#I'm not exaggerating when I say that things have been difficult lately

[amethystina]

Anonymous raccoon here once again escaping from my garbage can. I’m really glad to hear that your former stepdad is out of the hospital and I’m sorry to hear that your aunt is in the hospital :( Wishing her a speedy recovery. You’ve definitely been getting put through the wringer both through life issues and health issues and I’m wishing that you have a moment to yourself to breathe. Taking things slowly is soooo important and I’m glad you’ve been reading at least! One of the best ways to wind down I feel like lol.

And man, in terms of the therapist I feel you. I’ve struggled with therapists due to already having done so much gah damn reading previously and learning so many strategies etc. But you’re right - you’re the patient and it’s his job to figure things out! Even if you’re possibly a trickier patient. So I hope that you find a therapist (or that this one) crunches some thoughts in his brain and finds maybe a completely different way to approach things. I’m of the opinion that there is no defined way to do therapy and sometimes it’s necessary to go a lil off the rails and off the books. Wishing you luck and sending good vibes your way in hope things are only uphill (positively) from now.

Thank you so much 💜 My aunt is being very tight-lipped about her condition, unfortunately, so at the moment it's a case of "no news is good news." I'm assuming she's doing better because I haven't heard that she's died, basically.

Taking things slow is very important, yes, and I wish I could do it more than I am right now, but the truth is that things have been unravelling for the past year and it's all coming to a head. I haven't really discussed this openly before (because I get very defensive about certain aspects of my private life) but, to make a very long story short, my wife got sick last summer which left me to take care of practically everything within the household for about six months. And I do mean everything.

Which is another reason why I've been so tired. We have a very big house and I was already burnt out and exhausted, but suddenly had to singlehandedly make sure we didn't starve or the house fell apart. And this is on top of deaths and illnesses and worrying about my wife and various stresses at work, yes. It was rough. And honestly pushed me closer to a complete breakdown than I have ever been in my entire life — which, considering the life I've had, is saying something.

So, all things considered, I'm kind of surprised I'm even functional at this point?

My wife is doing a lot better now, thankfully, but I still have to do the majority of the household chores that involve physical exertion. And, after much agonising and deliberation, I had to put on my big girl pants and talk to my wife about selling the house because I simply can't take care of it on my own. It's too much work for one person, especially considering how easily exhausted I am. And even if we love this house, we both agreed that it's the best course of action. And, while we're at it, we're going to be moving into separate apartments because it's become more and more apparent that I need more space and alone time. I want to live on my own again.

We're going to stay married, though! And probably spend a lot of time together. We're just not going to live together.

And, unsurprisingly, all of this is taking up a lot of energy and space inside my head right now. There's a lot to do in terms of the house and getting it sold, then finding apartments for us both, and getting ready to move. I'm optimistic and think this will be an improvement to my energy levels in the long run, but there's still a lot left to do before I can reap any of the benefits.

So I won't be able to take things slow for the foreseeable future, unfortunately 😅

Anyhow. My therapist has already told me that he doesn't think he can contribute all that much to how I'm dealing with my stresses and issues because I already have so many strategies in place. It took three appointments. Which is almost a new record! But only almost.

I don't hold that against him, though (and he did tell me to reach out again if things got too overwhelming) but yeah. I'm an incredibly difficult client and I think I unsettle a lot of therapists because I understand myself so well already and they're not used to that. They get confused when they don't have to hold my hand all the time and I can reach my own conclusions, often in between appointments. And I look fine, you know? And can express myself so eloquently and thoroughly, so surely my problems aren't bothering me that much? Surely I've got this covered?

Or at least that's what they tell me.

My therapist did thank me for being so interesting to talk to, though? He said it was fun and fascinating to talk to someone so perceptive, introspective, and wise. So that's a compliment, I guess? He's by no means a bad therapist, I want to point out, but it's clear that he's used to working with people who need more simple and direct guidance. So definitely not the best fit for me. But, if nothing else, I got an opportunity to voice all the thoughts currently whirling around inside my brain and could get validation from an outside source. Which is something?

But yeah. No more therapist appointments for me, apparently, and a lot of my attention is going to have to go to selling the house and moving. Though I suspect the moving won't happen for another six months or so, at the earliest. But we'll see.

Thank you so much for checking in again 💜 It feels a bit like I just keep piling on more and more tragedies and crises every time someone asks me how I'm doing, but that's just my life right now I guess? And, as mentioned, it sometimes takes a while before I'm actually comfortable or willing to mention some of them out loud. I'm, uh, a little too adept at shouldering burdens in silence. So this has actually been going on in the background for months already, I just haven't wanted to talk about it until now.

But yeah. In case you wanted another reason as to why I haven't been able to write as much lately, there you have it. Life's just been really difficult this past year.

But here's to hoping that things will get better once the house is sold and I can move into my own apartment? And hopefully get more peace and quiet? And just focus on taking care of myself for once?

I want to stay positive.

Thank you again and please take care 💜

[h2llish]

⁀➷ ˖ tough love

notes ─── we love rollo <3 so this is my contribution to @cloudcountry 's event!

ROLLO FLAMME ─── if you don't care, you're not sure anyone will.

warnings ☆ fluff, some comfort, can be read platonic or romantic, gender neutral, reader is not yuu, playful teasing, lowercase intended, takes place after the event btw

the sky had become dashed with yellows and pinks as the sun began to set, and many of your peers began to retire from the rush of class. you would've liked to join them, but like clockwork, your routine left you climbing the belltower as the time on your watch struck six, with your books abandoned at the bottom for you to come back to. (if anyone stumbled across your belongings, they knew to leave it be, far too used to the routine of you and their president.)

you believe you had come to recognize every miniscule difference in the planks with how often you'd climb them, navigating the corners like your body had memorized every turn. and perhaps it has, since you've been climbing the belltower for more than a year every day to meet him at the top.

"there they are!"

you smiled and tilted your head respectfully as you reached the top of the tower, greeting the gargoyles that lived with the bell. they'd come to recognize your face, knowing you by name, and always waiting for you to reach the top at the same time, every day. ─ you'd only ever been late once, when you hadn't been aware of the quicker passage to the top. but since then, you'd always be there, even when you fell ill with a cold, or found it difficult to walk after a bad bout of food poisoning (specific, perhaps, but it did happen, and yet you still came at the exact time in which you promised you would. even if that did lead you to receiving a long scolding).

one of the gargoyles, who had always been more talkative, and seemed much older compared to the rest, waited to gesture over to the bell, where you could just barely see someone sitting on the other side. "we're especially quiet today."

"is that so." you sighed, gripping the bag on your shoulder with a lazy shrug, nodding at the gargoyle in your thanks.

rollo hardly batted an eye when you took up spot beside him, setting the bag down safely, and leaning back on your hands with an exaggerated sigh. "you know, having to climb all these stairs every day, gets exhausting." you said ─ a jab, you always made sure to poke at him. it was a test, something you've done since you were kids. you'd learned that his reactions to your jokes always told you how he was feeling, how open he was to talk to you.

"then stop climbing every day." he replied, rolling his eyes but not giving you the satisfaction of a glance your way.

you gasped, as dramatic as he'd known you to be, "but this is my time where i have you all to myself! i'm offended you'd say such a thing!"

"you're ridiculous."

"says the guy who is brooding all alone here in a tower." you snickered, and he finally looked at you, sending you a glare. but you hardly felt any anger behind it; at least not at you. ─ the anger you were used to seeing since the incident was always directed elsewhere, stewing, grieving.

"i'm not brooding." he scowled, and you raised your eyebrows, as if challenging that claim.

"sure you're not." you clicked your tongue and grinned.

he was talkative today, expressive ─ a rare occurrence with him. you'd consider it your lucky day if you didn't know he's only ever like this when his guard is down because he's simply too tired to keep it up. he's known you since you were small, you'd been there since the start of it all, and yet he still found it so difficult to relax. ─ you knew why, and you grieved for him when he could not.

he went silent, a scoff his final jab at your teasing, turning his head back out to the city that the bell overlooked, watching over it like a knight to its queen. the same city you can still vividly remember being covered in flickering flowers that drained you of the magic you built up if only to be at his side when he got into the college. ─ you remember being in the dorms, attending to any students who might need your help. and you remember when they started to fall unconscious. you remember looking outside as the flowers spread, until you too, went dark, only to wake sometime later with the mission of finding rollo to make sure he was okay. (he was, and you think you know why.)

"are you hungry?" you asked, crossing your legs and leaning forward.

"no."

"liar." you quickly rebutted, turning your head to him with narrowed eyes, "you didn't eat lunch."

"and how do you know that?"

"i know everything, my dear rollo." ─ you always made sure he was taking care of himself, always there to support even when he remained oblivious to it. you remember making that promise to yourself as a kid, to look out for him when no one else would, when he didn't know how to grieve, and he scowled and cursed at every mage that crossed your sight.

you grabbed the bag at your side and reached into it, pulling out sandwiches and bottles of water, "i brought you something to eat." you held it out to him with a look that told him he had to take it. he did, and he didn't need to say thank you because you knew that when tomorrow comes, he'll have your favorite pastry waiting for you, like he always did when you make sure to care of him where he lacked. "i would've cooked for you, but alas, i simply had no time."

"thank the stars." he sassed, and you would've gasped in surprise if you hadn't been expecting. ─ he really was so talkative today, lucky you.

"we are still sitting at the top of the tower."

"your threats have no effect on me." he scoffed, before taking a bite of the unwrapped sandwich.

you snorted and glared at him with faux annoyance, "see if i ever come back here."

a side glance as he chewed, before he jabbed back, "what happened to having me all to yourself?"

