be aware of how your cut is going to grow out and/or how often you're going to have to get it trimmed to keep it looking the same way. that was something i remember being really surprised about when i first cut my hair off--when your hair gets to a certain length, it grows more slowly and you don't have to cut it as regularly to maintain its health and your look. when you have shorter hair, your hair grows FAST, and if you're not planning on growing it out you're going to need much more regular trimming to keep it in check. Make sure that that's in your budget or that you have the time and skill to trim it back yourself! Alternatively, if you're planning on growing it out after the cut, look into how it's gonna grow out so you know what to expect in terms of look and styling. I like to buzz my head mid-summer and let it grow out for about a year before shaving it all off again, because I know that I like all the stages of growing out that cut and I know how to style all of them. there's always gonna be an awkward stage of growing out your hair, but make sure that you're not gonna spend a ton of time hating your look just to get your length back if that's your plan!

my final advice: if you're looking for a specifically masculine haircut as an afab person, do not go to the same older female stylist you've been going to since you were 10 years old. trust me. You can show that woman a picture of a whole grown man for reference and you will still be leaving with a karen cut. she is incapable of giving you what you want. Either try to find a stylist who you trust to use your reference faithfully, go to a male barber, or cut it yourself! especially if you're going for a simple buzzcut or something similar, it's really easy to cut your own hair at home with a pair of electric clippers from amazon. I've been cutting my hair with safety scissors and some clippers borrowed from a friend for going on 4 years now. it's easier than you think!! youtube tutorials are your best friend.

now onto things you might not know:

listen to me. this is the single most important piece of advice i can give you. buy spray-on sunscreen and SPRAY YOUR FUCKING HEAD. there is no hell like a peeling sunburn all over your fucking scalp. it will happen and you will not expect it and you will want to die. you are going to think your hair is thick enough that it won't happen and it is going to happen anyway. do not take chances with this shit

you do NOT need nearly as much shampoo and conditioner for a short cut as you are instinctively going to put in your hands after years of having long hair. think, proportionately, about the product-to-hair ratio you were using BEFORE your haircut, and do not squirt out more than like a nickel-sized pool of product at the absolute most. your bank account and your hair will thank you.

short hair still needs to be taken care of especially if you're bleaching/otherwise chemically treating it regularly! if you're putting harsh chemicals in your hair you should be using restorative treatments afterwards regardless of length. no matter how short your hair is it can still get stringy and gross and break!!

in that same vein, you CANNOT be applying bleach to your short hair in the same way you do for your long hair. listen to me. Drugstore bleach cannot be sitting directly on your scalp for more than 20 minutes. if your hair is short, any amount of bleach you put in it is going to end up sitting directly on your scalp. i know it's tedious to do multiple passes but chemical burns are even more tedious. please do not put bleach on your skin

also in regards to bleaching/color, keep in mind that your semipermanent color is probably going to have less longevity in your short hair than it did in your long hair. Since all your hair is close to your scalp now, it's taking the brunt of your shampoo regimen and therefore the dye is going to wash out quicker than it would in long hair where most of the dye is further away from the scalp. if you're regularly trimming your hair to keep it your desired length, you're also going to be cutting out a lot more color than you would by just trimming dead ends on long hair. you may find yourself spending more on hair dye if you dye your hair regularly!

[hirukochan]

Hi I'm wondering how to improve my writing

Hi there!

Oof, idk if I'm the right person to ask there. Writing has always come natural to me. I started creating my own stories when I was a child. Storytelling just has always been a part of my life, but I will try!

Practice.

Writing is a skill. It may come easier to some people just like art, dance, crafts - any creative activity really - but it is still a skill and a skill can only be improved by doing it over and over and over.

Don’t be afraid to try.

I’ve seen countless posts of people being stuck on their worldbuilding for years without ever writing a single word. World building is great, collecting resources to improve your writing is all good and well but they will be of no help to you if you don’t ever actually start to write.

Don’t be scared to suck.

I’ve written plenty of stuff that’s bad. I’ve deleted entire chapters and started over because it was just not working. It can be frustrating and it’s fine to take a step back for a moment and come back with fresh ideas. Not everything you write has to be shared with the public. Scribble down brainfarts on a napkin you never look at again. Fill notebooks with story shreds you’ll never expand on. Just write. Get comfortable with writing. Try out new things even if those aren’t what you want to write. Every creative writing class will tell you to not write fiction and while I disagree with the notion that fiction is somehow less, it is not bad advice to step out of your comfort zone and challenge your skills. I wrote a few short stories that were set in the ‘real’ world and while it was hard, I think it really helped me improve.

