#Squishy’s book of poems

[squishykitty825]

Solitude

I thought it was better

I thought things were finally taking a turn for the better

I thought things were at last starting to look up

But I was wrong

I was so wrong

This episode just never seems to end

This constant loop of never ending spiraling continues,

Growing and growing even as it eats its own tail

Everything was fine

Until it wasn’t

Until the constant presence of comfort was taken

Until that peaceful feeling of balancing between the highs and the lows was ripped from my grasp

And after a while it got better

But I guess it was just the calm before the storm

Nothing happened to dramatically change the tide

Unless you see the signs

Unless you saw the withdrawal of the tide for what it truly was

Retreat into yourself

Run away from the things you can’t control

Become what you fear the most

Because the bolter never sticks around long enough to face her problems

So she becomes her greatest fear;

Alone

[nobody-nexus]

Okay so like since it's canon that Pomni doesn't like physical contact, but not to the point where she isn't willing to touch others, I have a cute lil headcanons as to how this affects the ship Ragapom, or Jesterdoll as I like to personally call it (Also this has just a BUNCH of other headcanons that got nothing to do with the canon thing, but most involve the canon statement)

Pomni's love language is basically everything BUT touch. Words, poems, gifts, just existing near one another with some personal space, even butterfly kisses are ALWAYS an okay

Ragatha 1000% respects and understands Pomni's boundaries and won't touch her UNLESS Pomni does it first. If Pomni grabs Ragatha's hand, that means SHE is okay with hand holding. She may ask for a cheek kiss occasionally but Pomni HAS TO BE THE ONE TO ASK FIRST other then that Ragatha WILL NOT TOUCH HER

The only times where Pomni is touched without asking first is whenever there's danger and Ragatha's too quick to ask- however Pomni DOES understand that

Even with this lack of touch, there's ways to get around this. Pomni holding onto Ragatha's dress, one of them being wrapped in a blanket for cuddling, and stuff like that. Pomni purrs when she's content, so that's how they figured out physical contact without ACTUAL contact

Ragatha is UBER PROTECTIVE of others respecting Pomni's boundaries. Jax was the last one to be aware of the jester's distaste for touch, so the doll absolutely wrecking his shit was a good way to learn about the boundary

Unrelated to the rest of the hcs, Pomni's teeth are as expressive as her eyes. Her clean slate teeth can turn sharp if aggressive and/or unhinged, and if she smiles big enough, she naturally has fangs

In cade they have long nights, Ragatha always asks if she's allowed to carry Pomni to her room in case she gets tired. No matter how many times she asks, Pomni will say yes because she'd rather be in a bed then passed out on the floor

Pomni is more okay with touching others then people touching her, so whenever Ragatha needs stitching, she'll be willing to help (even though she's absolute ASS as sewing)

Pomni LOVES certain textures. Her top favorite ones are squishy and fluffy/warm (thus why she loves blankets so much)

If Pomni's having an episode, Ragatha will sit near her and calmly talk, giving her things to hold/wrap herself in. She won't invade her boundaries unless Pomni, verbally or nonverbally, asks for some like cuddles or hugs so she can let it all out

Ragatha constantly has red lipstick on in case Pomni asks for a kiss, just so the others KNOW that Pomni's hers

Pomni has no nicknames for Ragatha, but the doll has SO MANY FOR HER. Ragatha's favorites are Pom-pom, Princess, Sweetie, Lil Jester, Pitre (Clown in French), and Kitten. Pomni easily gets flustered by any and all of these nicknames

No surprise I think Pomni's on the spectrum, and Ragatha knows when Pomni's overstimulated with the environment. She'll help her walk to a less colorful and loud area to help her calm down

Of course, Ragatha herself has her moments, so to comfort back, Pomni will read to the doll until she either sleeps or feels better. Even if its poems and books Ragatha's heard a tousand times, hearing Pomni's voice helps her

Pomni's least favorite texture is carpets. GOD she hates carpets

Ragatha bakes! She mostly bakes muffins (Caine doesn't know she does this)

Jax, being a worse wingman ever, quite literally pushed Ragatha over to land atop of Pomni one time. The touch left Pomni stressed and Ragatha yelled at the rabbit

I think that's everything. I hope you enjoy the headcanons! There's also a Roxica one I'm working on so stay tuned lol

[theink-stainedfolk]

Writerblr Interview

Thank you for the tag @drchenquill ♡♡♡

Short stories, novels or poems?

I like reading and writing both Short stories and Novels. Poems are hard for me to write and even harder to understand 😭😭😭😭 all my friends that i made in school/college are great poetess and i always try my best to support them though their poetry is often confusing my braincells.

What genre do you prefer reading?

I prefer reading Crime Thriller, Psychological Thriller, Suspense, Political Intrigue,YA Fantasy, Dark Fantasy, Enemies to Lovers and Magical Realism. Lately I've been scooting towards Adult fantasy or what most people would call "Dark Academia ". Also, i don't really mind if the characters are queer or not. To me, sexuality doesn't define a good story or characters, though it adds a bit of more charm to them.

What genre do you prefer writing?

Same as the above, but with romance.

Are you a planner or a write-as-i-go kind of person?

When i plan things for my wips, they don't go as i plan. So i am the 2nd type. Because i came to believe that in order to write the story, the story must also progress itself.

What music do you listen to while writing the story?

I usually don't but i have this playlist of my favourite songs that i can listen in any situation. Sometimes i try to listen the songs based of the situation happening in my wip but the songs sometimes are super boring.

Fav books/movies

There are so many I'd rather not write it here. I'll just say some of my favourite books are Sorcery of Thorns, The Caraval Series, A Good Girl's Guide To Murder series, Babel, Piranesi and The Will of The Many. Etc..

Any Current WIPs?

Yes... so many... too many...😭😭😭😭 Thorn-Kissed ,

Legacy of Creation , Shades of Erudition, The Masque of Murder, Whispers of Shadow and love, The Veil of Allegiance etc..

If someone were to make a cartoon out of you, what would your standard outfit be?

Very nice question. It would be abaya obviously but beneath it, I imagine my standard outfit would be a stylish yet practical ensemble. I'd likely wear a well-fitted jacket or blazer with a subtle pattern, paired with a comfortable, versatile top underneath. My pants would be sleek, maybe dark jeans or tailored trousers, allowing me to move freely. I'd have a pair of sturdy but fashionable shoes, perhaps ankle boots but i also love me some knee-length boots because it's hot. Accessories would include a distinctive watch and maybe a scarf or a book bag, reflecting my love for stories and creativity. Overall, my outfit would balance sophistication with comfort.😁

Create a character description of yourself

Meet me, a confident writer with a secret: I'm actually a self-conscious mess when it comes to my looks (don't mind my frazzled hair and questionable fashion choices). My brain is a storytelling factory, bursting with ideas and characters begging to be set free. But honestly, I just want to escape my stressful home life and find a peaceful cave where I can write in peace. As an ambivert, I can charm you (or not, depends on my mood) and engage in witty banter, but don't be fooled – I need my alone time to recharge. My sharp tongue and sarcasm might come across as rude, but deep down, I'm a squishy emotional marshmallow. When I'm not writing, you can find me binge-reading, K-pop/J-pop dancing, or obsessing over K/C/J/T dramas (don't judge me). Just be warned: I can talk for hours about my passions, but also respect my need for solo time – it's like refueling my creative tank! Friendships are my jam, but apparently, my friends don't prioritize them as much (ouch, harsh reality check!). Despite that, I remain a loyal and caring friend, always ready to lend a listening ear or a sarcastic quip. In conclusion, I'm a lovable, quirky writer with a heart of gold (i hope so), a dash of sass, and a whole lot of creativity. Just don't mind my insecurities, and we'll get along fabulously!

Do you like incorporating people you actually know into your writing?

No, not really. But i think i did it once or twice.

Are you kill-happy with the characters?

Sometimes i do it for the story and atmosphere (bye Hiram,sorry but Gentian didn't deserve you) i kill antagonists but i don't know honestly. But i do kill if necessary.

Coffee or Tea while writing?

Neither. Just my tears 🥲👍🏻

Slow or Fast writer?

I'm in the middle. Sometimes when the idea strikes, i write in a hour or so. But sometimes I'm just staring at the ceiling.

Where/who/what do you find inspiration from?

Anything anywhere anyone.

If you were put into a fantasy world, what would you be?