"i can manage."

"you're much too terrible at lying."

he's right, but you think that applies only when it came to your care for him.

and you know it will be the same tomorrow. ─ just as your watch strikes six, when the sky is painted with yellows and pinks as the sun begins to set, and many of your peers begin to retire from the rush of class. and although you would like to join them, you'd still find yourself at the belltower, like clockwork, with your books waiting for you to return to them, and a bag on your shoulder with sandwiches inside because you'd know he'd probably forget to eat lunch. and you'd find something else to jab at him about, to see how he's feeling, and know what he needs you to be.

because you made a promise to care for him, because you're not sure anyone else will.

do not repost, translate, copy, or run my writing through an ai

[novaursa]

eek! Hope I'm not too late! it's already 30th here!

If you'd write for Tyrion plz could I get a x wife!reader where she takes care of him (running him a warm bath, massages, pain relieving tea etc) when he has a particularly bad pain flare up?

As someone who knows first hand what chronic pain is like I know all too well how difficult it is to accept help at times, even when you probably need it, and I get the strong impression that Tyrion would be more stubborn than most, but sometimes its nice to have just one person that you trust enough to let help.

For Better or Worse

Requests are closed!

- Summary: Tyrion is in pain and refuses to admit it. But you are stubborn as any Stark.

- Pairing: stark!reader/Tyrion Lannister

- Note: The reader was married to Tyrion instead of her sister, Sansa.

- Rating: Mild 13+

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround

You watch Tyrion from the corner of your eye, his movements slow and careful. His usual swagger seems muted tonight, replaced with an uncharacteristic stiffness. He’s trying to hide it, of course—sipping his wine a bit too quickly, cracking a joke that lacks its usual bite—but you’ve known him long enough to notice the way his hand clenches around the arm of his chair, the way his brow furrows when he thinks no one’s watching.

It’s one of those nights. The kind where his pain flares up, gnawing at him like an uninvited guest.

“Tyrion,” you call softly, approaching him with the kind of ease you know won’t set him off. “Are you all right?”

He glances at you, offering a smirk that’s meant to reassure. “Ah, my sweet wolf, ever the doting wife. I’m fine. Really.”

You narrow your eyes, not buying it for a moment. “You’re terrible at lying, you know that?”

“Is that what they say in Winterfell? In the South, we call it ‘selective honesty.’” He chuckles, but it’s short-lived, and you catch the wince he tries to mask with a sip of wine.

You sigh, crossing your arms. “You’re in pain.”

Tyrion waves a dismissive hand. “A minor inconvenience. Nothing to worry your pretty head over.”

“Right.” You give him a look that says you’re not leaving it alone. “You’ve been shifting in that chair for the past hour like it’s full of splinters. When was the last time you had some relief for your back?”

He raises an eyebrow, clearly amused by your persistence. “Relief, you say? Are you offering, my dear?”

“Don’t distract me.” You step closer, laying a hand on his shoulder, feeling the tension knotting under your fingers. “Let me help.”

Tyrion sighs, but there’s a softness in his eyes that betrays him. “I appreciate the offer, truly, but I’m fine. I’m not some frail thing in need of coddling.”

“I know that. But even the smartest man in Westeros needs a bit of care now and then.” You kneel beside him, looking up at him with a determined glint. “Please, Tyrion. Let me make you some tea, draw you a bath… do something.”

He huffs, leaning back in his chair with exaggerated annoyance. “You’re as stubborn as a mule, you know that?”

“Must be the Northern blood,” you quip with a grin. “Come on, just this once. You don’t have to be so damn proud.”

Tyrion stares at you for a long moment, his defenses slowly crumbling. “You’re not going to let this go, are you?”

“Not a chance.”

“Gods, how did I end up marrying the one Stark who’s more persistent than the Other?”

You smile triumphantly and start preparing the tea. In the dim light of your chambers, the soft clinking of the teapot fills the silence. The scent of herbs wafts through the room, soothing in itself, and you bring the steaming cup to him.

“Drink this,” you command gently, “and then I’m running that bath.”

He gives you a mock scowl. “You’re bossier than I anticipated when I married you.”

“And you’re more stubborn than I anticipated,” you shoot back, gently pushing the cup into his hands. He takes it with a resigned sigh and drinks, the warmth seeming to ease him a little.

When the bath is ready, you help him out of his clothes, Tyrion muttering something about feeling like an old man. You ignore the remark, guiding him into the warm water with a care that surprises even him.

“This is… oddly nice,” he admits after a long silence, the tension in his shoulders beginning to melt away. “I might have to make a habit of this.”

“Only if you promise not to be so difficult about it next time.”

Tyrion grins. “No promises.”

Once he’s soaked long enough, you coax him out, wrapping a soft towel around him before guiding him to the bed. He watches you with an expression caught somewhere between appreciation and disbelief, like this kind of tenderness is foreign to him.

“Turn around,” you instruct as you straddle the edge of the bed behind him. He raises a brow but does as you ask.

Your hands move to his back, gently kneading the knotted muscles, feeling the way his body tenses and then slowly starts to give in to your touch. He sighs, a sound of relief that’s almost inaudible.

“You’re too good at this,” he mutters. “You should charge me. A Lannister always pays his debts, after all.”

“Consider it part of the marriage agreement,” you tease, your fingers working into another knot. “For better or worse, remember?”

“I recall something along those lines.” He shifts slightly, his voice softer now. “You’re a patient woman, you know. More than I deserve.”

“I think you deserve a bit of care,” you say quietly. “Whether you believe it or not.”

Tyrion is silent for a moment, letting your words sink in. “You’re… far kinder than I expected, marrying a Lannister.”

You press a kiss to the back of his neck, feeling him relax further under your touch. “Well, you’re not just any Lannister.”

“Flattery,” he mutters, but there’s a warmth to his voice. “It might work.”

It’s a quiet moment, one that feels both intimate and oddly vulnerable, but there’s an ease to it, too. For all his bluster and pride, you know that beneath it all, Tyrion is simply a man who’s not used to being taken care of.

And tonight, you’re more than happy to remind him that he doesn’t always have to carry everything on his own.

[sweet-s0rr0w]

Microfic: I Must Be Lonely

A late birthday microfic, written for the wonderful @getawayfox (look, it balances out @wolfpants' gift which was a couple of weeks early, alright? That's my story, and I'm sticking to it.) Happy happy birthday to fandom's loveliest quadruple threat (writer, artist, reccer, beta/cheerreader). I hope you had a brilliant day! <3

T, 1.8k, no warnings. @drarrymicrofic prompt Simple. Thanks to @tackytigerfic for Irish picking and usual brilliance. This one is also for everyone else who hates night shifts!

Another night shift at the Ministry security desk. If boredom doesn’t get you, the vampires probably will, Draco thinks, sourly. That’s at least half exaggeration, though: Sanguini and his colleagues are always impeccably behaved, hurrying between meetings with barely a glint of incisor on show. But the boredom: now that part’s no joke. Nothing much happens in the Ministry after hours – by midnight, even the most dedicated workaholics have reluctantly ducked into the Floo, leaving Draco to his books, or his fantasy Quidditch, or (briefly and unsuccessfully) his crochet. Sometimes he gets lucky – a disaster necessitating the presence of the on-call Mishaps and Maladies team at the Ministry, perhaps, or an international visitor who’s messed up the time difference – but for the most part it’s lonely work.

Every night, Draco watches as two of the house elves work their slow, methodical way across the Atrium floor from either end, mopping and polishing and casting anti-slip charms until they meet just in front of his desk, some time around five o’clock. Things always get better after that, with the sun rising in the charmed windows and the slow downhill slide until six-thirty, that blessed hour when Draco mumbles his greetings to the day staff, pulling the hood of his robes up to cover his tired eyes, and slopes off towards the Floos.

Midnight until five, then, that’s the difficult time. That’s the hungry but nauseous time, the clammy but shivery time, the grumpy, gloomy, desperately weary time. Helpfully, it’s often the time the morons from the DMLE show up, high on adrenaline and testosterone and god knows what department-approved stimulants, and often, inexplicably, looking to chat utter rubbish.

“Hey! Everyone, look, it’s Malfoy!” bellows Finnigan, his voice rattling through Draco’s skull after three hours of total silence. He marches up to Draco’s desk, at the head of a group of what might appear, at first glance, to be drunken teenagers, but which Draco knows is actually made up of fairly senior Aurors. “How’re things, Malfoy? Ministry treating you well, I hope?”

Draco straightens his robes, shoving his folded up copy of the Prophet out of sight.

“It’s been a good day, Malfoy,” Finnigan continues, clearly not interested in waiting for Draco’s response. “A bloody good day, you know?” His grin is wide and toothy as he thumps his clenched fist against his chest and flings his head back. “Another victory in the fight for truth and justice, and all that’s―”

“Alright, Seamus,” says a voice from the back of the crowd. “Leave him alone, yeah?”

“Hey! Harry! Here’s the hero of the hour! C’mere.” Finnigan tucks a firm arm around Potter’s neck, pulling him forwards, until he’s shoved up against the front of the reception desk, smiling apologetically. “See,” says Finnigan, and his pupils are barely visible when he leans closer, “another bunch of Muggle-hating scumbags behind bars, and it’s all thanks to Hazza here. Good triumphs over evil again, and the world—”

“—hang on Seamus, isn’t that stuff classified?” cuts in Longbottom – who, as far as Draco can tell, is still every bit as much fun as he’d been at school.