It’s worth experimenting with different mediums as well. Some people prefer to write on the computer, some do their best work on paper. I like to switch between the two when I notice myself getting stuck. I have one story I write almost exclusively on paper. It’s annoying to type it all into my computer after but it’s worth the extra effort.

Read a lot. Artists look at other artists’ work and study every detail of their work. Every author has a different style. By reading other peoples’ works in different genres you broaden your own horizon.

For years I got stuck on all these rules some people have made up for writing and while some of them are sound advice, most published authors break those rules too. Unless you want to get traditionally published, writing is a hobby and hobbies are supposed to be fun. Don’t get hung up on trying to be perfect. Just write. You can come back later and edit or don’t. I don’t. I do some haphazard spell checking and that is it. I don’t enjoy editing. I don’t like rereading my chapter over and over to try and get it perfect. Perfection is a myth anyway. Some people will not like what you write and that is fine. Your audience is out there, even if it might take a moment to find it.

It’s easy to get discouraged when you don’t get the response to your work you crave. No amount of telling yourself you write for yourself will change that. In the end, we know our stories. We don’t need to write them down to know them, nor publish them on the internet. We do that because we want to share our little world with other people and in a time were kudos and comments are at an all time low it is easy to feel like you are shouting into a forest and your words get lost between the branches.

I’ve let myself get discouraged by this too. It’s the reason A Servant of Death hasn’t been updated in forever. I recently published two oneshots I’m pretty proud of but because they are both rare pairs, I got barely any responses.

I can’t tell you how to deal with disappointment. It’s something I struggle with. I just have to believe that my stories reach people. That someone is glad they were written even if they are too shy or busy to tell me.

Find fandom friends. I find it is much easier to deal with my disappointment when a story doesn’t do as well as I think it might deserve (and I’ve been spoilt rotten with the responses to ‘Your tears are of no relevance to me’, going back to my rare pairs and less popular ships after that was and is a hard transition). Join a discord, be active on tumblr, find your people that share the same brain rot as you. I’ve made so many great friends over at the Snarriet Discord, it’s a wonderful community - you just need to find it.

Now I know that even if no one else will read it, @snapesmorningcoffee and @loneamaryllis are always among the first to read my sick and twisted stories. I can’t tell you how much of a difference that makes!

So…yeah. My biggest advice is to just write. Forget all else. Set a timer for five minutes and write as much as you possibly can in that time even if you just end up writing ‘idk what to write’ over and over. You’ll automatically get better at it the more you do it, the longer you do it.

[unseededtoast]

Turtle Doves | Joel Miller

Part Nine

Chapter Directory

Series Summary: In which two broken souls connect so deeply, that if one should perish, the other would surely die of a broken heart. (slow burn, timeline changes. After TLOU1, before TLOU2, assumed knowledge of infected, uses elements from both show and game)

Series Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence, death, and sexual content.

Also cross-posted on Wattpad and AO3. Link to my masterlist for everything else I’ve posted!

"So you were there when she died?"

"I was."

Traveling with Joel is both the easiest and most difficult thing. His quiet nature makes it easy to lay low, allowing myself to focus on my thoughts without interruption. His silence is also the same thing that makes it difficult. The silence let's me think too much, and my list of questions just keeps continuing to grow. If I had no sense of respect, I would be asking all of them at once. But I know that if I'm ever going to get the answers I want, I'm going to have to play things smart. Joel is a cautious and reserved person, he doesn't strike me as the type to lay everything out.

He walks a few paces ahead of me, probably in effort to keep me from asking questions. Last night after he read the notes, I still didn't get anything useful out of him. My mind keeps reeling, trying to figure out what he knows. But I keep coming up with nothing. The best idea I have so far is that he has some sort of issue with the Fireflies, and that makes two of us.

After walking most of the day, he stops off in a wooded area to the side of the road, unloading his gun and backpack against a tree. Finally. My feet ache and my back hurts from walking nonstop. My backpack finds its place against a tree as well, and I raise my arms to stretch my weary muscles. Joel glances at me before averting his gaze, and I can't hold my tongue any longer, I can't help it.

"So what were you doing all the way in Boston if you live out past Omaha?" I ask, my voice creaky from not using it all day. My arms lower themselves back to my sides, and his silence makes me think he's probably not going to answer.

"I had to tie up some loose ends, let people know I wasn't gonna be comin' back." He says as he takes a sip of water from his old canteen. My mouth forms a small 'O' shape as I recall that he was in fact supposed to come back after his job.

