#and appreciate it every other time you talk to me !!! :)

[mayakern]

I honestly don’t know how to write this; I have spent all week attempting to figure out what to say.

Last Monday I was informed by our factory that our merchandiser and direct point of contact with the factory passed away unexpectedly two weeks ago. She was someone who I have spent a great deal of time speaking to ever since we switched factories two years ago. She helped us realize designs for new products, sent us samples of garments extremely quickly and kept track of all our orders. She went to bat for us if something went wrong with our print shop or if I was unhappy with how a garment pattern was interpreted by their team. As their first American client and a brand that focuses on size inclusion, something that is not typical of their other clients, she handled a lot of crazy requests from us without blinking and she was dedicated to ensuring that both us and our customers were happy. We talked nearly every day, and though it was work related she was one of the kindest people I have had the pleasure interacting with daily.

She was beyond dedicated to her work and to working with us. Turkey has an 11-hour time difference from me in California, which means when she was emailing me at 2pm in the afternoon it was 1am there. You can sure bet that I extended her the same courtesy and tried my best to answer her emails at night too, even when I would rather just be sleeping.

It was also clear just how much she loved her job, and now much she loved you guys. She had been silently watching our social media since we first started working with them. She got just as excited as we did on launch days and would often email me unprompted about how she was glad people were leaving such positive comments and reviews. She read your feedback when no one ever asked her to do that or even expected it of her. She did it because she really, really cared.

Even though she was miles away and we never met in person, she was like a coworker to me and the loss of her is like losing someone on our team.

The Maya Kern team, as a whole, has been dealing with a lot lately. I personally just moved (which took far longer than we expected) and Maya and Devin are gearing up to move back to Minneapolis pretty soon. With the loss of our merchandizer, it has taken the wind out of my sails a little bit. I was trying to push through, even though I am exhausted, and carry out the photo shoot for our new products this weekend, but it has become clear that my body just can’t handle it. My arthritis has finally told me to stop moving, so unfortunately, we are going to have to reschedule the shoot for later on.

We are doing everything we can to make sure our next product drop on the 21st still happens. But as of right now, due to this sudden loss, the garments haven’t even shipped from the factory yet and I am not optimistic that they will clear customs and get checked into the fulfillment center in time for the launch. This means the drop is likely going to be pushed back to December 5th and instead of a full photo shoot, we will probably have to settle for taking quick photos of everyone at home, and likely with our phones. 

We work really hard to deliver not just garments we believe in, but also pictures of said garments on bodies that our customers can relate to, and unfortunately I just do not think that is possible this time. As always, we really appreciate your patience and understanding during what has been a very difficult time for us.

Ash

Chief Operations Officer

[le-panda-chocovore]

I still refuse to accept that this exist. I've been around for years now and I do send fic links to my friends but we don't have discords servers specifically to talk about them ??? I leave comments and sometimes go on the author's tumblr to send them an ask about how much i love their works. A few times I got the author's discord by doing that and we started chatting on the app. Sometimes the author sees me comment-spamming their fics, so they go on my account and starts reading my fics and leaves adorable comments too. And it makes me cry cause what do you mean you love my work ?? I'm just an annoying rambler who also happens to be a fan of your work, I don't write as well as you, but you still enjoy reading my shit ? This makes me so fucking happy.

And you guys are telling me that some people... Don't... Share their appreciation with the author ?? Some people are missing this kind of wholesome connection???? People create discord server to talk about the fics they like and never fucking tell the author about that ? The author who reads and answers to every single comment because it makes them happy to know that other people like their work ?? The author who rambles about their fics idea on tumblr because they have so many in mind and just want to share them ??

I legit don't understand how you can read a fic and chose to text your friend instead of leaving a fucking comment under it. I refuse to believe that there's discords servers out there with channels like "STSG hurt/comfort fics" where people write poems dedicated to their love for fanfic authors. And the authors have no idea of this and give up on writing because they feel like no one is reading them.

I have a discord group with two women, we were all writing erasermic fics on the french side of wattpad, we were all reading and commenting each other's fics, correcting spelling mistakes in the comments. It became an habit to the point where they started tagging me every time they posted a new chapter so I could correct them, and I did the same with my fanfics. It was 5 years ago and today one of them is going to publish her first original novel and she asked us to be her beta-readers. None of us write erasermic fics anymore.

It's great that you love a fanfic so much that you ramble about it on discord with your friends, but what the point of a fandom if we don't try to reach each other ?