“Oh, give over, Neville,” Finnigan spits, mercifully turning away from Draco, “I didn’t say who it was, did I? Classified would be if I’d said oi, Malfoy, d’you know they’re running a Muggle fighting ring out the back of the Reaper’s Arms—?” There’s a collective groan. “What?”

“You’re such a twat, Seamus,” says a short-haired witch next to Neville, folding her arms.

“Oh, I’m a twat, am I?”

“Yeah. You are.”

Then someone else starts up, voices crowding over each other in an unbearable racket. Draco rests back in his chair, closing his eyes, his tired mind picturing the little yapping Crups that Mother’s friend Verity used to bring over; the ones Mother pretended to coo over even while they left puddles of piss on the Persian carpet.

A shadow falls across his desk: it’s Potter, leaning forwards, blocking out the harsh glare of Lumos off the wall tiles. When Draco blinks and looks up, he finds that Potter’s shivering a little, his hair damp and stuck to his forehead. “Sorry about that lot,” he says, softly. “You know how they can get.”

“It’s fine,” Draco says, tightly. “Nice work on the, er, Muggle fighting stuff. Sounds pretty impressive.”

“Oh, cheers,” says Potter, with a shrug. “Just doing my job, you know how it is.”

Draco looks down at his desk: the bonsai yew that reminds him of home, his stupid cheap silver-plated letter-opener-cum-emergency-vampire-repellent, the battered copy of Birdsong he’s been slogging through for two months straight. “Not really,” he replies, shrugging.

“Ah, you’re not missing much. Five minutes of excitement, tops; I’d take a good Seeker’s game over that any day. But, you know—” he glances back over his shoulder, “—truth, and freedom, and all that rousing stuff from the superhero films Seamus watches. How’s your shift going, anyway?”

“Not bad,” Draco says, sitting up taller, sliding the Prophet back into view. “By the way, who’ve you got down for third Chaser? I’m stuck between Lyons and Campos.”

“You should go with Beni, definitely. Ollie’s been raving about his form all summer.” Potter leans over even further into Draco’s space, pushing his glasses back up his nose as he squints down at the page. “You got Chang down for Keeper?”

“McFarlane.”

“McFarlane?” Potter laughs, incredulously. “Seriously? Bloody Magpies fans. Completely deluded, the lot of you.”

Draco rolls his eyes. “Well, Potter, I guess we’ll see.”

There’s a scuffle in the background, followed by cheers. “Coming, Harry?” Finnigan calls, wiping blood from his lip. “Hey, Malfoy, we’re heading out after this. It’s House night at XPulso; they’ve got three for ones on Rusty Nails, and we’re going to get Harry here laid.”

Harry stiffens, his eyes widening. “Er—”

“Yeah, I’ve got your back, mate. Maybe we can sort Neville out too, if anyone’ll have him.”

“I’m married, you knob!”

“You should really come along, Malfoy. It’ll be a laugh.”

Potter, still with his back to Finnigan, makes a faint choking sound.

“Sadly, Finnigan,” says Draco, trying to avoid Potter’s eyes, “I’m afraid I’m stuck at this desk for the foreseeable. But you lot have a great time. It sounds… memorable.”

Finnigan just shrugs. “Ah, your loss. C’mon then, boys.”

“Boys?”

“It’s just an expression, Davis, what d’you—”

They’re off, finally, all backslaps and hooting laughter, and no-one’s looking at Draco anymore, which is a small mercy. Potter reaches down to steal a crisp from the unopened packet at the back of the desk. “Anyway,” he says, mouth full, breath salt-and-vinegar scented, “’s been good to see you, Dra – Malfoy.”

“Yeah,” says Draco, glumly, and he hates himself for envying them all. “You too.”

***

Draco tries not to think about Potter, he really does. It’s hard, though, not to wonder what he’s doing – who he’s dancing with, where he’s sleeping – when all you’ve got for the night’s entertainment is Miffy and Jinks, a dodgy alarm on Level Five, and yesterday’s Prophet. He dithers for a while over his Fantasy Quidditch choices, trying to pretend he doesn’t care what Potter thinks, then Diffindos the completed page carefully out of the newspaper and tucks it into his pocket. Both house elves make it across the floor without incident. Through the window behind his desk, Draco watches the sun begin to rise over Salisbury Plain, as slowly, grudgingly, night gives way to day.

“You off?”

It’s his replacement; showered and shaven and far too bright. Draco nods grimly at him.

“Anything to report?”

“Nothing.” He gets to his feet, rolling his shoulders and renewing the Protego on his tree, grateful, as always, for the speed and convenience of the Floo. Five minutes from desk to bed, via blackout charms and a good Silencio; that’s the way to do it.

Something’s off today, though – Draco can tell, as soon as he lands, drained and unsteady, on his hearth. The heating’s already on, for one – he can’t see his breath in the air, which is a welcome change – and hang on… is that the smell of bacon? His nausea evaporates, instantly, as he follows his nose, half in a dream, only to find—

“Morning.”

Potter’s standing by the hob, grinning, and the flat’s a little more smoky than usual, but there’s eggs frying, and sausages on the grill, and just then the toast pops up and, well, Draco could just about kiss him right now.

So he does.

“Oh my god,” he says, when Potter pulls away, popping a crispy bit of bacon into Draco’s mouth instead.

“Good?”

“Oh my god,” Draco says again, salt flooding his mouth. “But what – what are you doing here?”

“Well, I was up all night too. You’re sleeping today, I’m sleeping today – I thought, well, this way at least we get to sleep together properly for once. And I know how hungry you get after night shifts. Here.”

Dizzy with tiredness, or the cooking fumes, or possibly something else entirely, Draco takes the ketchup over to the table, then slumps down hard into a chair. Potter brings over the plates, pulls his own chair in close.

They eat in comfortable silence, and it’s only once Draco’s blissfully full of sausages and buttered toast and beautifully seasoned egg, that he finally works up the courage to speak. “So Seamus’ efforts failed, I take it?” he says, lightly.

Potter snorts. “Shut up,” he mumbles, through a mouthful of beans. “Seamus passed out after the second round of shots. The rest of my night was spent escorting him back to his cousin's house on the Knight Bus. Why,” he says, grinning, “were you actually worried?

“Of course not,” Draco replies, too quickly, then sips his orange juice to try and disguise the lie.

“That’s good. Because I want to tell them, Draco.”

Draco freezes, glass in hand.

“No, I mean it,” Potter says, dropping his knife to take hold of Draco’s forearm. The Mark aches like a bruise, but beneath Potter’s fingers, the pain’s almost sweet. “Look, you know what those shifts are like; you know how they make you feel. The raid, and then getting everything wrapped up, and then seeing you at that bloody desk – the last thing I wanted was other people’s hands on me, Draco. All I could think about was how sick I am of acting the part, of pretending I’m interested, when what I’m really interested in is…” He gestures at the room, at their plates, then, finally, at Draco. “This. You.”

“I—” Draco begins, and if his voice is a bit wobbly, well, he can blame that on the tiredness, can’t he? Beside him, Potter's resumed blithely eating his bacon, eyes heavy-lidded, as though nothing he’s said was at all out of the ordinary. Draco swallows. “They’ll say you’ve lost your mind,” he says, pressing his socked foot against the knob of Potter’s ankle.

Potter nudges him back. “Well, maybe I have. Working nights will do that, after all.”

[doumadono]

Emergency request: I woke up with an anxiety attack, feeling terrible, I'm going through a very hard time in my life, as you may know. how Bakugo, Shoto, and Midoriya would comfort their significant other in this situation? What would they do if their significant other feels nauseous and becomes emotional?

A/N: I'm really sorry to hear that you're going through such a tough time. Remember that you're not alone in this journey – I'm here to support you every step of the way. It's completely okay to have difficult moments, and you're doing the best you can. If you ever want to talk or need a listening ear, know that I'm here to listen without judgment. You're stronger than you realize, and I believe brighter days are ahead. Sending you lots of love and positivity to help you through this challenging period 💕

MASTERLIST

Bakugo

Bakugo may seem rough around the edges, but he's surprisingly attentive when it comes to his significant other's well-being. He'd notice the signs of your anxiety even before you mention it, and, although he's not the best with words, his actions speak volumes.

He'd offer a tight hug, allowing you to bury your face in his chest. "Hey, you're not alone in this, idiot. I've got your back."

Bakugo's determination to make you feel better might lead him to research anxiety management techniques or show you some of his own methods for coping with stress.

He'd encourage you to let out your emotions, saying, "If you need to yell, scream, or just vent, do it, little moron. It'll help you get rid of those fucking emotions you're holding back."

If tears come, he'd awkwardly hand you tissues and mutter, "Quit crying, dumbass." But his eyes would soften, and he'd stay close by, giving you space to let it out.

During moments of nausea, he'd prepare simple and nourishing meals, then present them with an exaggerated "Eat up, it's good for you."

One evening, after a particularly long and challenging day of training, you start to show signs of exhaustion. Your shoulders slump, and your voice wavers as you express your frustration. "I just… I can't believe how tough today was," you admit, your voice tinged with weariness.

Bakugo's initial response is predictable – a scowl and an impatient sigh. "Stop whining," he grumbles, crossing his arms.

But as you continue to talk, Bakugo's annoyance begins to wane. He watches you closely, the crease in his brow slowly smoothing out. He can see the toll the day has taken on you, and his heart unexpectedly softens. "Look," he says, his voice slightly less harsh, "I get it. Training's been a pain in the ass lately. But you're not alone in this." He shifts his weight uncomfortably, his usual bravado faltering just a bit. "I'm… dealing with the same crap, you know? There are days when things get rough for me – yeah, even I have those moments. And, fuck it, I've dealt with some anxiety crap too. I know it might sound dumb coming from me, but I get it. Life throws crap at us, and it doesn't matter how tough we think we are. But you, you've got this. I've seen you handle your own shit, and you're stronger than you give yourself credit for."