"James told me about that. What kind of job was it? I hope it was worth it, you and your partner were gone for what, almost a year?" I immediately regret asking as I see his jaw tense. Without knowing it, I may have just crossed a boundary. He puts his canteen away without answering me. My gaze falls to the ground and I shake my head,

"You don't have to answer." My voice is weak and I pick my bag up to find somewhere else to take a break. The tension is palpable and heavy between us, almost suffocating.

With my bag almost dragging the ground, I find a shaded spot about twenty feet away from him and sit down so that my feet can find some reprieve. I wipe my hands over my face, trying to reinvigorate myself and to relieve some of the stress I'm sure is apparent on my features. Resting my head against the bark I let my eyes close and I focus on the sounds of nature opposed to overthinking the grumpy man's silence.

The songs of birds faintly carry through the air, and if I concentrate hard enough, it's almost like the world never ended. The peace of the woods in the middle of nowhere is unparalleled after spending years in a busy, crowded QZ. My body takes a deep breath and I open my eyes, fingers fiddling with the grass below me. There are tiny white wildflowers sprinkled throughout the grass, along with dandelions.

Without a second thought, I pick them and made a rough arrangement in my hand. The white and yellow compliment each other beautifully and as I admire my rudimentary work, my chest aches with longing. I miss doing this every day, I miss my small field of colorful flowers; they always brought me joy. Now, the beauty of flowers serve as a bittersweet reminder of what used to be. I break off a large piece of grass and tie it into an ugly looking bow around the stems of the dandelions and put the flowers in the side pocket of my backpack.

As I put the flowers away I notice Joel looking at me through the trees. His eyes almost look soft, not as guarded as they always are. But I don't hold his gaze. Instead, I keep to myself and rest my eyes for a few minutes longer, until he breaks the silence for once. His boots rustle around in the tall grass and I hear the unmistakable sound of his rifle being slung over his shoulder.

"We should keep goin'." He says, walking back out towards the road. I agree wordlessly and join him on the pavement.

A part of me is beyond annoyed at his behavior, but the more logical part of me understands why he is the way that he is. To keep my temper, I keep reminding myself that I only have to stay with him until Omaha, and then we will indefinitely go our separate ways. But the thought of making this journey back to Boston by myself is daunting, and something I'd rather not dwell on right now. I'll figure things out when the time comes, in the meantime my focus and energy should be spent going after the killers.

Hours later, we find ourselves in a tiny town, one that only has a single traffic light. The buildings have all probably been ransacked a few times over, but I know Joel will want to stop to look for things. Which is fine with me, the more supplies we have the better off we are. I follow him into the stores, each clear of infected. Our bounty turns out to be a single can of pinto beans. I think I'll let him keep those.

We exit out the back door into a little alleyway and I tie my hair back out of my face, the heat of the day making my skin slick with sweat. As I tie up my hair, my eyes land on an interesting piece of graffiti on a building across from where we're standing. My feet move towards it before I really take in what it is I'm seeing.

There on the brick wall is the Firefly symbol spray painted in white, and over top of it is a bright red 'T'. The killers have definitely been here, maybe this is the same path they take to get between Boston and Omaha. I hear Joel come to stand beside me and he huffs.

"Damn Fireflies." He mutters, catching my attention.

"The world would be better off without them." I agree, figuring the conversation would end there. I see him turn his head towards me in my peripheral before he speaks again.

"What's your issue with 'em?" He asks and I meet his gaze, seeing a genuine interest in his eyes. I shrug my shoulders and turn my attention back to the graffiti,

"All they do is kill people for no good reason. Bunch of runaway kids who think they're some sort of heroes, they don't even understand what they're fighting for, really." I keep my rant short instead of droning on and on about what issues I have with the Fireflies. Joel nods his head,

"You got that right. But uh, I think they're fractured now. Their leader, she died a few weeks back." Joel says, crossing his arms. My eyebrows raise in surprise.

"Marlene?" I ask, wanting to be sure I heard him right. I met Marlene once early in my pill running career, she was the one who ignited my hatred for the Fireflies. She was one self-righteous bitch. His head nods, confirming Marlene's death. 

"You know her?" I nod my head, looking back over to him from the paint on the wall.

"Better off dead. Maybe without a leader they'll all disband." I say, hopeful for the end of the Fireflies. But I know it's wishful thinking. People like that always tend to find something to get involved in.