"should we tell authors on ao3 when we have discord conversations about their fics" i don't speak for everyone here but if y'all ever find a group chat discussing my fics you can should must and WILL send me screenshots of the whole damn thing. inflate my ego. gimme

[capuccinodoll]

Honey love, dark eyes

Summary: Halloween night arrives at the Hoffman barbecue, and you find yourself masking feelings again. Word count: 8.5k A/N: Oh, i'm not over... - thank you for your comments, they're so fun lol you all make me laugh !! <3 Hope you enjoy this part.

October 31st. You let your feet drag across the cool bathroom tile, feeling every step. There was something comforting in that small heaviness, your body still lulled by the weight of lunch, and your mind restless, carrying the remnants of memories you'd been revisiting all afternoon. You turned on the shower, waiting a moment before stepping in, the heat closing around you like a second skin. As your fingers combed through your hair, scrubbing it softly, your thoughts slipped forward, out of your control, toward the evening ahead, as inevitable as the pull of gravity.

Last year felt impossibly far away. Sarah had wanted to be a vampire. You’d found her a set of plastic fangs, which she wore with a grin that pushed her cheeks high up on her face. Her cape was metallic, shiny as foil, falling past her shoulders, and she looked so delighted, bouncing on her feet in front of the mirror. You'd managed to take more photos than you ever needed, laughing at her exaggerated grimaces and capturing her tiny poses. Joel had been there, too, playing along, wide-eyed with pretend fear, leaning away from her “fangs” in a way that made her giggle. Every single picture was still on your hard drive—photos from a time you could hardly believe was only a year ago.

This Halloween was different. Sarah had decided on her costume weeks back—an astronaut. You’d spent the better part of September helping her piece it together, and she was beyond excited. She’d be with her friends tonight at a “scary” sleepover, which she’d told you about, bright-eyed and practically bouncing with anticipation. It was strange that she wasn’t here. It felt like there was a piece of Halloween missing, but she hadn’t felt it that way at all. To her, this was the most exciting plan in the world. You’d felt it too, in her voice, like a little pinch in your chest.

This would be the first Halloween in years you’d spend without her, alone at the Hoffmans' barbecue. And without Sarah, Joel wouldn't come either. His attendance at these neighborhood gatherings had always been more about you than the event itself, which you’d always appreciated without needing to say it out loud. You could picture him, standing with a beer, blending into the background, jokingly complaining about the crowds. He’d said he didn’t care for the noise, the small talk, and the endless kids weaving through adults like they were on a secret mission. But you’d noticed the way he’d watch Sarah, his face softened as he looked on, his attention lingering in that way that showed he didn’t mind being here, really, because it was with you and her. And the two of you—Joel and you—could talk about anything. He made everything feel like a continuation of one long conversation, like you’d just pick up right where you’d left off, glancing at each other and knowing what the other meant without even saying it.

You could also picture Clara, who’d come over to him every year, her voice lilting as she placed her hand lightly on his arm, her laugh soft and maybe a bit forced. She had that amused smile, that slight lean toward him whenever she spoke, and you couldn’t resist teasing him about it later. He’d always looked so puzzled whenever you brought it up, though you were sure he knew exactly what you were hinting at. She’d been living in the neighborhood for years, a few houses down, in that bright yellow house, and you knew she’d nursed a quiet crush on him for a while. And Joel, for his part, never seemed to notice.

The thought made you smile, picturing him in that moment, eyes narrowed, brows creased, looking at you as if to say, “Why would she be interested?” But as soon as you felt the smile, the weight of reality caught up. Joel was no longer in your life in the same way. He wasn’t “your” Joel anymore, the friend you’d poke fun at and swap knowing glances with. He wouldn’t be coming to the barbecue this year. With Sarah gone and things fractured between the two of you, he’d have no reason to come. 

Maybe this would be the year he’d finally spend Halloween as he’d always said he wanted to—in the quiet of his house, watching a horror movie, the occasional interruption of trick-or-treaters breaking the silence as he handed out candy. The picture of him there, his small, self-contained world entirely separate from you, felt like an ache that had been growing for a long time, quiet and steady.

You missed him. And it made you furious to feel it, like he had somehow taken something from you by hurting you, even though you knew, rationally, that wasn’t true. Still, the feeling stuck, simmering somewhere in the background. You hated that you missed him at all.

*

Your steps matched Travis’s as you left the house, his voice filling the space around you, his hands carving shapes in the air with his animated gestures. The crisp October air wrapped around you, a lingering autumn sun casting a warm, golden wash over everything—the leaves curling on the trees, the lawn stretching out beside you. You hugged your flannel a little closer, fingers brushing over the thick fabric. It was just the right layer—a deep green fleece, oversized, over a worn black T-shirt. You were warm, content, happy even, if only you could hold on to that feeling.