A very lethargic peraon with no motivations or anything. I hope it remains that way, but since this is a fantasy world, my peaceful life will come to an end due to some traguc events and someone will provoke me and my sole motivation will ignite.

Most fave book cliche?

👀 [redacted] just kidding. Enemies to lovers, fist/daggers talk instead of pillow talk. Enemies, one sided enemies, rivals. And they were roomates, one bed, fake dating to escape the situation, hidden heir, fake stranger, mysterious stranger,etc.

Least fave book cliche?

Brother's friend.... teacher student romance... insta love, mary sue protagonist, rich guy poor woman, love interest with no personal goals, stereotypical villains, stereotypical diverse characters, unrealistic relationships, cliched character archetypes, rushed endings, etc.

Fave scenes to write?

Anything with heavy feels. Like angst, romantic scene, character death, plot twist reveals, distressing situations etc.

Most productive time of day for writing?

When the inspiration is there, any time is fine but mostly at night.

Reason for writing?

Because i love writing stories and love sharing it to others in hope that they'll also enjoy as much as i do. My reason is simple.

I'll tag @finickyfelix @willtheweaver @leahnardo-da-veggie @illarian-rambling @winglesswriter @paeliae-occasionally @the-golden-comet @graveyardshift111 @thecomfywriter @roarintheheavens

[mystical-sleepy-musings]

MORPHEUS

Greek god of Dreams and head of the Onerioi

SOURCES

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

"Bullfinch's Mythology"

Author:Thomas Bullfinch

[Theoi.com|https://www.theoi.com/]

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Ethereal Morpheus

The painter of slumbers

The stroke of your brush

Brings to light

Forms familiar

Gossamer in nature

With pictures of conciousness

|Who is Morpheus?|

Morpheus: The Shaper , The Lorekeeper, The One Who Forms, The Raven Haired One and The King of Dreams and Nightmares. Morpheus usually appears in the guse of a human or in the form you are most comfortable with( (he appears to me as Dream of the Endless but with slightly altered features). He is the black winged leader of The Oneiroi, which are the thosuand dream spirits who slumber within the same cave as Hypnos their father. Through the gates of horn and ivory, they fly out like a flock of bats . The gate of horn is said to bring truthful dreams while the gate of ivory is said to bring falsehoods. The Odyssey located the realm of dreams past the streams of Oceaus close to Asphodel Meadows, which is a part of the underworld where the spirits of the dead reside. They are all winged in a way(winged ears or wings on their backs) when not appearing in dreams. He has two other named Oneiroi siblings known as Icelus/Phobetor who is the fearsome one of Nightmares who appears as animals and monsters in dreams and Phantasos the oddly whimsical one who appears as objects in his fantastically woven dreams..the rest of the Oneiroi are unnamed..

|Mythology|

Morpheus sadly does not appear in many myths but some speculate that he was the nameless dream spirit that Hypnos sent out to the grieving Alcyone whose husband Ceyx died at sea after a visit from Iris(who was sent by Hera) goddess of rainbows. Morpheus appeared in her dreams, taking the shape of her dead lover to tell her that he perished at sea. But Alcyone, after seeing her husband's corpse wash up on the shore, couldn't bear this news and tried to end her life, but she and her husband got turned into kingfishers. Also, a neoclassical painting by Pierre- Narcisse Guérin portrays Iris coming within the dark cave, filling it with blinding radiance, and apparently, she also stirs up Morpheus from his slumbers.

|My Experience|(*UPG)

Morpheus is my patron deity, who is like a father to me. He apparently had been watching over me ever since I was little but did not introduce himself until the time was right. Morpheus, to me, appears as Dream of The Endless from The Sandman but with wings. Sometimes, he has dark, inky eyes and wild hair like in the comics or looks more like Tom Sturridge in Netflix's The Sandman. Morpheus is very serious and quiet(I'm like that as well lol) but is very sweet and overprotective as well. He has infinite patience, apparently, which is even more impressive considering I work also with the loud and loveably obnoxious Icelus who is his chaotic brother. He sees me as one of his children and student being a no nonsense mentor and father figure...unlike a certain someone I know who kept messing around by picking The Emperor knowing Morpheus already took that option while we were trying to establish a tarot card for him. His energy is so gentle and calming, making him very helpful if one has anxiety (like me) or trouble sleeping. He likes to hum and give snuggles to me or to the various plushies I have set out for him (I have two squishy unicorns that are filled to bursting with his energy due to him smothering them). I have no words for how freaking grateful I am to have such a lovely deity as my patron!

|Associations|

[IC]*Note this is mostly UPG*

Animals and Creatures

Ravens and crows

Cats

Nocturnal rodents like raccoons and Possums*(upg)

Butterflies

Rabbits*(upg)

Unicorns*(Upg)

Colors*(all upg)

Dark blues

Black

Purples

Some light blues

Teal

Silver and white

Misc Objects

Feathers

Skulls

Keys*(upg)

Paintings*(upg)

Books or poems(*upg)

Anything related to The Sandman by Neil Gaiman*(upg)

For some reason, he loves surreal memes and laughs like a growly Seth Rogan*(upg)

Soft stuffies and plushies*(upg)

Foods and Drinks

Popcorn*(upg)

Chocolate

Calming teas

Blackberries*(upg)

Anything really as long as it's not caffeine(coffee, energy drinks) or overly sugary(like peeps marshmallow candy type of sugary) because in his eyes it's the thought that counts

Incense and Oils

Sandalwood

Lavender

Any calming and lightly scented blends

Planet

Moon

Music*(all upg btw)

Classic and Progressive rock

Funk

Psychedelic rock

Just 60s and early 70s music

Soft rock

Swing and 50s music

He LOOOVES Pink Floyd , David Bowie, The Church , The Doors and Echo and The Bunnymen

He only likes one metal song and that is "Enter Sandman" by Metallica

Tarot card

The Emperor*(upg)

The Moon

Crystals

Amethyst

Selenite*(upg)

Blue agate

Ruby *(upg)

Rose Quartz*(upg)

Herbs and flowers

Mugwort

Hydrangea*(upg)

Lavender

Poppies

Chamomile

[lexiklecksi]

Meet the writer (tag game)

Thanks for tagging me @writernopal this was so much fun!

Three fun facts about me:

Turquoise is my favourite colour! I love literally anything that is turquoise, and most stuff I own was bought simply for its perfect turquoise colouring.

I fall asleep with an ice cone named Squishy in my arms (it's a very squishable plushy).

I have a tattoo of a jellyfish on my upper left arm because jellyfish are fricking cool.

Favorite season: Spring! When winter is finally over and all the leaves start sprouting and flowers are blooming, a warm breeze caresses your skin – today was a perfect spring day!

Continent where I live: Europe (to be more specific: Germany)

How I spend my free time: This greatly depends on my current special interests and hyperfocus. I have many creative hobbies like writing (obviously), crocheting, drawing, painting, crafting, making jewellery, collecting stuff (like crystals) and reading as many books as I physically can. While being creative, I usually listen to alternative music or (mostly true crime) podcasts. Plus, I enjoy long walks in nature or around my city.

Are you published? I self-published an anthology of my German poems (you can buy it here) and I am currently writing a ya fantasy novel (read more about it here).

Introvert or extrovert? This is very hard to answer. I am introverted in groups and very anxious in crowds, but with just a bunch of people I can be very extroverted. So I'm an ambivert.

Favourite meal: I love food and many cuisines – it's nearly impossible to choose! My favourite Cypriot dish: grilled octopus tentacles.

I'm tagging @betweenthetimeandsound @wheres-all-the-tea-gone @nerdragons-hoard @charlies-storybook @e-lisard @sourrcandy @silent-creed @bardic-tales @ghost-town-story @junypr-camus @cheshawrites @xiyais @onomatopiya

Template and picrew link under the cut!

Three fun facts about me:

Favorite season:

Continent where I live

How I spend my free time

Are you published?

Introvert or extrovert?