"Maybe, if we're lucky." Joel says exactly what I'm thinking. My curious nature once again gets the best of me and I can't help but ask him more. I'm itching for any more information about anything he's willing to give me.

"How'd you know Marlene?" I ask, and his jaw tenses up before he relaxes it.

"She was the one who gave me this last job." He answers, and my mind works overtime. My brain conjures up at least five other questions, but one burns hot on my tongue as I put together the figurative puzzle.

"So were you there when she died?" The timeline would add up. I know he just got done with the job she apparently gave him, and if he hates the Fireflies, then maybe he knows more about her death than just the simple fact that she died. His eyes squint as he looks down to me, but I hold my ground. I'm growing rather impatient of his unwillingness to converse and answer my questions when I've answered all of his.

"I was." Is all he says, and I take what I can get. I want to push him further but I know I'm already skating on thin ice. Instead, I turn our focus back onto the graffiti. My fingers rest on my chin as I try to think of how this fits in with the rest of the pieces I have.

"They're obviously working together or something." I say, recalling the note I found outside the QZ. Trying to concentrate, I squeeze my eyes shut and think about every clue I have. The answer feels like it's just out of my reach, like it's right at my fingertips but I just can't seem to get a grasp on it.

With a sigh, I turn to face Joel and tell him we should keep moving. I don't think standing here in this town is going to help me miraculously figure things out, so we should keep going. My body wants nothing more than to lay down and rest, but we have a lot of ground to cover. Maybe tonight when we find someplace to hunker down I can take a look at everything again and try to make some sense of it all.

Joel stays to my side as we walk the second half of the day. Perhaps my distaste for the Fireflies is making him warm up to me after all. Or maybe his feet are also in an immense amount of pain. It would be nice to find an operational vehicle, I don't know how we're going to make the entire trip by foot. But finding a vehicle out in the middle of nowhere is like finding water in the desert.

We must have covered at least thirty miles today, and my body is feeling the effects. The sun has drained my body of water and the dehydration is already making my head spin. My feet are throbbing, my back is so sore and tense I think it might get thrown out of whack if I step the wrong way.

Off in the distance, I see a building finally appear. My finger points to it, and Joel weakly nods in response. Only a little bit farther until we can collapse for the night. With a newfound sense of purpose, my pace kicks up a little but not without the protest of my body. The building turns out to be an old gas station.

Joel and I make sure there are no infected around before we open the doors. Shelves are pushed all around and discarded items litter the floor. Even a place this remote has been looted, but that's no surprise. After ensuring the building is safe, the two of us push shelves in front of the entryways so that we will be able to rest soundly without worrying about the infected finding us. Although, I'm not sure that fear will ever been completely out of my mind.

After the entry points are secure, the two of us collapse to the ground, pushing off our backpacks. I lay completely flat on the floor, and my spine decompresses with a few loud pops. The feeling of not being on my feet is euphoric, and suddenly the linoleum floor of this abandoned gas station is the most comfortable bed I've ever laid on. Though I'm sure my body will disagree with me in the morning. For once, the silence between Joel and I has never been so welcome.

The sun begins setting and I will myself to sit up, knowing I want to look at my clues before we completely lose the light. Out of my bag I fish out the clues and spread them all in front of me so I can see everything at once. My fingers pick at the dry skin on my lips as I re-read everything, becoming completely enthralled in finding answers that I don't realize Joel is by my side offering me some water until he nudges my shoulder. I take the canteen from his hands and tip it back, noticing we are running very low on water.

"Thanks." I hand him the canteen back after barely taking a sip. He puts it away with the rest of his belongings before he sits back on the floor across from me. My eyes flicker up to him and I see him studying things with the same intensity as me. Feeling confident, I begin talking about my theories out loud, maybe this will convince him to say something. I know he knows more than he's letting on.

"Maybe the T group found this letter somewhere and decided to run with it?" I begin with my least favorite theory. Joel frowns and shakes his head,

"No, the Fireflies wouldn't just leave behind instructions like that." He says, confirming a sneaking suspicion I had. I know the Fireflies are, or were, reckless, but even this seems to be something they wouldn't do. They likely wouldn't hand off work that could give them notoriety if they could do it themselves.

"So if it wasn't left behind, then it was given to them." I assume, not seeing another answer to this question. Joel nods his head,

"More than likely. Even before Marlene died, they were runnin' low on numbers." He says, opening up more about his knowledge. I'm not sure if he realizes he's doing it, but I don't point it out.