You look up at him, surprised by the admission. Bakugo's gaze meets yours, and he looks away for a moment, his cheeks tinged with a hint of embarrassment. "So, just, well, don't give up, you little idiot. We'll get through this together, yeah?"

Later that night, as you two lie in bed, you turn to him. "You know," you say softly, "it's okay to get emotional sometimes. Even for you."

Bakugo huffs, a faint blush creeping up his neck. "Yeah, yeah, whatever, little moron. Just don't go telling everyone."

A small smile plays at the corners of your lips. "I won't. It'll be our little secret."

Shoto

Shoto's calm and composed nature would provide a soothing presence during your anxiety attack. He'd gently take your hand and lead you to a quiet and comfortable space.

"Focus on your breath. In and out. I'm here with you," he'd reassure, his voice steady and reassuring.

Shoto might share personal experiences of dealing with difficult times, letting you know that you're not alone in facing challenges.

He'd hold your hair back as you feel nauseous and need to vomit, rubbing your back soothingly. "Take your time, and don't hesitate to let me know if there's anything you need, Y/N."

Shoto's patience and empathy would shine as he listens to your emotions, providing a safe space for you to express yourself.

If you become emotional, Shoto would gently wipe away your tears with his thumb, his touch warm and comforting. "It's alright to let it out," he'd say softly.

One evening, after a particularly demanding day, you show signs of being overwhelmed. You let out a deep sigh and run a hand through your hair, your tension evident. "It's been a really tough day," you admit, your voice tinged with fatigue.

Shoto's initial response is to sit beside you, his presence calming. He places a reassuring hand on your shoulder and gives a small nod. "I'm here," he says softly. "Take your time."

As you begin to talk about challenges, Shoto listens attentively, his dual-colored gaze unwavering. He offers a sense of understanding through his presence, allowing you to share your feelings without judgment. "I can see how much you've been through," he says, his voice steady. "But remember, you're strong, and you're capable of overcoming this."

Later that night, as you wind down, you look at him and says, "You know, it's okay to express your emotions too. Even if you're the calm one, darling."

Shoto's lips quirk into a small smile. "I appreciate that," he replies, his voice soft. "But sometimes, it's easier to understand others' emotions than my own."

Midoriya

Midoriya's compassionate nature would make him very attuned to your feelings. He'd approach you gently, offering a warm smile.

"It's okay to feel this way, but remember, it won't last forever. We'll work through it together," he'd say, his voice full of sincerity.

He might share motivational stories or quotes to uplift your spirits and remind you of your inner strength.

When nausea strikes, he'd prepare a cup of herbal tea and guide you in taking slow sips. "This should help settle your stomach."

Midoriya would hold your hand, offering comfort and understanding as you express your emotions. "You're not alone in this, and I'm here for you every step of the way."

Izuku would offer a warm hug when emotions rise, his embrace gentle yet full of support. "You're stronger than you realize," he'd whisper.

One evening, after a particularly challenging day at school, you start to show signs of being overwhelmed. You let out a frustrated sigh and slump onto the couch, your shoulders tense with stress. "Today was just… really tough," you admit.

Midoriya's initial reaction is to sit down beside you, his expression full of concern. "I'm sorry to hear that," he replies, his voice gentle. "Do you want to talk about it, Y/N?"

As you open up about your struggles and anxiety attack you experienced, Midoriya listens intently, offering a comforting presence. He nods along, his eyes reflecting understanding and empathy. "I can imagine how challenging that must have been for you," he says, his words sincere. "I know it's not easy, but you're strong," he adds, a small smile tugging at his lips. "And you're not alone in this, baby."

Later that evening, as you prepare to turn in for the night, you wrap your arms around him from behind, saying, "You know, it's okay to talk about your emotions too. Even heroes like you have tough days, right? So next time you'll have a hard time, don't hesitate to open up to me, okay?"

Midoriya's gaze softens, his eyes filled with gratitude. "Thank you for understanding," he replies, his voice warm. "Indeed, even heroes need a shoulder to lean on sometimes."

[carlyraejepsans]

I really respect your dedication to these characters and the fine nuances in writing them with pinpoint accuracy but lord it must be really really hard to find any amount of fanfics by people who feel the same and don't unintentionally do something kinda ooc once that makes you stop reading a story. With short comics and art and whatever you have to go out of your way to mischaracterize characters since there's not a ton of internal substance, they're just kissing or telling a line of dialogue, but with fic it's so descriptive and so much more thought on how a character's inner workings carry on, and I feel a lot of people have fun writing fanfiction in a way that does not result in 100% accurate characterizations because that would take so much continual, constant effort and very thorough character analysis skills and applications to get right pretty much all of the time. I'm not sure what I'm trying to say beyond it must be tough for you specifically to find stories that don't annoy you- or perhaps that is not accurate! I don't read much fic so I don't know, it just seems like it'd be exhausting from an outside perspective

BAHAHAHA the eternal struggle of the Hater. I'm kind of obsessed with how you described it here. You're mostly correct! And kind of missing a crucial detail at the same time.

It's true, it is extremely difficult to find fanfiction that agrees with me--especially for a fandom like Undertale with 1) a very young audience and 2) a very heavily character-centric form of storytelling, which inevitably results in nuanced personalities that are hard to grasp without full context (which means analyzing the canon... a lot!)

There's two very important things you should note though!! Undertale is a HUGE fandom. As hard as finding really accurate fics might be, they ARE out there, and when i find them I'm so invested in their accuracy and analysis that I enjoy them 10000 times more than someone who just... doesn't think about this stuff. It's about quality over quantity.

The other thing is: being this ""picky"" and analysis focused doesn't actually stop me from reading fanfiction. Just lately I've been going through the entire fandom tag on ao3 in reverse alphabetical order and trying out anything that doesn't immediately put me off via tags/summary. Is there a lot of stuff that reads ooc or that I just plain don't like? like, a LOT of it? absolutely. But at the end of the day, that ALSO becomes an exercise in analysis. Why did this portrayal come off as ooc? Was the character voice accurate to canon? If not, what made them differ? Was it the way the character acted, rather? Is this the author's bias or exaggeration? Why do I feel like it would be at odds with the person they are in canon? Would they ever be driven to behave like this? What would push them? Was that accurately justified in this fic? and so on.

it's true that engaging with fandom on the regular can heavily skew your perception of the original, but i feel that engaging with fanon and habitually returning to the canon as a point of reference, as contrast, as fact checking, is one of the best ways to truly understand both the characters and the fan communities that they gathered around them. overall, it's good fun!! well worth the occasional cursed content, and even then it gives me something to inflict psychic damage on my friends with.

[ask-postcrash-curly]

Man, you have gotta stop being so relatable.

Yelling has always been overwhelming to me, always makes me shutdown. Wasn’t even necessary cuz of trauma—I remember my mom once saying I’ve always reacted badly whenever people raised their voice or yelled at me, even when I was like, a toddler or something. That’s why she always tried to never yell at me… not that it worked. Cuz she had a lotta unresolved issues, and when things built up and her emotions boiled over, well… yeah. She didn’t yell at me often, barely ever, but each time it happened, well. Very unpleasant experience, as you can imagine. Of course, this made my issues with it even worse, and well. Yeah.

But anyway. Recent events have made me realize just how bad the issue is. I thought it was just yelling and raised voices that got to me, and it wasn’t that big a deal because people almost never get mad at me since I’m a very agreeable person, but. Lately it’s been causing problems. Turns out even if someone is being calm and reasonable when they’re confronting me and just wanna work things out… if there’s any way the tone can be perceived as aggressive even if the tone isn’t actually aggressive…for some reason my brain interprets it like an attack and just… idk it’s frustrating. Because I want to be able to just work things out with people like good functional adults and whatever but instead every time I gotta talk things out it’s this whole… agh. And like, I don’t want people to feel like they can’t confront me about stuff, y’know? I don’t wanna be the person who turns into a mess even when reasonably confronted about reasonable stuff. Confrontation can be good and healthy when everyone is being respectful and it’s just part of life but…idk.

Anyway. Sorry to dump all that on you. Hopefully I’ll be able to find a therapist that can help me with that. Haven’t found a good fit yet but… just gotta keep trying, I guess.

And…

Something about the way you say “be better than me” kinda bothers me. You’re not just some cautionary tale or tragedy, y’know? It was one thing when we all thought you’d be stuck on that ship forever. But… things are different now. You’re going home. And it’s not easy, things are still really tough, and the road to recovery is gonna be really hard and difficult, but… you’ve got your whole life ahead of you now. (I don’t care that you’re in your late 30s, you’ve still got so much many years left to live.)

You’re not just… some example of what not to be like, y’know? Over the months I’ve watched you get better and standing up for yourself and reflecting a lot and… even if it hasn’t exactly been linear, sometimes there’s setbacks but… you’ve still gotten better and you’ve grown as a person and stuff. Despite everything, you’re still trying.

So… don’t put yourself down. You can get better, I can get better, and we can inspire each other, yeah?

-🌃🌠🌌

Sorry...?

Ah. Yep. That's how it is.

Hmm... Maybe you've got a dissociation problem too? Can't say for sure, but hey, it might be worth checking out. It's frustrating, I get it. Would be wonderful if I could have a disagreement with one of you without feeling like I've catastrophically ruined things. (Exaggerating for effect, I'm fine.) Yeah, I... I admit I'm worried about becoming that person too. Gets to a point where the smallest sign of anger feels like a threat. Thanks for that, Jim. And I think you'll agree: That attitude causes problems more than it solves them.