Favourite meal:

[redmeansdead]

[Opens up to a photo of a boy and ten girls who are his sisters around him; all except one of them are smiling.] Lincoln: [to the viewers] "Ever wonder what it's like to grow up in a big family? Well, don't let the picture fool you! It's not all sugar and spice. Don't believe me?" [He opens the door to reveal plenty of chaos going on caused by his sisters; such as a baby playing with pots and pans, one sister reading a poem, one sister dressed up like a mummy in some white cloth substance chasing another sister wearing a pretty dress who is screaming in terror, one sister playing Football in the house, one sister angrily chasing another grinning sister through the halls, and one sister playing on a guitar.] "Welcome to...the Loud House." [Depending on which version of the pilot you see, the title may or may not show up. Lincoln closes the door and stretches a little.] "Surviving in a big family can be challenging, even the little things, like getting a turn in the bathroom. Which is why I give you..." [as he speaks, a caption with the following words shows up] "Lincoln Loud's Three P's to go Poo and Pee. You're gonna need Patience, Perseverance, and most importantly, Problem Solving. With these three steps, you'll get into the bathroom every time." [starts straining] "Which is important. Especially if you wait until the very last second to go!" [busts out comic book] "Into the breach!" [Heads out the door]

Lincoln: "Luna? A little traveling music?" Luna: "You got it, bro. One, two, three!" [starts jamming on her guitar and fulfills her brother's request.] [Lincoln begins his journey down the hallway to the bathroom.] Lucy: "Hey, Lincoln, you wanna hear my poem?" Lincoln: "I do, but I have a pressing engagement." [His funny sister Luan stops him in his tracks.] Luan: ""Lincoln! Smell my new flower!" [squirts water from flower, but Lincoln ducks just in the nick of time.] Lincoln: "Ha! Did you really think I'd fall for-" Luan: [suddenly squirts water from a flower on her left shoe into Lincoln's mouth.] "It's not easy being this good." [laughs] Lynn: "Clear the track!" [Lincoln does a spit take and gets out of the way for Lynn.] Lynn: "Comin' through!" [plays a bizarre sport involving wearing a football helmet, riding a motorbike, and hitting a tennis ball with a hockey stick; crashes into wall.] "SCORE!!!" [Lincoln tries to continue but is stopped by his little sister Lola.] Lola: "Hold it, Lincoln. Play 'Fashion Photographer' with me!" Lincoln: "I would Lola, but I really have to-" Lola: "YOU PLAY, OR I'LL TELL MOM YOU WERE READING COMICS ON THE ROOF IN YOUR UNDERWEAR AGAIN!" Lincoln: [makes an embarrassed side glance to the viewers and then starts taking photos of Lola as she poses for the camera.] "Work the camera! Uh-huh! That's it! Show me what you got!" Lily: [walking in the background] "Poo-poo!" Lincoln: "Who's a beauty queen?" [enter Lola's twin Lana carrying a pile of mud in her hands.] Lana: "Lincoln!" Lola: "Hey! I'm working here!" Lana: "Check out my mud pie! It's nice and squishy!" [squishes it and smears it all over Lola's face.] Lincoln: [with too much pressure] "Gotta go!" [continues] Lucy: [out of nowhere] "Now?" Lincoln: "Still pressing!" [leaps over his little sister Lisa who is writing a mathematical formula on the wall.] "Don't forget to carry the 1!"[she glances at him] Leni: [trying to use the vacuum cleaner] "Does anyone know how to turn on this sucky thingy?" [turns it on but also vacuums up Lincoln's shirt and pants leaving him in just his underwear now.] "Got it!" [Lincoln is almost in the bathroom, but his oldest sister Lori cuts in front of him and refuses to let him in.] Lori: "Beat it, twerp." Lincoln: [hopping around] "Come on, Lori! No fair! I was here first!" Lori: "Well, I was born first!" [shuts herself in the bathroom.] [As Lincoln has to endure the pressure even longer, Lucy walks over.] Lucy: "It looks like you have time now." [commences poem] "My love is like water. Bursting forth. Like a dam breaking. All control lost. Water rushing, churning, turning landscape to mud. Time runs out. Water. I feel the impending doom. My love" [While she recites her poem, every word from it causes Lincoln to feel even more pressure and have to go even worse than before; suddenly, Lily walks by with a full diaper and the stink nauseates Lincoln.] Lincoln: "Ugh! Could clear a room!" [gets an idea] "Could clear a room! Time to put the third P: Problem Solving into action."

[In the bathroom, Lori is applying lipstick until she hears Lincoln opening the door.] Lori: [irked] "I said I was-" [suddenly sees something horrifying and gasps.] "What are you doing with that?" [The door closes and whatever is occurring cannot be seen, but it only causes Lori to panic.] Lori: [terrified] "Lincoln, I'm warning you! Keep that thing away from me! Lincoln! LINCOLN!" [opens the door and runs out in horror.] "AAAAHHHH!!!" [Lincoln comes out wearing the vacuum's nozzle like a gas mask and Lynn's football helmet for protection; his other sisters look on in bewilderment and Lincoln reveals that he held Lily's dirty diaper by Lynn's hockey stick as a way to chase Lori out of the bathroom.] Leni, Luna, Luan, Lynn, Lola, Lana, and Lisa: [elated] "YAY!!!" Lucy: [nonchalantly] "Yay..." [A giggling Lily scurries across the hall now naked; Lincoln then tosses his literal baby sister's soiled padding into the trash.] Lincoln: [wrapping up] "Like I said, surviving in a big family can be challenging. But it's not impossible. Now, if you'll excuse me...pressing engagement!" [closes door to finally use the toilet.] "AWW, YEAH! WOO, SWEET RELIEF! WOO-HOO-HOO-HOO!!! [notices something] "Hey! We're out of toilet paper! Guys! There's no toilet paper! Someone! Can someone bring me a new roll?!" [Unfortunately for him, his sisters are causing too much of a ruckus in the hall to hear his pleas.] Lincoln: "CAN ANYONE HEAR ME?! ANYONE! PLEASE!!! HELP!!!" [The title card for the show and its creator, either the original design or the final version for it, pops up for the Loud House.]

this is retribution sent down to me for the crime of sending my brother as much of the bee movie script as would fit into a tumblr ask and making his blog glitchy as fuck for about a month after he answered the ask

[wandringaesthetic]

I think it's cool to jump into a series in the middle and it doesn't really make less sense than starting from the beginning, because "oh I get that reference" and "oh, that's what that was about" are basically the same experience

I'm talking about Final Fantasy and I'm talking about Ahsoka here, but also. When I read the later books of Stephen King's The Dark Tower I knew that those books were in part inspired by Robert Browning's 1850s poem Childe Roland to the Dark Tower Came, but I didn't know THAT poem was inspired in part by King Lear, so when I was reading that play years later I got fucking jumpscared by Lear ranting about "Rowland" and The Dark Tower.

And since the Dark Tower is all about time and dimensions being squishy and everything being connected, that was.... especially effective for me and lent weight to both stories.

[andy-clutterbuck]

Essential Poems (To Fall In Love With) | 2003 | "Advice to Lovers"

[squishykitty825]

What is this feeling in my chest?

Why does it feel so tightly wound like the string on a guitar

It pinches my lungs

Making it harder and harder to breathe

Why can’t I just breathe deeper?

This tightness squeezes harder,

Bringing spots into my vision,

Matching my darting gaze and my fidgeting fingers

Can’t stop moving

Can’t stop twitching

Can’t breathe

Nothing feels right

Everything is wrong wrong WRONG

It won’t go away

This feeling

This endless

Pit

Of

Nerves

Help me

I want to whisper

Scream

Cry out

But I can’t

I’m stuck

Frozen in time and space

Waiting for this feeling to go away

Waiting

Waiting

Waiting

Waiting

[redorich]

for the hermit canyon, i humbly request:

Etho messing with Karl and maybe like, Lazarbeam or Fundy, by pretending he’s moth man.

Quackity stalks through the woods, blissfully unaware of its other inhabitants-- not that he would care, if he knew. No, tonight, under the full moon (because it's romantic) he makes his move.

The Hermit, as Quackity is completely sure of, is a beautiful young woman with long flowing hair as white as snow. Because she is a creature of untold power and beauty, fairy tale logic obviously applies. Therefore, if Quackity can steal her clothes, she will have no choice but to marry him and they will live happily ever after as big booty bitches in love.

Nodding to himself, Quackity feels assured in his logic. He's wearing his favorite assless chaps, his best pair of knockoff Yeezys, and no shirt. He is ready for what is to come.

---

Karl lurks deep in the forest, illuminated only by the moon. He leans against a tree, taking care not to disturb his outfit-- he is camouflaged as a bush. Dangling strips of green and brown fabric cover his body, and his limbs are completely hidden in the costume so long as he stands still. It's a daunting task, standing still in the dark, dangerous woods at night. Nevertheless, Karl knows that this is what he must do.