"But why would the Fireflies have any interest in killing children?" I'm unable to wrap my head around this question. It's obvious in the letter branded by the Fireflies that they want teenagers to be killed. But why? What would the Fireflies gain from killing kids? My eyebrows are so tightly knitted together that I'm unsure if I will ever stop scowling. Joel shrugs his shoulders.

My eyes fall on the map that was found and I stare at the large letter that's situated on Omaha. Why would the Fireflies have interest in killing children, and if they did hand this job off to this group, why did they choose a group so far out west? If they wanted the QZs in the northeastern part of the country to be targeted, wouldn't it make more sense to find some other group closer?

Each time I think I'm unraveling a new clue, there are ten more questions that pop up and it seems answers are in short supply. The worst part is that I know the answers are out there somewhere. My eyes fixate on a star that's located on the map, close to where we are. I point to it and look up at Joel.

"We should be passing through there tomorrow, right?" I want to double check that I'm right. He nods his head,

"Yeah, it's not too far from here. Should get there before the afternoon." He confirms my thoughts.

"Well, I guess we'll be able to see what the stars represent." I say, losing my mental capacity for critical thinking. The exhaustion of today's travelling paired with the unanswerable questions causes my head to hurt.

I put the clues away in my bag and use it as a makeshift pillow. Throwing my arms over my eyes, I block out the rest of the light so I can rest in the pitch black. Before I fall into unconsciousness, I find myself wanting to thank Joel. Without moving my arm from my eyes, I talk to him.

"Goodnight Joel, thank you for coming along with me." My voice is soft and airy, full of tiredness. He grunts in response, probably half asleep himself.

Tomorrow we should be able to find at least one answer, even if it's just a tiny one. Finding out what the stars represent could be a huge part of the puzzle that we're missing.

Part Ten

[buckysqueen80]

Warning: ptsd, smut, aggressive tendencies Cowboy Bucky!

AN:

This was written in 3 parts with a slow burn. If you know the rule you know the rule. Now we ride on!

Save a Horse, Ride a Bucky Pt1

I had been working on this ranch, from about the time that I was old enough to wear my first pair of cowboy boots.

My father had owned this ranch before me, just as his father before him.

Before that, the ranch had been in the hands of the Rogers family.

But when they lost their only son, the family decided to pack up and sell the ranch.

That’s how it came to be in my family, and now currently mine.

I was proud that I was able to keep this ranch going, despite the troubles I had faced the first year after taking it over from my father.

We had a hard calving season, last round, with some of the calves not surviving. So things had been tight for a bit, but we pulled through.

I lost my buckaroo a while back after the last calving season, and had made due without one for the time being, but I couldn’t go without one with the upcoming show season starting.

I was headed into town to put a posting up looking for a new buckaroo.

When I got into town, I walked into the town watering hole, calling hello to the owner, Clint, who was holed up at the bar, serving the regulars.

“Y/N!” shouted Clint, as he scurried over to the end of the bar, where I stood.

“Hey Clint!” I say giving him a one armed hug.

“What brings you into town?” he asks me, looking down at the stack of papers I had in my hand.

“I’m finally going to hire a new buckaroo. Been putting it off since Rhodney left. But show season is in a few months, and I want this to go as smoothly as possible. So, do you think I can put up a flier here, in case someone is interested?” I ask him.

“Actually, funny that you mention it, but there is someone down at the other end of the bar that just came into town a few days ago looking for work. You’re looking for someone, he’s looking for work, it’s meant to be!” he says to me.

Before I can say anything, Clint calls down to someone at the end of the bar.

“Hey, Barnes!! Come here!!” he calls out.

I just roll my eyes at Clint, preparing for the worst.

As I lift my head up, I am met with the most electrifying blue eyes I have ever seen.

My eyes traveled to the pinkest lips, as they continued looking him up and down.

I let out a breath that I didn’t know I had been holding.

He took off his hat, putting it up against his chest and taking a bow, before a low reverberating sound rumbled in his chest.

“Howdy! My name is James, but most people call me Bucky!” he says, taking my hand in his.

The moment our skin touched, a shock wave of electricity flashed up my arm, causing a trail of goosebumps to erupt on my bare arm.

Bucky must have sensed it as well, because when I looked back at him, he had a smirk on his face, and made no effort to let go of my hand.

Clearing my throat, I pulled my hand from his.

“Nice to meet you, Bucky! I’m Y/N. Clint tells me you’re new in town and looking for work. Tell me, do you have any experience working on a ranch?” I ask, not realizing something was funny, when Clint snickered.

“Actually I do. I used to work on the Stark ranch several years ago.” He says.