Beside you, Travis was recounting a work spat, his colleague’s tone and insults reimagined in Travis’s flurry of hands. You caught the edges of his words, murmuring a few responses that seemed to satisfy him. By the time you reached the Hoffmans’ house, you were both following the gentle glow of orange lights strung across the yard, stepping into a scene that felt dreamlike, suspended in that late afternoon haze. There was a large oak tree strung with little yellow lights, glowing faintly in the dying sunlight, the whole place set up in the same meticulous, festive way the Hoffmans always did. 

Every corner had been turned into Halloween, with cobwebs woven over bushes and pumpkins large and small lining tables, some carved and flickering with candles, others untouched, casting shadows across the tablecloths. Guests mingled at scattered tables, warm drinks in hand, their voices and laughter filling the air with a kind of warmth you hadn’t known you’d needed. The grill added a woodsy scent, smoky and rich, mixed with spices that made your stomach hum with anticipation. A few feet away, kids dressed as witches and monsters zoomed around, their laughter spilling into the light breeze, punctuating the chatter of the adults.

It was the kind of evening that felt ripe for sinking into, letting go of all the worries that had weighed on you lately. You wanted to let yourself simply be here.

Travis glanced at you then, his gaze softening in that way he had, his question as warm as his smile. “I’m heading for food—want anything?” he asked, eyes moving from you to the spread at the far end of the yard.

You pushed yourself up from the table, your hands planted firmly as if grounding yourself.

“I’ll come with you—this is the best part, right?”

The food was better than ever. Tender, perfectly cooked meat, salads piled high, and a sense of community humming through every bite. You found your spot at the table again, balancing your glass of beer on the edge, the faint strains of music drifting from the outdoor speakers blending into the buzz of voices around you. And then, like some personal invitation to memory, you heard the familiar intro; Eyes Without a Face, by Billy Idol, that unmistakable beat curling around you.

Your shoulders started to sway, almost without permission, and then there he was again—Joel. Just like that, back in your mind, as clear as if he were standing beside you. You could picture it—two years ago, slightly tipsy, singing that song in his living room, his hand on your waist, both of you spinning each other slowly to the rhythm, his head tilted back in a deep laugh, voice just slightly off-beat, and you trying and failing to contain your own laughter.

“You okay?” Travis’s voice pulled you back, concern lacing his tone as he looked at you. Your gaze had been locked on some invisible point on the table, your head leaning slightly, reliving a memory that suddenly felt all too close.

“Oh—yeah. It’s nothing. I just love this song.”

He smiled, nodding knowingly. “It’s a classic,” he said, his fingers tapping along with the beat.

You looked up and there, just beyond Travis, the Hoffmans’ glass door slid open. You stopped breathing for a second. Joel stepped out, looking like he’d walked out of some old photograph, hair a bit damp, dark jeans and a gray and black flannel layered over a plain white T-shirt, a pair of black converse grounding him to this moment. He moved toward one of the tables, brushing his chin absentmindedly, his lips moving in time with the music, glancing around as if he were taking it all in for the first time.

And then his gaze found yours.

You held your breath, as if that could somehow make you invisible, as if that would erase this moment. But his eyes stayed on you, unreadable, a half smile on his face or maybe just a neutral expression—some mix of familiar and distant, like he was watching you from a place you could never fully reach. You swallowed, shifting your focus back to Travis, who had his eyes on his phone now, idly typing something while he continued to eat.

“I should’ve dressed up tonight,” you said, your voice intentionally light, trying to shake the weight that had fallen over you. “I don’t know what I’d be, but still. It would be fun to pretend for a night.”

Travis chuckled, leaning in closer, but you could still see Joel over his shoulder, that steady gaze, watching from his own table.

“I know a party tomorrow night—my friend’s hosting, if you want to go with me. We can pick out costumes tomorrow morning, make a day of it.”

You smiled, surprised at how genuinely it formed, pushing your hands together in excitement.

“Really? I’d love that! I haven’t dressed up in years.”

Travis’s face lit up. “Then it’s a date. We’ll figure out the costumes in the morning. Anything you want.”

For a moment, you let yourself lean into that feeling, that lightness in his offer, something to look forward to. Your gaze wandered to Helena and her little daughter by the pool, her laughter carried to you on the breeze, her face illuminated in the soft glow of fairy lights. You patted Travis’s hand and stood up, gesturing for him to follow. He caught on, falling into step behind you as you made your way to greet them. 

But as you moved, you couldn’t shake the feeling of Joel’s eyes on you, lingering there in the space between.