"Triclops Mothman, my beloved," he whispers into the night. He will find Mothman, and he will marry Mothman. There is no alternative.

---

Far away from both Karl and Quackity, though still in the same spruce forest, Sapnap angrily prowls. Well, he'd describe it as a prowl. Truthfully, it's more of a pouty stomp. He knows that this forest has had multiple "Hermit sightings", and Sapnap wants-- no, needs what he's after.

"Hermit!" he screams into the night. "Come out and fight me, you little bitch! Man on man!"

To emphasize his point, he bangs a pot and a pan against each other several times. Sapnap is getting his revenge for that little ravager prank, one way or another.

---

Deep within the canyon walls, the Hermit complex looks like an overturned anthill with all its activity. It's Halloween night come early.

"I'm not wearing a dress," Etho insists.

Grian whines, "But Etho, I made it just for you! It matches Stress's outfit."

Stress, upon hearing her name, looks up from her book and waves. Cleo is currently fiddling with the thick mane of synthetic white hair Stress is wearing, styling the wig into a princess-y type braid.

"I'll say it again," Cleo says, looking very intently into Etho's eyes, "I could take your place."

"No," Etho sighs. "If what Puffy said about these guys is true, you'd probably bite someone's face off by the end of the night."

"You're no fun," Cleo huffs, but acquiesces.

"At least put on the wig," Grian demands.

Grian and Etho have a staring contest for a solid ninety seconds before Etho snaps his fingers in front of Grian's face, causing him to flinch and blink. "You cheater--!"

"I'll wear the wig," Etho interrupts Grian. Instantaneously, Grian loses his outraged moue.

Cleo sighs. "They're the same wig, right? Do I have to braid Etho's hair, too?"

"I think I'll be fine with my new flowing, luscious locks," Etho says with a humorous crinkle to his eyes.

They all laugh as Etho dramatically flips his fake hair, whipping himself in the face with it in the process. He also receives a thumbs up from Joe, who is in the process of searching for his contact lenses because "Herobrine doesn't wear glasses", according to Bdubs.

Night falls, and the Hermits are prepared. They hope their victims aren't.

---

Quackity catches a glimpse of silver-white after so long searching in the woods. With a little gasp, he eagerly pursues it. His beautiful maiden, ethereal and distant like the moon, darts between trees and leaps across creeks like she is flying, like her feet barely touch the ground.

He follows her to a clearing, but when he bursts through the brush into the open space, she is nowhere to be found.

“Mi rey!” he wails, “Fantasma hermosa! Come to papi!”

Etho, hiding in a tree about five feet away, has no clue what any of those words mean. He affects a terrible falsetto and throws his voice. “Hello, Quackity.”

Quackity jumps, looking around wildly for his beautiful girlboss queen. “Hermit?! You know my name?”

“Of course, Quackity,” Etho says, hefting a large rock in his hand. “Come closer, I have a cask of Amontillado we can share.”

Quackity turns toward Etho's voice just fast enough to catch a glimpse of the Hermit's mask, his (fake) long white hair, his decidedly not female appearance. Quackity looks the Hermit up and down. Etho has never felt more Perceived.

"What's a place like you doing in a guy like this?" Quackity says, flirtatiousness dripping from his voice.

Etho eyes the man's assless chaps with distaste from his crouched perch in a tree. Quick as lightning, he chucks the heavy rock in his hand at Quackity's head, knocking him out instantly.

Etho jumps down from his tree with a huffed sigh. "Well," he says, grabbing Quackity by the ankle and dragging him, "time to get to work."

---

"Pspspsps," Karl whispers, "heeeere Mothman..."

The sound of a twig snapping to his right makes Karl freeze, then turn ever so slowly. There's no one there. Karl holds his breath for what feels like an eternity, but is eventually forced to admit that the noise was probably just an animal. Surely, a creature of Mothman's size would make more noise when he walks, given the weight of his strong legs.

"Mothman," Karl says. "I wrote you a poem!"

Joe, who was up until this point hiding behind trees and ominously snapping twigs, feels a twinge of morbid curiosity. As a poet, he absolutely has to know what Karl considers an adequate love poem for Mothman.

With red cheeks, Karl professes his love:

"Your feelers make me feel so sweet

Your hindwings set my heart aflame

Fern-like antennae make me melt

And Mothman, you're to blame."

Despite himself, Joe is a little bit impressed. It almost makes him feel bad about what he's about to do-- almost.

A soft eerie glow seeps into the forest, catching Karl's eye. He investigates, creeping forward until he turns around a tree and sees glowing white eyes. He screams, but there is no sound, and the forest has disappeared. Only those eyes remain, and they too flicker out of existence.

There is a dim corridor ahead of him, narrow and lit by redstone torches. At the end, there is an iron door. He runs to the exit, but as soon as his hand touches the door it disappears and he is engulfed by swirling purple-- like a Nether portal, but so much more terrifying.

The purple is gone and he can just barely make out the menacing image of a man with glowing white eyes T-posing in the blackness. Karl opens his eyes and wakes up on the forest floor, prone and sore.

"Right," he mutters breathlessly to himself, "Mothman is not interested."

---

"--YOU BITCH ASS PUNK, I'M GONNA RIP YOUR LEGS OFF AND STICK 'EM ON YOUR HEAD!" Sapnap screams, banging the only pot he owns against a non-stick frying pan he stole from George.

"Well, that's not very nice, innit?" says a feminine voice. Sapnap looks left, right, behind him, up in the trees... then down.

Big brown eyes peer up at him through white bangs. A displeased pout set into a moon-pale face attached to an equally moon-pale woman chastises him without words.

"...You're the Hermit?" Sapnap says disbelievingly. He has his doubts that someone as small and pretty as this woman could wrangle a ravager onto his front lawn.

"You wanted a fight," she huffs. "And for the record, you totally had it coming, with Pamela's Revenge-- remember, the rava--"

"Yes, I know the ravager was named Pamela's Revenge! There were like eight hundred million death messages in chat about it, you jackass!" Sapnap snaps, trying to cover up his unease. It's not that he's hesitant to hit her because she's a girl; he would deck the shit out of Niki or Puffy with absolutely no provocation whatsoever. It's just that... she looks soft. Like a non-combatant. It would be too easy, too cruel--

Stress punches Sapnap in the jaw with a wicked right hook. "Stealing is wrong," she says.

While Sapnap is dazed and quite possibly mildly concussed, Stress follows up with a brutal kick to the shin. Sapnap makes a genuine effort to fight back, and he’s no slouch, but he’s been taken so thoroughly off guard that the best he can do with his head spinning as it is is to swing with a wild haymaker and hope it hits.

His fist makes contact with something soft and squishy. He hears a grunt, but Stress shoves him over onto the ground and dumps a bucket of glitter over his head. It burns his eyes, but more importantly it burns his pride. He doesn’t remember at what point he dropped his pot and pan (he must have at some point, because he punched the Hermit with an empty fist), but he’s angry enough to open his watery eyes through the magenta glitter and snatch George’s frying pan up off the forest floor, hurling it at the Hermit with devastating accuracy. She yelps, blocking with her forearm at the last moment.

“Knew I shoulda let Etho...” Sapnap hears the Hermit mutter. What’s an Etho?

Stress irritably bonks Sapnap on the head with the pan he threw at her. He goes limp like a ragdoll, and Stress sets about maneuvering his body into a sitting position leaned against a tree so she can do his makeup while he sleeps.

“Hope I don’t poke his eye out!” she says. “Ah well, he’s got two anyway. Now, should I go for a cute, summery look, or a dark evening look?”

---

In Atrium 1 of the Hermit Canyon complex, Puffy laughs loud and clear, clutching her paper cup tightly so she doesn’t spill her fruit punch. "No,” she chokes out, “he didn’t.”

Cub, holding a similar paper cup, waves his hand in a vague gesture. “Yep. That’s Etho for you. You know, one time he got Doc to run around with a snowman head on, eating spider eyes?”

“Oh man,” Puffy sighs, wiping a tear of laughter from the corner of her eye. “I’m so glad I snitched on Karl, Quackity, and Sapnap. I can’t wait to see their reactions!”

Cub grins evilly. “Stress got pictures before she left.”

Puffy gasps, stars in her eyes. “I’ll bake you a whole cake if you get me a copy.”

“I’ll bake Cub a whole cake if he gives them to me instead,” Grian interjects from across the room. “I don’t need them, I just want to take them from you.”