“Theeeee Stark ranch?!? What did you do there, per se?” I asked him, trying to hide the fact that I was impressed.

“Well I was the lead buckaroo. That was until his son became old enough to take over. He decided to make some changes, and tossed me out into the cold. Since then, I’ve been bouncing from ranch to ranch offering up work, in exchange for a meal and a place to stay. Sometimes I got lucky, and managed a few months of work, others only a few days.” he said, taking a seat on a bar stool.

I did the same, and ask Clint for a bottle of Budwiser.

Bucky arched an eyebrow, but didn’t say anything.

“What are you having?” I ask him, and when he doesn’t reply, I signal to Clint to make it two bottles.

As Clint put the two bottles in front of Bucky and I, we both nodded in thanks.

“So tell me, what sort of work are you looking to be done on your ranch?” Bucky asks, before taking a swig of his beer.

“Well, as a matter of fact, I’m looking for a new buckaroo. My last one left after our last calving season, looking for a better opportunity. I couldn’t blame him, after the rough season we had, it was anything but stable for a few months after that. But with show season about to start, I need someone who I can trust.” I tell him straight.

“I think you’ll find that I can be trustworthy, Y/N.” Bucky says, looking me dead in the eyes.

I didn’t know what was going on with me, but I couldn’t sit still under his gaze.

Clearing my throat, I stand up, downing the rest of my beer.

“Tell you what. Be at the old Rogers ranch for six am tomorrow, show me what you can do, and we will go from there. Deal?” I ask, extending my hand out to him.

He raises his eyebrows in shock, but quickly recovers, looking down at my hand, then licks his lips before taking it into a firm handshake.

“Deal! I’ll see you at six am.” he says.

“Great! See you then, and don’t be late!” I said before calling out a goodbye to Clint, and walking out of the bar to my truck.

Once I got into my truck, I let out a deep, ragged breath that I didn’t know I had been holding.

Just as I put the key into the ignition, there was a knock on my window, making me jump.

I look over to see Bucky at my door.

Rolling down the window, I look at him, waiting for him to say something.

“I just um, I just wanted to say thank you for giving me the chance. I know you don’t have to, but I do appreciate the chance.” he says.

“It’s just a chance for now. I’m not easily impressed, so if you can impress me tomorrow, we will go from there!” I say as I turned my key, the engine roaring to life.

“I’ll see you in the am. Remember, don’t be late!” I remind him, putting the truck into drive.

I looked back in the rearview mirror, and saw that Bucky was still standing where I left him.

~~~~

The next morning, I woke up before my alarm.

Stretching, I get up and walk to the bathroom, turning on the tap for the shower, before heading to the kitchen to put on a pot of coffee.

I looked up and out the window and saw Bucky fixing the broken latch on the horse’s pen area.

Shaking my head, I checked the time on the stove, showing that it was only a quarter after five.

I march back to the bathroom, and jump in the shower, while getting ready for the day.

A short time later, I made my way back to the kitchen with my boots in hand and an elastic on my wrist to put my hair in a ponytail.

I opened the kitchen door to signal that it was safe to come into the house.

A few moments later, the screen door opened, and in walked Bucky.

“Morning!” he says, walking into the kitchen.

“Morning! There’s coffee there if you want some?!Cups are in the far right cupboard.” I tell him.

He takes down a mug, and pours himself a cup of coffee, leaning up against the sink while taking his first sip, his eyes closing in appreciation.

“Thank you for fixing the latch. I’ve been meaning to get to it, but I just haven’t had a chance.” I explain.

“Wasn’t a problem really. Didn’t take me that long.” he says, while enjoying more of his coffee.

“So, I figured we could start by herding the calves from the field. I”m presuming that you can saddle up, and we can ride out.” I say, standing up as I walk over to the sink, reaching around him to put the mug in the sink.

The smell of Bucky’s cologne wafts up my nose, and makes my stomach do flops, as I fight the urge to get closer to him.

Clearing my throat, I step back, shaking my head, and turn to grab my hat off the table.

Bucky puts his now empty mug in the sink, and grabs his hat off the counter.

As we hurriedly walk to the stable,I saddle up my horse quickly, making sure things are secure before mounting up.

I watched as Bucky did the same, and was atop his horse.

“Follow me, and don’t get lost!” I warn him.

And with that, we head out to the field.

~~~

Several hours later, and all calves herded in field, we head back to the house for lunch.

We decided to eat on the porch, as the weather heated up once the sun came out.

Bucky took his shirt off, wiping away the sweat that had formed on his brow, showing off well toned arms and chest under a muscle shirt.