C'mon. Don't apologize. I really don't mind. Best of luck with therapy.

...Oh. Didn't... didn't think of it that way, if I'm being real. Thank you. (What do you mean late thirties? I've been thirty-five for half a year, for fuck's sake.)

Mm... Thank you, again. Means a lot that you'd say that. I'm not... I'd rather others learn from my mistakes than not, though, you know? If I can... Not a cautionary tale, as you said, but if I can use what I have learned to help other people avoid the same path, I want to. Least I can do.

Hah. Yeah. Cheers to getting better together.

[gumasantan]

i'm reviewing for my exams tomorrow...but i've been thinking a lot about 1000xRESIST lately.

it's a game, not a film or a show or a book. 1000xRESIST is a game about...many things: surviving an alien invasion, living underground, clones of human beings, stubborn parents, angst of a teenage girl, generational trauma, and a lot of things. i don't exaggerate when i say the title describes just how much themes the game dives into. since i finished the game a week ago, a feeling of longing has grown and grown inside me that can only probably be helped by replaying the game, but i can't anymore. i want to restart my memory just so i can play it again without any prior knowledge. we all feel like that sometimes, right? when we deeply resonate with a piece of media we now consider a transcendent level of art form we just wanna keep replaying it and have our minds reset, so that we may able to uniquely experience them again and again, forever, even.

i attached a pretty landscape of hong kong to not only help reel you and others in reading this, but also to remind myself how this game made me long for a memory i never had. it connected with me so much that everytime i try to recall parts of the game, it's difficult for me to dissociate myself from them, and so, i end up with a mess of thoughts, unable to properly communicate what i'm trying to say; the memories of watcher, iris, (two of the game's main characters) and i seemingly fused together into one. heck, it is not explicitly a "self-insert" type of game where the devs intend you to project yourself into it so that the story makes sense.

so, why do i reminisce about hong kong when i haven't even visited the place? for context, the troubles during the 2019 hong kong protests are ultimately what sets off the events in the game, even though the game takes place around 3047 onwards. it is one of the few games where i actually see and feel the emotional impact that such a historic moment had on the lived experiences of fictional video game characters. fictional, in name only, but they are very much real in our world: expatriates who had to flee persecution as a result of resistance. one could say that this game is dedicated to these courageous people. not only to them, but to their children who are yet to exist.

i mention this because iris was born from these people. walked on earth away from hong kong, and as she grew up, came to realize how homesick she was about that place she was a stranger to. iris and i—we are as different as we can be. i was born and am living in my native country, doing my best to live since birth. i shouldn't ever feel homesick, but weirdly, touching this game and seeing iris' life through watcher's eyes, i can't help but go back and revisit the life i swear i lived in hong kong.

i'm not the only one who feels like this, however. watcher feels the same way. of course, watcher was cloned from a clone that was cloned from iris. it's only natural that watcher retains some of that "irisness" two generations down. though she is aware that she is reliving an amalgamation of hers and iris' memories, i relate to her struggle to separate her own consciousness from iris'. this is my belief: when you keep confusing someone's memories with your own, that just proves that you two are more alike than you would think.

i said before that iris and i were as different as we can be, but by my own words, that shouldn't be true. am i hypocritical? delusional? i'm contradicting myself, but not intentionally. i would 100% disagree with myself here had i not played this game and this predicament came up in another situation, but after playing the game, i don't know. the more i think about it, the more i get convinced that iris, though raised in very different circumstances, ended up sharing some of the same traits as i do. i would argue that there are just human characteristics that we all just happen to share, kindness for example, but no, these ones—they're too personal for and very understood by me to say "no, we're different."

at the end, the game rewards you for sticking to the end: a future of your own choosing. this may be a part of the game where some people would get stuck in for more than an hour, or as short as a minute, depending how much the player sticks to their own convictions. for me, i don't know how to build a future i want because i don't know what i want out of it; i don't know what's right. the game slapped me in my face with my own hypocrisies and dared me to stick with these foolish principles. eventually, i did reach the epilogue, but it didn't feel like i actually crossed the bridge.

i'm still trying to understand just as much as i'm trying to examine every minute detail in the game. the game's mechanics are mainly built around memories and the more i keep playing the game and watch multiple playthroughs of it, i realize just how important each memory is to conveying a message that's ultimately different for all of us. a thousand different lessons for anyone to learn; it is THAT complex.

if you stuck around this long, thank you. please, please, PLEASE play 1000xRESIST. there's something here for us to learn, a thing or more. these things about hong kong and memories are part of a bigger whole that i will want to talk about once i know how to express it. especially to my fellow asians, this game will speak to your heart. i've never felt a surge of emotions this strong since i finished signalis, another masterpiece which i may get around to talking about later! (play that too!)

[wings-of-ink]

I'm rereading the demo again b/c its so fucking good, inject it into my veins. But I'm at that part where Nathanael asks MC if they feel OK (re: illness) on their birthday. There's mention that ppl in the town do gossip about MC's illness, and sometimes unkindly. I have so many questions and thoughts about this, sorry! Does MC's family/friends know, how do they handle it (I mean they probably do if MC is aware of it)? Is this a frequent thing that happens? Is MC subjected to blatant harassment (for a lack of better words)? Since Oswin and MC drifted apart do ppl take this as an invitation to shit talk MC to Oswin assuming that they don't like each other? Hes not a ppl person so I doubt many ppl gossip with him/he wont partake but not everyone is the brightest and can be quite shameless. Are ppl shit talking about MC to Nathanael? What does he think of this? Is he asking about MC or do ppl just spill the beans to him b/c its a (what I assume) small town and he travels all over with interesting stories idk??? AND ANOTHER THING, I'm sure this has some sort of impact on how MC views themself/their illness depending on their personality which is a totally other thing to dive into. I'm sooooo curious about how the dynamics of the community with MC and the other characters. I want to crack their heads open and read their thoughts. Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk.

That's awesome, I'm glad you're enjoying it!

As far as the gossip train goes, it's fairly typical small-town rumor mill stuff that goes on. You have some whispering falsehoods and exaggerations, pity from others, and some speak highly of the MC for their perseverance. MC and family are very aware that it goes on; it's been hard to keep things private. All it takes is one person at Kavi's clinic to see an unresponsive MC being carried in for the story to spread like wildfire. And, poor MC has had a couple small public episodes as well.

When MC was a kid, Kip could get pretty angry about people running their mouths, and he'd confront them directly. Some would insinuate that he's a poor father, question his ability to do what's best for MC - things like that. Dov is the type to ignore it, and few would have the courage to challenge him directly on anything. He's a total softie but he doesn't look it, so no one is looking for trouble with him.

MC as a child also received more pity and sympathy from adults - nothing terribly malicious except maybe a question about what their parents are or aren't doing to them. The hardest part for them as a kid was with other kids. It will come up in a flashback sort of deal with Oswin, or will at least be talked about with the MC and him. Some kids could be hard on MC about it - some would say they were pretending to be sick for attention, things like that. And would you believe that little sweet baby boy Aster/Lakota viciously defended MC from such teasing? Generally, his bullies were the same punk kids, since he was also sickly as a child and got the same guff. 

Along the same lines as the flashback and discussions to come between Oswin and MC, when it was clear there was something odd between them, they both had a lot of rumors going around about the reason. Oswin may have gotten into a tussle over something that was said…He never tolerated others talking about MC (even if it was only speculation and not necessarily malicious rumors) - but MC does not currently know that.

By the time MC is an adult, the word still gets tossed around, but it's all pretty common knowledge, so you're not getting as much in general. The kids have grown up too, and they've stopped heckling poor MC, Lakota, and Oswin. And, oddly enough, Oswin both is and isn't a people-person. He treads the line there and it just depends on the person - which made it more difficult when he and MC fell out because he was still sociable and friendly to other people. In his late teen and adult years, he's actually reached a lot of popularity with the townspeople and local guard, as well as people in the cities he's helped. He's just quiet about it and isn't energetic about socializing. (He's also picky about who he talks with.)

With Nathanael, he's not one to tolerate malicious talk about people he respects, and he does have genuine respect for MC and company. Kip was the first customer in town to give his store a chance, and they hit it off with a good chat. Others have told him about MC's history, since it's probably one of the more interesting things about the town, and he would have heard their "ideas" and rumors about that. He would not be one to tolerate shit-talk though.

I hope this helps sate your curiosity, and I love that you're interested in this since it's not something I can dive into a bunch in-story as it would make for some very boring prose, lol. But there is a whole social community there that the MC was steeped complete with rumors, gossip, and both kind and cruel words. I enjoyed your Ted Talk and I hope you got something out of mine too! ^_^

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for not believing my friends new boyfriends "backstory"

I 20(F) am very close friends with a girl (20F) who we will call Alex. Alex recently got out of a really bad relationship with someone our age, and jumped very quickly into a new relationship with a man 14 years older than her, who we will call Ben. Alex and Ben are in the same community college class, and have known each other for 2 years as friends.

I have never actually met Ben. I am at a college several hours away and Alex is one of those people who like to keep friends she's made in different parts of her life separate from each other, like school friends all know each other but don't mix with collage friends, who don't mix with work friends etc. She says it's an autism thing but idk. She doesn't do this this romantic partners tho, she introduces them to all her friends and she's keen for me and Ben to meet now.