“Nooooo!” Puffy wails melodramatically. “Grian, please spare me!”

“Five diamond blocks,” Grian makes his demand.

Puffy continues to fake-sob, pretending not to notice Scar sneaking up on Grian until Scar drops an anvil on Grian’s head, like a Looney Tunes episode but slightly to the left. While Grian is distracted, Cub slips the pictures to Puffy, who puts them in her inventory without looking.

Etho walks into the Atrium, now dressed as his normal self, including his natural hair, which looks like an angry wet cat perched atop his head, just the way he likes it. Everyone cheers.

“So, how’d it go with Quackity?” Puffy asks with a smirk.

“Well...” Etho says.

---

Quackity wakes up with the sun in his eyes. In front of him is the public Nether portal, and standing right in front of it is a wide-eyed Sam, staring directly at him. Quackity looks down.

He’s naked, covered in half-dried honey, and tied to a pole like the world’s sexiest flag. And he’s got the world’s worst hangover-- it feels like he’s been hit in the head with a large rock.

“Not again,” he groans.

“...This happens often?” Sam asks.

“If I had a nickel for every time something like this has happened,” Quackity says, wiggling his way out of the ropes tying him to the pole, “I’d have enough money to go buy myself a pair of pants.”

Sam averts his eyes to the sky, abruptly aware of exactly why Quackity would feel the need to buy a pair of pants.

“Damn it,” Quackity says. “Those were my favorite pair of assless chaps.”

“Were they now,” Sam says numbly. The sky is quite blue today, it’s rather beautiful.

Quackity huffs in aggravation, finally having freed himself from his binds. “Yeah, they just don’t make ‘em like they used to, you know?”

“Not really, no,” Sam says slowly. “I wouldn’t know much about-- assless chaps.”

The naked man shrugs. Haltingly, Sam unclasps his cape, pulling it off his shoulders and offering it to Quackity.

“Nah,” Quackity says, “I’ll just streak.”

“Please don’t,” Sam says with pain in his eyes.

[greater-than-the-sword]

Things that will make you feel new emotions

Books

The Tale of Despereaux by Kate Dicamillo. Even if you've read it before. I discover 2 new emotions every time I read this book

The King in Yellow by Robert W. Chambers. Seems like you might like it especially the non-horror stories later in the book

Piranesi, by Susanna Clarke

The Ocean at the End of the Lane if you've never read it before

The Illustrated Man, Ray Bradbury

I'd be shocked if you haven't read The Fairy Tales of Oscar Wilde before but I have to put it on such a list

Movies/TV:

The Promised Neverland (Anime but don't worry about that. Watch Season 1 only, it's a complete story and a masterpiece)

Your Name (Also anime that will destroy you)

Stardust (could be a family movie if you ignore the whole crossdressing pirate thing. One of the only movies I've ever watched that vibes like the Princess Bride)

Gravity (one of my top favorite sci-fi movies ever)

Arrival (same but more narratively complex and difficult)

Music

The Highwayman by Loreena McKennitt (Based on the poem of the same title by Alfred Noyes- I am dead set that some day I will create an animated feature for this)

Cassandra by Florence + the Machine (and a number of other Florence songs but they're so hit and miss, but this one has some of the most analyzable lyrics)

Mercy Mirror by Within Temptation. And the entire "resist" album maybe. (Their songs are usually about hmmm. anger and revenge. but they have like 1 song per album that isn't and it goes hard)

Vienna Teng

Eurydice by Sleepthief

Why do I get the feeling that you'd like my whole Dark Academia list

Video Games

Brothers (beautiful indie game that will destroy you)

Inside ("squishy" horror game. more on the side of tense and quietly psychologically disturbing rather than one of those slasher house type games but only play if you have a strong stomach)

Myst (retro game but still possible to buy!! a classic with very fun puzzles and cool worlds and great music)

Could this (recent post) be interpreted as a request for media recommendations?

Would you like it to be?

[gentlemancrow]

jonmartin, pre-romance, #15/28??

I did manage to get BOTH of these in! So we have a combo of "You called me, remember?" and "It's too early for this". Much like the others, the MINUTE I read this prompt an idea popped into my head that I just HAD to go with! This is actually based off a real life incident I had with a friend (They know who they are...) but it fit both Jmart and the prompt PERFECTLY! The names have been changed to fictional characters to protect the innocent. (Hint I was the Martin in this situation) Anyway this was super fun and cute to write and I made myself all squishy a lot. HOPE YOU ENJOY! <3

There were precious few reasons why Martin’s mobile should be ringing at exactly 5:47 am on a Tuesday, and precisely none of them were good. Still, the anxiety inducing sound alerting him to something ominously, ambiguously amiss struggled to worm its way through a rather lovely dream of his acceptance speech after being awarded poet laureate. The poem he had prepared for the occasion was marrow-deep and hauntingly beautiful, or at least he remembered it that way until suddenly he was reciting the lyrics to Abba’s ‘Waterloo’ instead and sweating profusely as the audience began to murmur in disgust amongst themselves. Waterloo was indeed blaring, but from the ringtone of his phone, not from his lips, and his stomach performed a cold somersault with the force of the wave of anxiety that had begun in his dream and crested up to lap at the base of his barely functional brain. The few synapses he needed for basic motor function and reading comprehension crackled to life as he clumsily batted the buzzing device on his nightstand into his hand and squinted blearily at the name.

It was small. That was an immediate relief. If the care home had been calling about an incident with his mother, either her health or the staff’s as a result of her, it would have been the full moniker of ‘Sunrise Acres Care Home’ ticking across the caller ID. Yet small implied a name, a person, someone he had in his phone and not just a random spam call, and anxiety spiked again as Martin scrubbed at his eyes until ‘Jon’ appeared in white hot letters on the screen. Sleep dissolved from him in an instant and he sat bolt upright in a tangle of covers as he smashed the green answer icon with his thumb and threw the receiver to his ear.

“Hullo?! Jon? R’you okay? What’s happened?” he demanded, voice still slumbery thick and groggy.

“Martin!” Jon’s silky, prim voice, thinned out to a tin can vibrato over airwaves, answered, “Good, you’re awake. I need your help. Urgently.”

Martin was already out of bed by the time ‘need’ reached his ears, yanking on the first pair of jeans he spotted in the laundry heap on the floor and hopping on his free leg to the en suite with his phone pinched between his cheek and shoulder.

“I’m on it!” he assured him despite having no clue what ‘it’ was, exactly, “I’m coming to you as soon as I can. Where are you? Are you hurt? Should I bring a first aid kit? I don’t think I have a first aid kit… should I buy a first aid kit? There’s a Boots just down the block from my flat, I could-“

“Martin, stop! What the hell are you on about?” Jon’s annoyed tone cut through his panic like a scalpel.

Martin stopped in the doorframe of the bathroom, brows knitted, jeans puddling around the one leg he’d managed to get through and left once again in naught but his boxers as he gripped his phone back into his hand.

“Huh? What are you on about? You said you needed help!” he snapped.

“I do! But not like… not like THAT. What kind of mortal peril do you imagine I would find myself in at a quarter to six in the morning?”

The initial surge of adrenaline fizzling out uselessly in his veins the more Jon talked, Martin sagged against the doorway and pinched his temples as he strained his words through a colander of civility.

“I don’t know, Jon. You called me, remember?”

“Right, right…”

A terse, lowly hissing silence of dead satellite replaced Jon’s voice, twisting Martin’s nerves as acrobatically as he twisted to avoid the point. He kicked off his jeans and stalked grouchily back to bed where he threw himself face down and unmoving.

“So, what is it then? Wi-Fi gone tits up? Forgot how long to steep Darjeeling?” he hissed into his rumpled duvet, a little nastier than he would have liked given the deadly combination of interrupted slumber and primordial biological survival instinct.

“I uh…” Jon’s voice deflated over the speaker, “I have a… problem.”

“Yes, we’ve so very, very clearly established that. What kind of a problem, exactly…?”

“A problem of an upsettingly… Arachnid nature.”

“A spider…?”

“…Yes.”

Martin propped himself up on one elbow, eyes narrowed with genuine and curious concern.

“Wait like a… like a spooky spooky spider? Or just an ordinary kind of spooky spider?” he inquired with as much levity as he could muster, given one of the likely options.