I had taken my sweater off, sitting in my tank top as well, and I swear, without looking over at him, I could feel his eyes roaming over me.

I squirmed in my seat, while finishing up my lunch, trying not to pay attention to him watching me.

Once I was done, I stood up taking my plate inside.

Standing at the counter, I steadied myself against the sink and tried to take calming breaths.

When Bucky came inside, bringing his plate as well, I turned to look at him.

“Can you ride? I don’t just mean like you did this morning, but I mean can you do rodeo riding?” I ask him.

“I’ve broken in a few horses in my time, so yeah, I guess the answer is yes.” He says.

“Good. I have a steed that I’ve been trying to break in. Want to give it a go?” I offer.

“I love a challenge. Sometimes it’s especially rewarding to get an animal to do your bidding. Especially when they have a lot of fiery spirit in them.” He said in a low, breathy manner, never taking his eyes off of me.

Taking a hard swallow, I pushed away from the counter, and wandered over to where the horses were out in the pen.

“This is Brimstone. He’s got a temper on him when it comes to someone trying to ride him. He’s thrown people off. If you want to try, you’re more than welcome to it.” I say, reaching over the paddock to get the saddle.

I held Brimstone’s bridle, while Bucky saddled the horse.

Sensing that something was amiss, Brimstone started pacing in spot, steadily becoming more agitated.

I watched as Bucky slowly and softly ran his hand down Brimstone’s flank, gently petting his mane.

Slowly Bucky walks in front of Brimstone, locking eye contact with him, holding out his hand so the horse could sniff it.

Brimstone stomped twice, bowing his head down, before nuzzling Bucky’s hand.

Bucky got up into Brimstone’s face, whispering something I couldn’t quite hear.

After petting his forehead and muzzle, Bucky walked back around to his flank before mounting in the saddle.

I held my breath as I watched Bucky sit in the saddle, not taking the reins, but holding onto the horn.

Brimstone let out a whinny, bowing down, then back up, letting Bucky take the reins.

Ensuring to hold on tight as soon as he took them, he waited for Brimstone to make a move.

All of a sudden, Brimstone takes off, and Bucky holds on tight.

After bucking for what seemed like forever, Brimstone couldn’t shake Bucky off, so decided to bow one final time, as Bucky petted Brimstone's neck telling him how good he was.

I couldn’t believe it.

I had been trying for months to break in Brimstone, and Bucky had managed to do so in under an hour.

I walk up to where Bucky had just dismounted, and held out my hand to him.

“If you want the job, it’s yours. I can’t say anything but that I’m impressed. Especially with Brimstone.” I say, just as Brimstone offered a nudge against Bucky’s shoulder, and Bucky offered him a sugar cube.

Brimstone whinnied in delight, beginning to prance in the enclosed pen proudly.

I couldn’t help but laugh.