It had been more than a month since you'd last seen Helena. She had traveled back to her home country after her father’s death, sorting through family matters, settling things that couldn’t be left undone. Now, with her daughter Iris perched on her lap, she looked better, lighter even. There was a calmness in her eyes that hadn’t been there before, her fingers tracing gentle circles over Iris’s shoulder as the little girl, dressed as a bumblebee, poked unenthusiastically at a slice of pumpkin bread. You sat next to her.

“Hey,” Helena said, catching sight of you with a warm smile that seemed to melt away everything around you—even the awareness of Joel, somewhere behind you, his gaze like a whisper you couldn’t quite shake. “It’s so good to see you. How are you?”

“I’m… fine,” you answered, hesitating as your eyes drifted to Iris, who looked up at you with a shy, dimpled smile. “When did you get back?”

“A few days ago. I was actually planning to stop by tomorrow,” Helena replied, brightening as she added, “I thought we could have dinner, get the girls together, and our guys.” She gave a little chuckle, nudging Iris lightly. “Paul would probably love having Joel around too. The poor guy spent the entire trip surrounded by women—my sisters are wonderful, but you know how it is. It was just him and my dad with all of us, and now…”

Helena had three sisters, each one of them stunning, with the same striking green eyes and dark hair that she had. When you’d met them last Christmas, it was as though you’d stepped into some enchanted fairytale—they moved with an effortless grace, magnetic and ethereal.

Helena’s eyes twinkled as she turned toward Travis. “You should come too, Travis,” she said, a mischievous glint in her expression. She shot you a knowing wink, which Travis, ever polite, caught with a smile.

“Sounds great,” he replied with an easy grin, though you felt a twinge of discomfort at the mention of “our guys,” the thought of Joel slipping into your mind unbidden. Trying to brush it aside, you nodded and shifted the conversation.

“Is Paul not coming tonight?” you asked, hoping to keep things light.

“No,” she sighed. “He’s been swamped at work, trying to catch up after our trip. But I really can’t complain. He was so great, staying home with me all this time, so I told him tonight he should just take his time.” 

Suddenly, you heard a familiar voice.

“Helena, it’s so good to see you!” Brenda, always the life of these gatherings, came over with her usual warmth, her gaze lighting up as she reached out for Iris. 

Brenda’s costume was a striking homage—her spiky orange hair and dark lipstick made her look both bold and playful. She wore a white shirt stamped with slogans in block print, a chunky pearl necklace framing her smile. As she was sitting in front of Helena, she caught your eye and grinned.

“I'm Vivienne Westwood!” she announced proudly, preening a little under your gaze.

“You look amazing,” you said, meaning it. “And the food is, as always, incredible. You outdo yourself every year.”

Brenda gave your hand a squeeze in response, her gaze softening, but just as she was about to respond, her attention shifted beyond you, a pleased expression lighting up her face. “Oh! Joel, come over here!”

Your body tensed at the sound of his name, feeling as though the space behind you had just closed in. He was there, his footsteps echoing toward you until he was nearly at your back. You wanted to stand up, to avoid the moment entirely, but it would have only made things worse—too obvious, too awkward. Brenda couldn’t have known. Joel had always been a fixture in your life; it wasn’t strange to see him here, even if, for some reason, it felt like he was moving in a world that was no longer entirely yours.

You glanced up, catching sight of Joel as he leaned down to kiss Brenda’s cheek while she patted the seat next to her. His smile was casual, easy, as he greeted the others with a nod, his eyes lingering just a second longer on you and Travis than felt necessary. He looked completely at ease, unbothered by the tension knotting up inside you, sitting comfortably in front of you.

Brenda’s hand rested on his arm as she looked up at him with a fond smile. “Where’s your Sarah? I haven’t seen her all night.”

“She’s at a friend’s sleepover,” Joel replied, a hint of concern threading through his words, though he tried to disguise it with a smile. “So I’m here on her behalf, I suppose.”

“She’s growing up so fast,” Brenda said, her tone nostalgic as she gave him a soft smack on the arm.

Joel shook his head slowly, a bittersweet smile flitting across his face before his gaze moved to Iris. “Tell me about it. I remember when she was this little…”

Helena’s hand drifted over her daughter’s hair as she smiled back at him.

“It all flies by, doesn’t it?” she said, her voice soft. “We really have to hold on to these moments.” She turned toward Travis, and he nodded, a gentle look in his eyes as he watched Iris. 

“How old is Sarah now, Joel?” Travis asked, and you noticed a subtle shift in Joel’s expression, a kind of hesitance before he replied.

“Twelve,” he said, his voice quieter, his gaze falling briefly before meeting Travis’s, smile dissapearing.