“Stop saying spooky. And the ordinary kind. I think. No, I’m sure of it. It’s merely the sitting on my kitchen wall like it owns the place and staring at me rudely with all eight eyes, judging me for skipping breakfast again, kind,” Jon answered with clinical pointedness.

“O… kay…?” Martin drawled, suppressing a giggle, “So, what’s the problem then?”

“What do I do?”

Martin opened his mouth to answer, but closed it again as he doubted that he had actually heard Jonathan Sims, the irascible, pompous, only capable of truly looking at him down his nose Head Archivist Jonathan Sims, ask him, a lowly assistant, what to do. With a spider. It would have been almost adorable, had he not scared the life out of him initially, but even that knocked it only down a single peg to helplessly charming.

“I-I mean, the normal thing one does when encountering a spider in one’s home? You kind of only have the usual two options? Er well, three, if you count just leaving it be, but I doubt you’re amenable to that one.”

“No, absolutely not, out of the question,” Jon declared swiftly.

“Didn’t think so,” Martin chuckled, rolling onto his back and sagging in relief into the mattress.

“So?” came the impatient invitation to continue.

“So what?”

“So, then what do I do?” Jon repeated brusquely.

“Well, you either kill it or let it go, of course! What else is there to do? Invite it to brunch?”

“I know that! I’m not an idiot!” Jon erupted furiously, “Good lord, Martin! Do you really think I would have called you because I didn’t know the only two options for dealing with an eight-legged criminal invading my home were kill it or let it go? Really?! Did you suppose this was the very first spider I ever encountered in my life? Is that what you thought? Or perhaps I had my own personal valet to attend to all of my insectoid tribulations, hmm? Just call the bug butler, he’ll attend to it straightaway! Do you ever stop to think before you open your mouth? Or do you customarily just air out whatever inane notions blow through your ears, no matter how puerile? Christ!”

Martin let the phone drop onto the bed beside him, away from the verbal darts hurled directly into his eardrum and taxing the output matrix of the speaker, as Jon launched into an affronted, mortified tirade, smirking and shaking his head.

“It’s too early for this…” he mused to himself ruefully, rubbing both hands over his face and eyes.

Once the phone stopped humming and glowing white hot with remote rage, Martin scooped it back up and yawned into the receiver.

“You alright there, Jon?” he asked in a gentle tone.

A ragged sigh crackled into a blip of feedback from lips too close on the other end of the phone.

“…Not really?” came Jon’s tremulous reply, “Listen, I’m sorry I went off on you. That was unfair of me. I-I just… I really… really hate spiders.”

Something squeezed in Martin’s chest, something about the confident bass flayed neatly out of Jon’s usually assertively solid mannerisms, leaving it abnormally thin and rickety. He sat up on the bed, cradling the phone much more gently to his cheek.

“Hey hey, it’s okay,” he assured him, “If anybody sympathizes about being afraid, you definitely called the right person. Need me to stay on the line with you while you whack it? A good heavy book will probably do the trick, or if you need speed and agility a rolled-up newspaper or a magazine might be better?”

“No! I wasn’t calling because I needed advice on how to murder the damn thing! I’m quite capable of doing that on my own. Frankly, I’ve taken rather a vested interest in honing my spider termination methodology over the years. I called you because… well you were going on about how you thought they were…” Jon trailed off in a series of garbled sounds of disgust, “Cute… of all things.”

Martin grinned and had to put the phone on his bare chest a moment, as if Jon might somehow perceive his giddy glee through the receiver.

“To be fair I’m a little odd that way. Most people feel much the same as you do about them,” he commented as he picked it back up.

“True, but that’s not even the whole of it!” Jon went on exasperatedly, “I also overheard you talking… must have been to Tim or Sasha but… you were explaining about how helpful they are to the ecosystem and what a vital role they play in that natural order of things, and how we always see images of them eating butterflies and beautiful things that make them look sinister, but how really they mostly control pests and the like… how you thought they got kind of a bad rap?”

“Wow I uh… I can’t believe you remembered all that,” Martin muttered, freckled cheeks dusting a light pink, “But what does that have to do with your unwanted houseguest in particular?”

“It was the last part, mainly. That’s what got me. The part about fear. That they’re afraid, too… You said there had been studies that showed a clear fear response in spiders… to us. They’re afraid of us, demonstrably more so than we are of them…”

One word of all of those slipped between Martin’s ribs and into his heart. Too. They were afraid, too. His thumb stroked and consoled the edge of his phone unconsciously as Jon blustered on, unbothered by his own unconscious admission.

“And now I can’t do it! Now I have to set this bloody spider free because you think it’s cute and want to make friends with it, and I can’t make it an innocent victim of my fear and I have no idea how!”

Martin couldn’t help but smile, imagining how Jon must be in his flat on the other end, scrunched in a corner all hunched up shoulders and furrowed brow with hackles bristling, squaring off with a creature who was possessed of no knowledge of the fear she symbolized, or the grace to understand the iconographical divorce to her salvation. Only Jon, quivering and still bed-rumpled and frazzled, could understand the magnitude of cupping that fear in the palm of his hand while reaching out to him with the other. And now Martin understood it, too.

“Hey alright, I’ve got you. Steady on Jon, we’re gonna get through this together. I’ll talk you through the steps, you just follow what I say, okay?” he instructed in his best 999 operator performance.

A beat of silence ensued, followed by a much more robust and emboldened, “Okay.”

“So, what you want to do first is get a glass.”

“A glass?”

“Yeah, like a water glass. And a stiff piece of paper or cardboard or something. If you’ve got a bit of post lying about, flyers and coupons and the like, those usually work well.”

There was a period of distant shuffling, clattering, and indecipherable muttering as Jon gathered his weapons, then sucked in an audible breath through his teeth.

“Alright I’ve got them, now what?” he asked, sounding a bit winded.

“Now you very carefully put the glass over the spider, then slide the paper under the glass so you trap it inside. Then you can take it out without touching it or worrying about it scuttling off on you and set it free wherever you think it’ll be happy!” Martin answered sweetly.

“Okay, okay. I think I can do that,” Jon chanted for steadiness, “I’m putting the phone down so I don’t louse it up, but d-don’t hang up, stay on with me, okay?”

“I’m not going anywhere, Jon. I promise. You’re okay.”

“O-Okay… Okay… Okay…!”

Martin listened as Jon’s voice grew distant, but somehow stronger, more like a war cry, with the soft pad of socked feet on tile, then a short stretch of silence, and then a chorus of oaths and yelping, rising to the crescendo of a door being messily flung open, shut, then opened and shut again. A drumbeat of returning feet rolled mutely close and melded into the scratchy rustle of the phone being picked back up.

“I’m back,” Jon announced.

“Is it done?”

“The deed is done… your little friend is enjoying some lovely pink dahlias out front as we speak.”

“I’m pleased for her! And… for you, too,” Martin said, voice melting into lilting tenderness, “I’m honestly really proud of you, I know that wasn’t easy for you.”

“I… Ah… No, it wasn’t. Thank you, Martin,” came the sheepishly measured rejoinder.

“You’re very welcome.”

Martin smiled privately to himself, and ran a loving thumb down the edge of his phone once more.

“So then may I rightly assume I have permission to come in an hour or so late today so I can go back to sleep?” he continued, already knowing the answer as he flopped back down on his pillows and rolled up into the covers.

He was relieved to hear a husky chuckle rumble through the phone.

“Yes, yes. I think you’ve more than earned it.”

“Brilliant, see you in a bit then? And for lunch?” he added hopefully.

The brief silence as Jon calculated his response hung thick and palpable in the digital airwaves.

“Lunch sounds good,” he replied at length, “See you then.”

“G-Great! Great! See you!”

Their phones clicked mutually off without the awkward jumble of sign-offs, pleasantries, and accidentally stumbling over each other’s words. Martin thought glimmeringly of the spider hunting free in plush pink petals, none the wiser, and of Jon, with new and irrefutable proof that not everything ugly or quietly cunning in the world lurked behind to cast its shadow over him. A spider could be just a spider, and Martin back asleep with both hands still clutching his phone to his chest, dreaming of singing Waterloo again, but this time to a rapt audience and thunderous applause.

[divinefireangel]

Justin H Min as your boyfriend:

Disclaimer: This is just a work of fiction. If this piece of fan fiction is offensive to any celebrity, fandom or culture please let me know so I can take it down. Also note that this is my version of a character or celeb, which will vary from person to person.