Recently, Alex has been telling me more about Ben, all the normal relationship stuff you'll tell your friends. He seems to be a lot better than her previous partner, but the bar is in hell, so it's not difficult to be a better partner (or person) than the previous guy. But idk a lot of the stories about his life she's told sound very far fetched? Like not impossible but more likely to happen in a soap opera than real life, you know?

The story that pushed me over the edge into complete scepticism was that apparently Ben had been online dating someone for several years who died unexpectedly, and their mother took over their computer after their death and pretended to be them for over a year until the mother died and lawyers involved in her will contacted Ben, and the mothers plot was revealed.

Now... that might not be impossible, but I'm smelling bullshit. When i have online dated before, we've spoken on voice chats, and on facetime, via Snapchats etc - did none of that happen for over a year? No new photos in over a year? Was this mother faking to all their mutual friends - some of which were IRL apparently- too or were they all in on it? Also, who is this mother who can perfectly copy her child's texting style, so much so that their long term partner didn't see a change? I know my mother and I text very differently, and the evil mother in this story was have been in her late 50s at the time, so I highly doubt that she and her mid-twenties child just so happened to text exactly the same way. Alex says Ben is rly into memes and meme culture too, and I really really doubt that a late 50s mother - grieving mother no less - is just going to instantly understand meme culture to the point where he wouldn't notice that his "partner" was behaving differently. Also, a lawyer is not going to an Internet boyfriend first when dealing with wills. They just arent. The whole thing sounds either fake, extremely exaggerated.

Alex did not take it well when I (gently) tried to point out the weird bits in this story. She got very defensive and claimed I was judging Ben just based on his age and looking for something to be upset about, and that I'm disrespecting his trauma by being sceptical. She said that because I've never met him I'm projecting bad vibes towards him based on my own assumptions. Idk maybe she's right and I'm being unkind AITA?

What are these acronyms?

[coffeebanana]

How would you recommend interacting with a writer. If a story wasn't to your taste, or left you unsatisfied. But you still want to encourage, the writer. And show gratitude for the free entertainment?

Hi anon!

The short answer is, a simple "thanks for the fic!" or "thanks for sharing!" or even a few emojis will often suffice. You really don't have to let the writer know what you didn't like. At the end of the day, they're not writing the fic for you, and obiously not every story is going to satisfy everyone the same way--otherwise we'd all be the same and that would be a horrendously boring world to live in.

The long answer is probably unecessary, but I like to procrastinate on my WIPs talk 😂

There's a format of commenting that goes a little like this: "i don't normally like [X ship, X trope, the way X acts in canon, etc...], but i love the way you do it!!" And honestly I myself have used that before--mostly for tropes, though possibly for some ships as well. And on the surface, that's reads as a compliment. Personally, when ppl leave me that sort of comment, I'll usually interpret it as a compliment too--unless they're full on bashing the thing I love (which sometimes happens with people criticizing canon). And I do think it's INTENDED as a compliment. (That's how I've meant it, when I used it, so I do try my best to also interpret others in good faith.)

But it can also read as "I don't like this thing that you really like and I felt the need to tell you that." Honestly, I didn't even realize it would come across that way until I saw someone else point it out. And then...yeah, I started to notice the fics I get it on more (A lot lot lot of my ladrien fics, lmao.)

So I'm at a weird cross roads where I try not to use that anymore--unless it's with someone I'm fairly sure will understand how I mean it?because sometimes you do have more of a rapport with certain ppl and they'll understand what you mean--but I also don't want to say it's 100% a bad thing to say. I really do understand the intent.

Anyways, my point in bringing that up is that you never don't know what seemingly innocent "this wasn't quite to my taste" comment is going to read as an insult. And so if you really DO want to encourage said writer, I'd recommend sticking to the positives.

Another big thing that's important to me personally is: don't lie.

People have a tendancy to...I don't want to say be disingenuous, but certainly to exaggerate at times on the internet. You see that in the SCREAMING CRYING EATING GLASS types comments. And those are USUALLY sincere in the way that the emotions they convey are sincere. We as a society understand they're not literally eating glass but that they're in agony because the angst in the fic was so good and they want more. But then--something I've noticed--that sort of lingo has a way of slipping into a default response of sorts. And sometimes that makes me question if people really mean it?

This second thing is probably more of a personal thing than a response to your question, but since it's something I've been thinking about lately I hope you don't mind that I brought it up too. I really don't want people to lie to me about my writing.

Not even if it's "to be nice".

Maybe this is in part because I myself find it...difficult to be insincere with ppl, but I don't want false compliments--that's something I tell my friends too. If I write a trope or pairing you don't like? There's never any pressure to read it. I don't expect comments or kudos from anyone. And I'm not someone who in general believes people are insincere--that's not really fair to other people. But everyone has doubts at some point, and I feel like adding to that by straight up lying to make someone feel better just isn't the way to go? If you can't pick out a detail from the fic that you genuinely enjoyed, then maybe keep it to the simple "thanks for sharing!"

So, I guess the TLDR is: keep it short and sweet. keep it encouraging if that's really your goal. (and, if this ever happens to be in reference to something that I specifically have written? please don't feel like you HAVE to say anything at all)

Thanks for the ask!! Sorry I went on for so long LOL💜

[deadbydangit]

Hi! Love ur work, hope your having a good day!! ^_^

How about a reader with photographic memory? Or Highly Superior Autobiographical Memory (HSAM?)

With Doctor, Evan, and Hillbilly

I'm sorry this took a bit. I've been very anxious lately. I hope you enjoy this, I had a difficult time with it.

With a Reader who has a photographic memory

Doctor, Trapper, Hillbilly

Doctor

Oh?

A photographic memory you say?

Well, let's test that.

It isn't that he doesn't believe you.

But facts such as this tend to be over exaggerated.

When it's revealed after several tests that you weren't over exaggerating?

His all for it.

He loves to see what your mind is capable of.

He'll show you pictures and ask you about little details.

And it's pretty helpful.

As smart as Herman is, he's a total scatter brain.

Literally, he'll leave brains around and forget where he put them.

"Dearest, have you seen that brain I've been dissecting?"

And you'll know right where it is.

Unfortunately, you've walked into his lab and seen things you really didn't want to see.

Now that's stuck in your head.

Herman feels bad about it.

To make up for it, he'll give you pretty pictures or take you to pretty places.

Trapper

That's nice dear.

He really could care less.

Photographic memory. Neat

Until he realizes how useful it is.

"Damn it! Where the Hell did I leave that trap?"

Over there.

And there it was.

His workshop is a disaster zone!

So he'll ask you to clean it up.

And with you there, he'll have a system to remember where everything is!

It's so helpful you don't even know.

Evan makes sure you know he isn't just using you for your talent.

Sometimes, he'll do something extra special, then do the exact same thing much later.

Nostalgia can be a fun thing, right?

And that's all he really wants for you.

To have fun and be happy.

Hillbilly

A photographic memory?

What's that?

Explain it to Max.

He still doesn't understand.

You'll have to do a demonstration of some type.

But now he thinks you're magical.

His memory is actually awful.

You can show him something one minute, then he'll immediately forget where it is.

Even big things!

So when you're able to find them?

"How did you find that!"

It was pretty much in front of him.

You're magical.

Explain to him you aren't.

He still thinks you're magical.

You have to be.

[deuterosapiens]

It is one-thirty in the morning, just a normal sort of September night. There's a cat stretched asleep on my bed, a raccoon being annoying outside my window. A clock chimed for the half-hour. I have finished Brothersong.

There's a kind of voice I like to use when I'm writing about these books. I tend to exaggerate my feelings a bit, joke about some of the weirder moments. There's a running vocabulary of stupid in-jokes throughout my posts; things I find amusing that I hope illicit at least an eye roll or a smirk.

I do not think I can maintain that level of self-amusement, right now. I don't want to, not for this one.

I am not exaggerating, playing it up or anything, when I say that I simply could not stop crying throughout the end. Ox's death, Joe's sacrifice, Thomas Bennett at the clearing. This was not fun, this was not pleasant, this was honestly very difficult for me to read.

Let's do a bit of basic addition: Wolfsong (498); Ravensong (496); Heartsong (468); Brothersong (468). One thousand nine-hundred and thirty pages total.

That's one thousand nine hundred thirty pages of love, heartbreak, beauty and death. I nearly dropped the first book halfway through because I was going through a break-up and Joe's decision to leave Ox behind in pursuit of the beast who murdered his father felt like too much at the time. I'm very glad I didn't, but I don't exactly feel glad in the sense that I'm particularly happy right now.

A few days ago, I mentioned how much I was stalling this book, because I knew I wasn't really ready to finish it. There's not exactly more to fall back on, you know?

Not another book, a new villain, a new perspective, or mystery, or awkward gay love to uncover. Just, an ending.

Hell, just finding the right way to talk about how I'm feeling right now, about the book in question, Brothersong, the book I just finished, isn't exactly going well for me.

I've said quite a bit about the late Thomas Bennett. I have been mildly curious about his letter to Joe's future mate, but doubted it would really make an appearance, since, there being no other book, there's no reason to have a viewpoint character read it that isn't Ox. I was wrong.

Ox is. He just is.

Gavin is, as I've said before, the type of man I would fall hopelessly for. Carter has his work cut out for him, but it's a wonderful future nonetheless.

Joe's no longer the Alpha of All, and I'm glad to see this. I'm happy for him. So much could have been avoided if this responsibility had not been given to him.

I'm glad there's exactly no clarity whatsoever on the Chris and Tanner situation. Whatever they've got works for them, and who am I to judge?

Gordo is free of the last of his demons. I hope Mark gets to smile more.

Kelly and Robbie will forever be the definition of "illegally cute couple". Sickening, really, but in a good way.