This was definitely going to be interesting to have Bucky here.

~~~~~

It had been several months since I hired Bucky.

To say that he’s proven to be a great help is an understatement.

I had managed to catch up on all the tasks that had fallen by the waist side.

Bucky helped me with the bigger tasks, and took on a lot of the menial ones as well.

We had just finished for the day, and I was sitting on the rocking chair on the porch.

Bucky came bouncing up the steps before sitting down on the top step.

We sat watching the sun set on the horizon, just enjoying each other’s company for the evening.

Over the last few months, the tension between Bucky and I had been growing, with his random off the cuff comments continuously in the foreground, giving people the impression that there was something between us.

Tonight was no exception.

“Y/N?” I hear him call out.

“Yes, Bucky?” I replied back.

“Thank you again for this. For the opportunity, and the chance to prove myself.” he says, turning to look at me.

I turn to look at him, and notice a range of emotions flicker across his face.

Trying to defuse whatever was to come, I stood up, about ready to excuse myself, when Bucky stood up as well, moving to block the door a moment, clearing his throat before trying to swallow his dry mouth.

“Y/N, I … “ he starts, opening and closing his mouth repeatedly a few times.

“It’s ok, Bucky. I’m going to go to bed.” I say, waiting for him to move.

As I try to move past him, he puts his hands on my arms to stop me.

“Y/N, I know this doesn’t seem right and with you being my boss, this is not something I would normally say, but I like you. You took a big chance by hiring me, and I know I can and probably would ruin anything that we have, but I want you to know I really do like you. I’ve been attracted to you since I met you!” he admits.

“Bucky, it’s ok really.” I say,my voice barely above a whisper. I couldn’t believe my ears.

Before I can say or do anything else, I’m being pulled into a warm and passionate kiss.

His lips are warm and soft against mine. Almost velvety.

Once the shock wore off, I tilt my head back, feeding into the kiss.

We stayed like that until we needed air.

I stood there with my mouth agape, trying to process the thoughts, or lack of thoughts, running around my head.

“Y/N? Say something? Did you enjoy the kiss?” he asks.

Before I can say anything, the phone rings, and I motion for him to stay put, that I’d be a moment.

Before I pick up the receiver, I turn back and look at Bucky getting his attention and he turns around and when he finally looks at me, I just nod my head yes.

I pick up the receiver, looking Bucky square in the eyes.

“Hello?”

Pt 2 to follow

[winderlylandchime]

Fanfiction Year in Review 2023

I fell out of fandom in 2021-ish for mental health and other reasons (iykyk). I returned this past year and reunited with old friends and made new ones. I absolutely adore fandom and all that it brings with it. The passion, the love, the community, the complete bypassing of cringe. Please, more.

This year, I returned to fanfiction and published over 150k words. I know absolutely that word counts mean nothing but if we’re taking writing as a symptom of emotional and mental well-being for me (for me!), then I feel so very good about this. I also learned how many ways someone can write about the same theme (prom! arc!) without completely losing their audience. I wanted to do a little year-in-review by listing the fics I’ve published and my favorite line from each.

Thank you so much to every single person who encouraged me in DMs, servers, kudos, and comments. Writing brings me happiness but the community around writing brings me the most joy. I would not have returned to fandom without each of you.

And then there were three rating: T, word count: 727, ficlet, inspired by a prompt by @lostcol and a bit of a character study of Brian Kinney.

Favorite line: Oh, there are mothers in Brian’s life now. They’re surrounding him as he sits, head bowed, face covered in tears-streaked blood, scent of death and ammonia in his nose.

(and I’d do it again) rating: E, word count: 6,865, one-shot, canon divergence in S5, maybe something other than a bomb can bring them back together

Favorite line: It’s not like Justin is going to come back to the loft with him. Not after he up and left five weeks and three - no four days ago. He’s ready to wash his hands of this night. Ready to be done to the extent that he’ll ever be done with Justin. To the extent that he’ll ever be able to fully wash his hands of any of this. He feels like Lady Macbeth with her eternal spot, forever marked by blood on the cold cement floor of a parking garage.

carried me with you rating: E, word count: 36,405, after prom Jennifer asks Brian to stay away from Justin, and he does

Favorite line: ”But that’s not me taking care of you. That’s, that’s - ” I struggled to find the words to convey what was natural, what was something that didn’t require effort or thought or intention. “ - that’s like breathing.”

love is so short (forgetting is so long) rating: T, word count: 2,777, WARNING MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH, what the fuck was I thinking?

Favorite line: His mama, an artist, just said, “Gussy, some people, most people, have an infinite capacity to love. Other people have the capacity to love one person infinitely.” He never asked again.

clothes mean nothing until until somebody lives in them rating: M, word count: 3,007, 5+1 things and clothes sharing

Favorite line: That night, Justin lies in Michael’s old bed and holds the shirt over his face while he remembers the vibrations of Brian’s moans against his skin as he ate him out the night before. He jerks off to the memory. Not the first boy to jerk off to thoughts of Brian in this bed.

you’re like a tattoo (something i can’t undo) rating: E, word count: 87,170, my first QAF complete AU, sugar daddy AU. also kinneycutt!

favorite line: “Oh, darling,” Emmett’s voice is dripping with something cashmere soft. “Oh, oh, oh . Darling, you are fucked. Oh, you are beyond fucked.” He looks at Brian. “And you don’t even know it.”

beautiful like the darkness between the fireflies rating: E, word count: 18,611 (WIP), my first QAF post canon, exes-to-lovers, soft fluffity fluff

favorite line: “And, dad?” There’s a hopeful edge to Gus’ voice, something that hasn’t been killed by the spectacular failure of their moms’ marriage and generally having Brian as a third parent.

“Yeah?” He feels the word bubble up from deep in his chest. He wants this kid to hold onto hope for as long as they can.

“An anchor can be good, it can keep you grounded, you know?”

very low-key, no pressure, tagging to share your 2023 wins fanfic, gifs, or otherwise: @getmehighonmagic @magicandarchery @lostcol @kiranerysed @sophsun1 @bigassbowlingballhead @bartbarthelme @sheisraging @eusuntgratie @xoxoemynn