Author's note: Hi! I'm Sush. I'm new to the whole writing thing so please lmk if there are any suggestions or criticisms. I readily welcome them. Please note that this is my work and if you want to publish this on any other platform, take my permission before doing so. Taking an author's work and posting it somewhere else without any intimation is just disrespectful. That said, I hope you like my first HC! Happy reading! 🤍

Warnings: None. I tried making it fluffy but not sure. All ages and all readers (nothing specified with respect to gender, appearance, etc of reader).

Justin H Min is the literal sweetest, most sincere human being on this planet whom we deffo do not deserve

He always has your back

Support system to the ends of the earth

He just knows what to do when you are down

When you can't sleep, he will read a passage from your favorite book, cuz his voice is soothing like an Angel's

Kudos if you like books too because you both are gonna obsess over your fav authors and books and characters

Him definitely getting jealous if a fictional character that you like a little too much you know what I mean 👀

Cuddle monster™

He cannot go an hour without cuddling you, if you are in the same room

King of cheek kisses

King of forehead kisses

King of hand kisses

KING OF YOUR FUCKING HEART

When you are down he will do anything just to see you smile

Although if nothing is working, he will try and talk to you and give you reassurance that everything is going to be okay

And you believe it because it's coming from him

He seems like a guy who plans dates that are genuinly well thought

And gifts that you did not know you needed until he gave them to you

Needless to say you were shocked to get it because you fucking loved it even if you had no idea what it was lol

He wears cologne (ily if you get this hehe)

Stealing his beanies when you have to go out or when you are cold

Stealing his eyewear collection, we know it is amazing

Stealing his jackets and hoodies and his amazing patterned shirts

Him loving you in his clothes because you is baby

He's very attentive of the little things

Especially the ones you are insecure about

Tells you that he loves them, even more if you don't like them

And he really does love your little quirks

Thinks you are cute

That's it

Just cute

No other adjective to describe you

Probably not that great at cooking 😂😂

Loves your cooking even if it's kinda bad

You can't stare at him for too long

He is just that beautiful

God knows I can't

Gives the best hugs

Sways when hugging you cuz that's just uwu

Bear hugs mostly

Loves putting his face in your neck cuz 'it's warm'

Not much of a dancer but will try and slow dance with you

But you both end up stepping on each other's feet and stop because you're laughing too much

Sending memes to each other

Sending quotes and small poems or snippets that remind you of the other

Him writing small poems for you about you

You try to write them for him and he just gets teary eyed becuz he did not expect you to

He takes random pictures of you

On his phone, on his disposable camera, on his film camera, e v e r y t h i n g

Has a pic of you as his home screen

And a pic of you in his wallet

You taking pics of him when he lookis squishy

Which, not so shockingly, is always

Gets you matching clothes that you can wear at home mostly

Matching socks

Matching beanies

Matching pj's

Loves coordinating your clothes when you have to go out

Takes tons of selfies in said clothes

'Babe please, for Instagram'

Calls you so many nicknames

Babe, honey, hun, love, dove, sweets, sweetheart, bb, matey (soulmate) as a joke

A few cute names in Korean too (I don't know Korean and I do not trust google, but if you do know, tell me so I can add)

Tries teaching you small sentences in Korean

And you teach him some in your mother tongue (if you are bilingual)

Both of you feeling loved and content with each other

He doesn't get jealous at all of real people

He trusts you and would give you his heart and soul

Loves loves loves holding your hand in public

Connecting your pinkies if you are strolling

Going on museum dates a lot

Him saying cheesey things like 'You are the only art I wanna stare at' & 'Your beauty deserves a museum bigger than this'

And it's working surprisingly because you are a blushing mess

Calling him Justy

Idk why but it makes me giggle when I imagine it

Nonstop texting and daily FaceTime when he has to work or whenever you two are apart

Even if it's for a day

Nonstop texting otherwise as well

Him misplacing the simplest things and you having to find them with him

Talking at 3 am or when you can't sleep due to anxiety or insomnia

Talking about the universe

About your past life

About things you like

About your future.

He makes you tea or coffee or your beverage of choice when you are busy or sad or inconvenienced in the slightest sense

Helps you choose outfits

I mean..... He does have a great fashion sense

Making him smile by doing and saying stupid things

He is actually very wise

Gives great advice on stuff in general

Peak squishy fluffy boyfriend when he is tired

Tired Justy needs attention and kisses and snuggles because cuddles just don't work

Loves running his hands through you hair, over your shoulders and back and abdomen and arms and butt

Let's you sleep on his hand, his shoulder, his chest, his lap, all over him

Listens to you when you bitch about people you don't like

But he really doesn't because he is observing you and falling for you

Mostly gets the falling for you feeling when you aren't actually doing adorable things intentionally

He doesn't even breathe in another person's direction because the only person he needs is you

Just you

Just you and him

In your own sweet small bubble

Living in the world with each other

Because at the end of the day

All you need is each other.

Gifs/any media belong to the owners who made them.

[ofmermaidstories]

I really like your blog because you have this really life loving vibe, the type of people that see all the beauty in the world and stuff, so I wanted to ask you for some advice, if that's ok. By nature I'm also like that, kinda mushy, very heartfelt, but a lot of mistreatment from people in my life made me also very cynical, judgy and distrusting. How do you manage to keep this wonderous mentality about life?

In the afternoon, I like to stretch out on my bed, amid my pillows and my blankets, and soak in the late light and the autumn chill. I follow a grocer on instagram in a city three hours away from me because they post pictures of the produce they sell: pumpkins cut in half, jewel-bright tomatoes held in someone’s hands, sourdough loaves made by a neighbour. On the weekends they offer bouquets of flowers, supplied to them by a woman who bills herself as “a weekend florist and full-time mother” — this weekend it’s red berries and sunflowers, bundled up like babies being brought home from the hospital.

On Sunday it’ll be Mother’s Day: I’ll be spending the day deep cleaning the house and ignoring instagram and facebook (mostly bc they’re boring tho, let’s be real).

I live a two-hour car drive from anyone I remotely socialise with who isn’t the cashier at the supermarket I go to. Sometimes, I get so mad that I have to force myself to mentally and physically shut down, like, complete black-screen mode, sit there and stare at the wall — it’s a self-defence tactic to spare whoever I’m getting angry at, and to spare myself: unfortunately, I’ve developed a bit of a talent for being able to say the right thing in which to hurt someone with. Unleashing it comes at a high price, and I like the people in my life, so I would literally rather bite through my own tongue then let any of that vitriol fly when I’m angry and not thinking straight.

The rubbish trucks come for the bins every Tuesday. On Monday evening, around 9pm, I’ll wheel mine out to the road. There’s no streetlights out here, and I live in a rural area — so on dark nights when we’ve lost the moon, you can look up and see the Milkyway, like you’re standing underneath a river of stars.

I buy myself flowers; the women at the florist in town treat me like I’m their most favourite person in the world (and I eat that shit up). Afterwards I’ll be carrying whatever weeds I’ve bought with me, through the supermarket or whatever, and someone will always comment on them. I’ve lost one of the pearl earrings that belonged to my Grandmother’s set, a woman long gone, now; I’ve also misplaced my favourite hairclip, pale blue with a shinning shell clasp, that I got from a seller that shut down during the mess of last year.

Last weekend, I visited the cemetery; I sat with who I was visiting and watched an old man half a lawn away from me sit in a folded chair and read a book, play a little radio. A couple, visiting one of the plots behind us, carefully took the decorations on it - frogs, lots and lots of frogs - and brushed them off, wiped them down. Reglued a few and then set them all back into place, proudly.

There’s a young boy, interred next to my person, who I never met in life; he was fifteen years old and it’s been five years, now, and his site is littered with rubgy scarves and laminated letters from his friends, photos of them together, photos of them separately, growing up without him. Empty bottles of beer, badly written poems about meeting again. I say hello to him as I peel mandarins as a offering for the possums that forage around the cemetery at night, and occasionally I brush the leaves off his footy scarves and when I go to leave I say goodbye to him, too. After my last visit, I went to the busiest shopping centre in the city and ate braised beef noodle soup, from a place where they make the noodles in front of you, pulling them and stretching them easily. I messaged a friend with updates about my meal, laughing as she kept me company even from thousands of miles away, and then just as I finished, some friends who live in the city asked if I wanted to have some cake with them — from their favourite cafe. They’d given me a key to their home, earlier, so I could come and go as I pleased. The key meant a lot to me, though they’ll never know it; it meant a lot because it felt like a physical manifestation of trust, of them saying that yes, they did want me in their lives, no matter how limited or what kind of time left we had together.