I just... what's next?

I love these idiots, and I'm glad most of them have a happy ending.

I'm going to leave this here, for personal reasons:

And, this, because it is very true to how these books are sitting with me now:

I think I'm turning in for the night. I've got work in the morning. I'll find another book to read, something that won't depress me as much.

As always, I am lying.

[fishyishy]

A3! Translation - Hyodo Kumon SSR 【MANKAI Treasure】 Treasure Hunt: KUMON (3/3)

Kumon: (I got the next hint from Tsuzuru-san, and I've come this far but....)

Kumon: The hint says "handmade accessories," so this accessory shop comes to mind.

Kumon: (But it seems like nobody is looking around here.....)

Kumon: ....Could it be that it's not this place at all!?

Kumon: (I was for sure that it was this place though...)

Kumon: What did I do after coming here that day? Um.....

Kumon: .....Ah! I see!

Kumon: This means it's over there!? Eeeek! Hurry up!

-----------------

Yuki: ......Ah, here it comes.

Kumon: There you are, Yuki! So it was this place after all!

Kumon: I thought it was totally our favorite accessory shop, so I went there instead!

Yuki: I see. Maybe it would've been easier if I had written "pink tea" or something like that.

Kumon: Ah! It's still on the menu.

Yuki: Looks like it. It's been a while since I came here too.

Kumon: That day was the first time I had ever heard about this tea~.

---------------------

*flashback*

Kumon: Urgh, not there.... where did it go?

Kumon: Come in~.

Yuki: Kumon....eh? What are you doing?

Kumon: Urgh, I'm searching for something.....

Yuki: ....If you're busy I can stop by later.

Kumon: No, it's fine! What's up?

Yuki: .....Here, I brought it because I made it.

Kumon: Ah! Could this possibly be the......!

Yuki: Yup. It's a bracelet I made with pieces I picked up at the sale yesterday. I brought it over because it was completed.

Kumon: Uwaa! It's super cute! Thank you! Yuki's a genius after all!

Yuki: Stop exaggerating.

Kumon: The size is perfect! What do you think? Does it suit me?

Yuki: Of course it does. I made it to suit you, after all.

Kumon: Hehe, that's true.

Kumon: I wish I could've matched that with this bracelet~.....

Yuki: What?

Kumon: I couldn't find the ring I bought the other day......I was actually just looking around my room for it.

Kumon: I was thinking about wearing it when I go hang out with my nii-chan next week but... Oh! That's right!

Kumon: Yuki, do you have time right now!?

Yuki: I mean I do but....

Kumon: Well then, let's go shopping together!

------------

Kumon: Hehe, thank you for going out with me, Yuki!

Yuki: You're welcome. I never thought I'd be dragged along to a shopping spree at your favorite accessory shop, though.

Kumon: It is the best to let Yuki choose accessories after all~!

Yuki: Well, the new releases were cute, and I'm glad I was able to see lots of different things.

Yuki: We happened to stumble upon this cafe too, and the pink tea here is cute.

Kumon: To put it into Kazu-san's words, it's totally Instagrammable, right!

Kumon: Okay, I'll try it on right away..... what do you think, does this ring suit me!?

Yuki: For some reason it feels like deja vu.

Kumon: Hahahaha, that's true! We had this conversation this morning.

Kumon: Aha! Yuki, please make me a ring next time!

Yuki: You're saying something unexpected again.....you just bought one.

Kumon: That's fine isn't it! It's fine to have a lot of rings.

Kumon: Besides, I don't hear a lot about handmade rings. Yuki can definitely make on, right?

Yuki: If you think about it, being able to make things properly is quite difficult.

Kumon: Eh? Really!?

Yuki: Well, maybe someday.

Kumon: Yeah! Someday!

Yuki: ....Okay then, after you finish your tea, come shopping with me.

Kumon: Okayyy! Leave it to me to be your bag carrier!

*end flashback*

-------------------

Yuki: In the end, the ring you thought you had lost turned out to be in your pocket.

Kumon: Yup yup! The inside of your pocket is totally a blind spot~.

Yuki: Please make sure to take care of things properly now.

Yuki: Well then, here's a present to you from me. It's been a long time since then but.... well

Kumon: No way, this is----

Kumon: I knew it! It's a ring......!

Yuki: It's a little late, but I made sure to make it properly.

Kumon: I'm super happy! Thank you!! The bag it comes in is cute too!

Kumon: ....Hehe, how is it!? Does it suit me!?

Yuki: Of course it does, I made it after all. I mean, it's the same as before after all.

Kumon: That's true!

Kumon: Hold on, it's the perfect size! How do you know my ring size!?

Yuki: I'm a psychic.

Kumon: For real!?

Yuki: That was obviously a lie. I measured it while you were asleep.

Kumon: When did you do that!? I had absolutely no idea. Yuki, you could become a ninja!

Yuki: Pfft, what's with that.

Yuki: Since I went through the trouble to make it, you better use it properly on a daily basis. It was quite hard to make, after all.

Kumon: Right! I really am thankful, Yuki!

-------------------

Kumon: Put the ring on like this....

Kumon: Yeah, it looks and feels good! I have a feeling I'll need to make sure to properly take pics....!

Kumon: Ne ne, Sumi-san, what do you think!?

Misumi: Yep! Nice photo~!

Kumon: Right! That's a relief~.

Kumon: Well then, let's post this...!

I received birthday presents! I'm super happy~! Thank you!

#ANiceBallpointPen #HandmadeRingByThatPerson

previous I

thank u! let me know if there are any mistakes.

[jayden-killer]

DREAMS ARE MY REALITY. (pt.3)

[part 1] [part 2]

What would happen if your favourite fictional character appeared in your bed...?

A/N: I perfectly know this chapter doesn't really make sense, I just ran out of ideas...

Taglist (write me down in the comments if you want to be added!): @strxngegirl @d1lf-loverrr @laysmt @musicalhistorical @souichi-sbitch @majestic-jazmin

☆

Perhaps I had exaggerated previously with Miguel. Maybe I should have told him differently, and I shouldn't have been so…blunt. There was something in my little head that told me I'd hurt him. That he was probably standing in the shower thinking about what I told him. It was a hard pill to swallow. Hearing someone suddenly tell you that you were all an invention, a drawing... And I probably shouldn't even have told him. I took a deep breath, even as I anxiously swung my leg, constantly moving it. Nervous tic, yes I know. I glanced at the clock: 10.47 am.

We just needed this! Miguel would have taken care of my house in my absence, right? Or maybe not… I could picture him sprawled out on the sofa in the living room, with a tub of Stracciatella ice cream from my freezer, and a blanket over his legs, sobbing at the hard truth as he watched “Gossip Girl.” Poor Miguel. He had already suffered, this was the cherry on top. Perhaps, on the way back, some pizzas would cheer him up. Did he like pizza?

For God's sake! This whole situation had led me to lose track of time, and this had meant that my commitments had been postponed until late in the morning!

«Oh, no… I have to go to the office too! I have to collect those cards, damn it!». I zig-zagged around the room, looking for the first clothes I found in front of me, and in fact my choice was very questionable, because I was wearing baggy trousers and a crumpled shirt. However, my hair looked no better than my clothes. Upon returning, a shower wouldn't have hurt. I began to rush downstairs and collect the last things, i.e. shoes and work backpack, but in my haste, I went back and climbed the stairs very quickly. Miguel would have been engulfed in a state of confusion, and he would have thought I had disappeared. Or maybe not. He's not stupid!

«Miguel» My fist pounded insistently on the door «I have things to do today, plus I'm mega late for work; so, you won't find me since…» I took a quick look at my watch. «Now on! I've got to go, make yourself at home» I didn't wait for an answer from Miguel, I didn't even know if he had heard me, but it didn't matter, because those papers on the desk wouldn't have filled in by themselves. I hurriedly put on my shoes and ran, hoping to make up for the time lost this morning. The air was humid and so warm; this wasn't what I was planning for today. Running wasn't the perfect choice too: I would have arrived all sweaty and tired.

══════⊹⊱≼≽⊰⊹══════

«Where did they go?». Miguel looked around bewildered, eyebrows arched down with an expression of pure confusion. Had they left him there without warning him? You without even saying goodbye? He clicked his tongue in disappointment and put on the gray shirt he was given. It fit a little tight, like the washer had shrunk the clothes after a wash, but this made him notice that it accentuated his six pack abs even more. He didn't make a fuss about it, after all it was all that person owned, and he would even have to thank them when he got back. Looking in the mirror a hand traced the outline of his jaw, going up to the left cheek. Miguel couldn't help but think that he seemed strange to be a fictional character. He had always felt real, like a real human being. It was difficult for him to think that it was a creation. All this was complicated for him. His thoughts drifted elsewhere and he began to think about how to fix his Gizmo. Lyla was not available in any way, precisely because his four-dimensional clock was out of order. He snorted in pure anger, then remembered that there was no point in getting angry, and that keeping calm was, of course, the best option; so he went down to the living room and took a look at the mess that surrounded the room.

«Dios mio, que pasò aquì?» Miguel exclaimed. His eyes weren't met with a pretty sight. There were cloths strewn everywhere, books and papers on the tables and floor, and even crockery that hadn't been washed. Miguel felt a sense of generosity overwhelm him, deciding that it wouldn't hurt if he tidied up the house. After all, he owed his host a debt. For him the day seemed to pass quite quickly (this was because he was busy with household chores), mopping the floor, dusting the furniture and sorting dirty clothes from clean ones, all to the musical accompaniment of Manuel Chao albums. It was 5 in the afternoon and he collapsed on the sofa, exhausted. He hadn't happened to do all these chores even at his house, but perhaps this was due to the order he maintained in his laboratory and apartment. Miguel hated dirt, so he hated mess. Now the house gave off a delicate clean scent and the man felt satisfied. But as soon as his back leaned against the back of the sofa, some keys turned in the lock of the main door and Miguel pricked up his ears: it was only the landlord who had left him in the morning, now with two pizza boxes in his hands and a plastic bag. «I'm back. Hey, what's that clean smell? I don't remember cleaning».

«That's because I cleaned».

«Oh».

«Yeah». Miguel took a breath and took the pizza boxes into his hands, depositing them on the kitchen island. They looked around and immediately realized that Miguel had cleaned their house while he was away. «Did you do everything yourself?» Miguel nodded and leaned his arms on the island. «But...why?».

«Because I had to repay. I am your guest now, consider me as a sorta of roommate. Ah, and because there was a mess everywhere».

They let out a laugh upon hearing that confession, shook their head and placed their hands on his hips. “I owe you one. Or maybe more».

«More than one» Miguel pointed out.

«Okay, O'Hara. I'll go wash my hands and then we'll eat this good pizza, yes?».

«Que chingados me ocurrió…».

He had to admit it, Miguel had never felt so welcome that this felt strange. His family had mistreated him so many times during his life that a proposition as trivial as simple as eating pizza with a person he had met that very morning seemed unreal. He'd felt strange and confused, but part of him couldn't take it. He wanted to make things better. He really wanted to help this time and be friendly. Even if that would take a long, long time, according to him. He nodded a second time, seeing his host walk away towards the bathroom. He breathed in and out, and ran a hand through his hair.

[beloved-daydreams]

Folktober2023 Prompt: "Horror movie marathon" 🎬📺 Friday 13th October

An attempt by

Hosted by @jurdannet and @jurdannetrevels

📘1 500+ words

😎Characters: Jude, Cardan, Vivi, Taryn and Oak.

✒️Tags: Jurdan, fluff, wholesome, quality time, familial bonds, implied TarynXThe Ghost/Larkin

Was made in a hurry so it might have some errors but you’ll deal with it 💖

✏️✏️✏️

Last week, Vivi came to visit completely unannounced. A movie marathon for Halloween! She said. It'll be fun! She assured us. Taryn tried to turn her down at first, being 7 months into her pregnancy, she understandably found the idea risky. But Vivi being Vivi, she would not give up. And frankly, Taryn did need some family time and support. With no parents, no siblings and no husband by her side, although she doesn’t want to admit it, it must surely be difficult.

Meanwhile, Cardan immediately agreed despite our status. The High Queen and High King going to the mortal world only to watch movies? It’s a rather shameless behavior to display so soon, but Vivi said it makes us audacious for some reason that I didn't quite understand. The audacity! Or whatever.

Though to be completely honest, I'm pretty sure Cardan only wants to go for the caramel popcorn and to see Oak again. Oak who's now the only member of his "lineage" that he more or less appreciates. I'm worried. Nephew and uncle are maybe starting to get along too much. When Vivi found out Oak had punched a kid at school, instead of feeling sorry or ashamed Oak said "Someone who doesn’t respect others shouldn't complain about getting payback." Cardan said it wasn't his fault and it sounded more like something I would say. I beg to differ but he likes my begging so I just agreed and moved on. Vivi noted that he’s turning out to be a sassy child.

Now, we're lying down on the carpet while Taryn and Oak are on the sofa, Vivi is making the popcorn. She still isn't entirely back to being together-together with Heather. Should've figured, if she were I don't think she would've invited us. I hope things turn out well for them.

"Who wants it with caramel!?" Vivi asks from the kitchen, her head tilted to the side from the doorway so she can see us.

Cardan and Taryn lazily raise their hands.

"Who wants it salted?"

Oak and I raise our hands. Cardan looks at Oak like he’s incredibly brave for that, I roll my eyes. Salt only reduces or stops a fae’s ability to use magic for a limited amount of time, it’s not that big of a deal. I swear Cardan loves to overreact and exaggerate the dumbest things. The other day, I came back dragging the head of a traitor behind me to show the folk they can trust me to protect them. Meanwhile, Cardan said, "You know I love you but please think about the smell it’ll leave on the carpets." Well, Cardan dear, we’re King and Queen, we can get new carpets anytime if the smell doesn’t wear off. Also, Taryn is terrific at home decor anyway, I bet she enjoys decorating and redecorating our halls.

Oak puts his small hand on Taryn’s belly, then his ear against it. He’s excited at the idea of becoming an "unkie" to his future niece like Cardan is to him.

As soon as Vivi’s back with the popcorn, the movie starts. The good thing about watching movies at home is that you won’t be done with the popcorn before the commercials end. And although she’s the one who invited us, she keeps talking over the movie’s beginning, asking us how we’re doing and what stuff has been going on in our "fairytale hellhole." Then it quickly goes to the uncomfortable questions.

"So. Rynryn, I heard that a half-fae dude has the hots for you. How’s that going?"

Taryn cringes.

"Oh please, Larkin is ridiculous. Trying to court a widowed woman who’s still pregnant with the child of her late husband? He has no delicacy."

Cardan raises an eyebrow.

"The husband who died by the hands of his wife, you mean." I hit him on the shoulder and he utters a fake sounding ow. Oak is right there, I widen my eyes at him to make him understand but what’s done is done. Oak turns to Taryn once again.

"Why did you kill your husband?" Oak asks curiously with no discernible malice in his gaze or voice. Taryn smiles politely.

"He didn’t bear for me the kind of love that satisfied me nor did he treat my opinions and feelings with enough respect. And you know what that means?"

"People with no respect deserve payback!"

Taryn smiles and puts her hand on Oak’s horned head to praise him. Cardan and I look at each other a bit astonished. So that behavior partly came from Taryn, huh. I’m afraid that at this rate, he’ll become an amalgamation of all of our personalities. No matter. Vivi presses a bit further, putting Taryn back on track which only results in complaints from Taryn’s part.

"I swear he only ever wears plain and boring outfits, even for revels and casual occasions. Not to mention he has no common sense, poor table manners and his attempts at flirting are horrid, frustrating and awkward. How is he supposed to be a spy and assassin if he can’t even put two and two together? No way can he gain the trust of any of his targets that way." She suspiciously over-explains everything wrong with Larkin. Vivi smiles at her knowingly.

"Hmm. I don’t know, to me it sounds like he already caught his target." Vivi says.

"Why are you paying so much attention to him?" Oak chimes in with more accusations.

Taryn shifts her attention back to the TV, a furrow forming on her eyebrows. She tells us we should focus on the movie instead of whatever she thinks of Larkin. Which is none of our business, by the way. And so we do, we watch. Cardan seems to display no particular difficulty in understanding the images and plot but he’s much more entertained by the popcorn. That is until it runs out and he lets himself get swept away. His tail stands up straight like a cat’s every time he’s surprised by the sudden sounds or imagery, namely the jumpscares. It’s cute how his face doesn’t show his fear at all, he seems to be completely unphased if you ignore the tail. I suppose it must’ve been why he hid it all those years. It puts his emotions on display. Making his feelings obvious.

Near the middle, Oak is too tired to continue watching. Vivi puts him to bed. Near the end, Vivi and Taryn somehow manage to fall asleep on the couch. Vivi most likely because she’s not scared of horror movies in the first place, and Taryn because our presence hopefully calmed her down. In the end, this was mainly for us to get together again. Vivi may be clumsy with her words sometimes, but she’s still the same older sister who hugged us when we got into trouble or scraped our knees while falling on the concrete grounds of our neighborhood. I sigh.

While trying to get up, Cardan stops me. He whispers.

"Let’s sleep here."

I widen my eyes at him.

"On the floor?"

"On the carpet, dear."

I roll my eyes.

"I’m sure Vivi won’t mind if we borrow her bed for the night, as long as…" I don’t finish but Cardan gives me a sly smile nonetheless which makes me hit his shoulder lightly.

We get up and I properly tuck Vivi and Taryn in, leaving them to sleep comfortably on the sofa. Then we go to Vivi’s room and make the bed together. Well. "Make" is a big word, we’re both embarrassingly inept at tidying things up since our attendants do it for us. We just cover the bed with a cover we’ll sleep on, tucked in under another new cover so we don’t have to truly "get" into her bed.

As we lay there about to fall asleep, Cardan attempts to talk to me before I manage to make my way into dreamland, as he often does.

"Don’t you miss such things? Movies, popcorn, late night talks with your siblings? We could do that more often."

I smile and grab his tail, pulling it to my front so I can play with the tuft to fall asleep faster. It relaxes me. Cardan has enough only with hugging me, his arms just under my chest, and if his hands wander around to go higher when I’m too tired, I hit them away and he gets the hint.

"It’s fine. I believe it’s better for me to slowly move away from that, eventually we could try meeting in Faerie all together. There won’t be movies anymore, but the food can be brought here."

I’m not sure what face Cardan is making right now, but I think he didn’t like that answer judging by how his tail is flailing around.

"Don’t give up on that. I wish I always had that." He pauses then squeezes me tighter in his arms. "Or is it because of…"

I want my body to stay strong and healthy. My case is arguably completely different from other humans since I’m the Queen, but I’m not willing to risk it. When I reach my mid thirties or so, I’m thinking of stopping my trips to the human world. I hold onto Cardan’s tail in confirmation. And as I start to believe this might be the end of the conversation, he says one last thing before we fall asleep.

"We could try to install electricity in Faerie…"

I smile.

✏️✏️✏️

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