People are multifaceted; like gemstones. We can be mean and delightful and trusting and hurt. I lean into the soft, squishy parts of myself with abandon — a lot of the time it works out. I tell people I love them. I let them say they love me. A couple of times, people have left my life because they didn’t have the space in theirs for me anymore — it was hurtful and ugly each time. Humans can come together so easily, sometimes, that the joy and brightness of it can make you forget how ugly and hard it is when we leave each other in the wrong way. People and things will hurt you. That’s just a fact. Some days you’re not going to have the energy for anything but the self-preservation of being distrustful, or cynical, judgemental, and that’s okay — I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, sometimes we have to be selfish to protect what’s left of our hearts.

I keep a list of things that make me smile. I also keep a list of things that fucking shit me right off. The list of things that shit me is longer than the list of things that make me smile, but it’s because when I see something good — a bright red letterbox, a little kid that’s waving to everyone, a pleasing colour of the sky — I don’t think to write it down, because it’s generally so fleeting and so cheery. It does its job. Find the small things in your day to day that you like to linger over, that make you happy; the bad stuff still happens, and you’ll still have waves where it doesn’t seem worth the effort, but the small bright things fill the moments and remind you that it’s all part and parcel of this universal existence.

Here’s to a gentle weekend ahead, Anon. ✨🌻🍊🌿

[gay-otlc]

Hello! I have many nice things to say today, (Long ask coming up, I’m so sorry if you‘re annoyed by it. I just want to give as much happiness as I can, if that’s alright. But if long asks stress you out, feel free to just skip it. Nothing I say here is urgent or anything like that.) but I apologize if they sound weird at all. I’ve been told that when I say nice things sometimes it comes off as creepy so if any part of this sounds creepy I am so sorry and I promise it’s not intentional. I just have a lot of thoughts in my head. Moving on, Saturn is such a beautiful name. (Granted, all your names are quite beautiful.)It’s actually a name I’ve considered myself, it’s just so joy-inducing. When I hear “Saturn” used as a name, I just want to jump up and down and wave my hands and smile, that sounds extremely weird but I don’t know a better way to describe the feeling. I wonder if you feel this way too when people call you Saturn? Or maybe something different? I‘d be happy to hear what led to you choosing that name, if you’d be willing to share. If not, that‘s okay too.

Have you ever looked at pictures of hedgehogs before? Or just looked at them in real life? I think they’re a “love it or hate it” animal, but I think they’re absolutely adorable. They’re just so small and squishy-looking, like they‘re little rubber balls or something. The excessive amount of quills they have only adds to their cuteness, in my opinion. As if they’re little balls of death. Destroyers of the universe.

Am I making this about me? I hope it doesn’t come off like that, I’d just like to try to relate with you about something. But just in case, let’s talk about you more! You have such a nice blog! So much attention to detail to the book series that brought us all here, along with some lovely and creative ideas/headcanons for it too! Also, you’re username- it’s so clever, I have no clue how you came up with it. Also also, you’re a writer! I have endless respect and awe for writers- writing can be so much more difficult than it seems. What do you enjoy most about writing? You’re definitely a household name within this fandom, I think I found your posts within the first few minutes of joining the fandom.

Who are your top five Kotlc characters? They don’t have to be main characters, they can even be characters who are only mentioned in passing if that’s who you choose. I’ll go first- (In order from favorite to fifth favorite) Tiergan, Tam, Elwin, Wylie, and Linh. Oh! How many books were there when you first started reading the series? I’m not asking this gatekeep-y, in case you’re worried about that. A fan’s a fan!

I’m going to stop here because this is almost an essay-length ask already. If you want me to continue talking, I can (I have too many thoughts and my brain is much too excited right now, like I said earlier.) but if you don’t want me to, that’s alright as well. Either way, I hope you have a great day/night.

Hi! This has been sitting in my askbox for over a week, lol, I was saving it for when I needed it and you know what? Now I need it. Thank you for your service.

Saturn IS a beautiful name, thank you! I chose the name back in May, I think? I'd recently written a poem about gender and Saturn/ring metaphors, and then a mutual of mine started going by Venus, and I went "space name? space name!" and added it. And yeah, I get kind of a dopey smile on my face when people call me Saturn :)

I haven't, but at your suggestion... HOLY SHIT LOOK AT HIM

Nah, you're good! The username... I was making puns about how everyone in KOTLC was queer, this was one of the puns, and I thought it would make a fantastic username. I was right. What's my favorite part of writing? That's tough. I would have to say the best feeling is when you hit a wall in your writing, but then the moment you break through it feels so good. It's also really good to hear that I qualify as a household name in the fandom, cause when I got started it felt like everyone was super close knit and I wouldn't really fit in.

Top five? Fuck, I'm genderfluid and in capable of making decisions /j. Marella and Biana are my top two, Della is absolutely wonderful, I agree with you that Tiergan is fantastic, and... yeah, Elwin too. I will declare those my top five before I can overthink that. I started reading the series when... Nightfall was out? But Flashback came out before I'd finished the first six.

You seem really nice and you made me pretty happy, so if you want to come back, that would be cool!

[tweltchy]

Okay, okay. I gotta write this weird dream down before I forget because holy crap.

So, there was this 2D animated film that came out that was based off a series of like, beloved French children's picture books from the 50s or something. Of course, these children's books don't actually exist, but I'll try and summarize the general gist of them as best as I can.

So, the children's books themselves were condensed and loosely adapted versions of very old French plays, poems, and fairy tales. However, they all centered around the same set of memorable characters, which were little anthropomorphic critters like moles, rabbits, well-dressed bugs, and mice. There was ONE character who’s name I vividly remember, and it was a little female rabbit named Gateaux. She was a white rabbit with brown spots and always wore a dress and a pink bow on her head. These characters got into all sorts of trouble in their little underground world and would eventually retell stories in their own, weird way? I’ll get into that later...

Anyway, the film was a gigantic hit in the country and released overseas, right? I live in the US and went to go see the film with a couple of friends, one of which was an absolute fantastic over this series? They could tell you all the references to the plays the books were based on, the meaning and morals behind each book, how much children in France loved them, and so on and so forth. We got seated in the theater, and the film started with a bunch of critters at a massive underground party. The film did look really pretty with the style of a watercolor painting with lots of browns and tans, but still burst with color from decorations, lights that hung about the underground, and the outfits of the characters. Uhhh, you know Luc Besson’s Arthur series of books and the world they live in?

Yeah, well, this is the closest picture I could find that resembled the underground world of the critters. Except it was like...bigger. Anyways. The film was kept in it’s original language and had English subtitles, and the critters were all repeatedly shouting out the name of the female rabbit enthusiastically.

“Gateaux! Gateaux! Gateaux! Gateaux!”

That’s...probably why I remember her name... ANYWAY.

They all sat at a large table and gave a toast to Gateaux for...something?? They all down their drinks at once. Just as an aside, it was alcohol. Straight up alcohol. And the vast majority of these critters were child age. Gateaux blacks out some time later and wakes up in a submarine that’s already submerged. Two of her friends are there with her, a mole and a mouse. They’re panicked and keep telling her about “them” and how “they” were coming to eat them all. Gateaux looks out a window of the sub and sees multiple critters trying to chase it, but they ultimately failed and drowned with the bubbles coming out of them having a faint red color.

The three in the submarine get to the surface which was the base of a dead tree by a small lake in a wooded area. The sub sunk into the water and the mouse, the mole, and Gateaux went on their way and followed a trail toward a human city. Gateaux had magic or something and could like...use this green brooch she had to do all kinds of things. She could fly, shrink or grow, and move things with her mind?? One other scene I remember was one of “them” found the three and began to chase them on the trail. “They” were a large shadowy figure with big sharp green teeth and glowing purple eyes. It was also scarily fast. Gateaux used her magic to cause a whole-ass landslide on a hill and shoved the shadowy figure down a fucking gorge, where it landed with a big squishy slap. The nearby birds of the area came down and cheered the three on for getting rid of it? I don’t remember the rest except for a scene where a wizard owl raised up in the air to use pure light to obliterate the shadows.

After the movie was over, the obsessed friend pulled us aside with a stack of books from the library to explain everything and the meaning of the books and film in vast detail. And that’s all I remember.

tl;dr Even in my dreams, the French intimidate me.