“Twelve?” Brenda’s tone was incredulous. “I still remember the day you moved in, Joel! She was so little then, a perfect little angel! And you—how old were you then?”

“Twenty-seven,” Joel answered with a wry smile, a hint of nostalgia in his tone.

“You were just a kid yourself,” Brenda replied, shaking her head. “Always working, always rushing somewhere. And always putting your baby first.”

Joel’s smile softened, his eyes meeting Brenda’s with a warm gratitude.

“I couldn’t have managed without you,” he said simply, as though she understood all the years of support and help she had given him.

Helena glanced over with a thoughtful look. “Didn’t you just have a birthday, Joel?” she asked, her voice casual, but the question landing with a weight that made your heart leap. 

“That's right,” he murmured, looking down at his hands as he fiddled with his fingers against the edge of the table. “September twenty-sixth.”

“Hey, happy belated birthday then,” Helena said brightly, her smile lighting up the words. “Did you have a nice time?”

Joel looked at you briefly, and something flickered there, like he was turning over a memory he hadn’t expected to find. He shifted his gaze back to his hands. “It was good. Full of… surprises, I guess. Pretty sure Sarah told you all about it, huh?” He shot a glance at Brenda, as if grateful for a way out of the conversation.

“Oh, I heard all about it from Sarah,” Brenda said, grinning, her gaze settling on you with a warmth that made you blush. “You’re a lucky guy, Joel, to have two sweet girls looking out for you like that.” She patted his arm. “I’ll make up a little bag of candy to take home to her, all right? I know she loves the caramel ones.”

You smiled, trying to ignore the prickle of Joel’s gaze on you. And then a feeling dragged you back to years before, to when his Sarah was just three. You could pictured her as a toddler with wide eyes and a toothy, mischievous grin. Joel had shown you those old photos once, and you remembered how adorable she looked, her tiny hand clutching a toy tightly. Sarah had his smile—that same easy warmth, with eyes that crinkled and all but disappeared whenever she laughed. That gesture was even present in Tommy, now that you thought about it. Maybe it was purely a Millers thing, but it—

You realized Brenda was talking to you and straightened up, feeling your cheeks warm.

“Sorry, what?”, you asked.

Brenda chuckled, looking at you with a soft smile. “I was just asking, how old was Sarah when you first met her?”

“She was eight,” Joel answered before you could, glancing at you with a faint smirk.

"Yeah, eight," you echoed the number, ignoring the way his gaze moved over you, lingering with a warmth that felt almost invasive.

At that moment, Helena called Brenda’s attention back to a conversation about Christmas and Iris’s upcoming birthday, but Joel’s eyes stayed on you, searching your face like he was looking for something only you might understand. You tried to keep your own expression neutral, feeling Travis’s hand come to rest on your knee under the table, giving it a gentle squeeze. The warmth of his touch helped you to breathe a little easier, though Joel didn’t miss the gesture. His gaze hardened as he glanced down, the line of his jaw tightening slightly.

Clearing his throat, he leaned forward, finally addressing Travis. “So, how’s business going, Travis? I heard something about real estate taking a hit. Times are rough, aren’t they?”

Travis, completely unfazed, nodded, his hand still on your knee. “It is. At least for now things are still good, but of course, I can speak for myself.”

Joel gave a slow, mocking nod, feigning an interest he didn’t feel. “Well, you seem quite competent. I have no doubt you sure are handy with business. Is your dad still running the company?”

Travis smiled, oblivious to the subtext that hung in Joel’s question. “Yep, still going strong, but I think he’s planning to retire soon. My old man is tired, I think.”

Joel raised his eyebrows in a mock gesture of understanding. “Makes sense. I’m sure you’ll do fine. You seem like the kind who’s got a knack for that… you know, the charm. Every successful businessman needs a little bamboozling spark, don’t they? And I... I think you fit the role.” 

“Joel,” you warned quietly, hoping to temper the tension you could feel growing at the table. But Joel merely looked back at you with a faint, defiant smile, ignoring the caution in your eyes.

Travis, patient as ever, simply shrugged. “I appreciate your good faith, Joel. It means a lot coming from you, I know what a hard worker you are.”

The kindness in his tone, the sincerity in his eyes—it made your heart soften. You turned to look at him with a warm smile on your face, how was he immune to the sharp words of the man in front of him? And Joel had a special talent for formulating painful and provocative sentences, but apparently Travis was not the easy guy to gnaw on. And you were grateful for that. 

He turned to you, his eyes warm as he pressed a quick kiss to your cheek. “I’m going to get us some drinks. Need anything, beautiful?”

You shook your head, managing a small smile. “I’m good, thanks.”

As he rose and walked away, he gave your shoulder one last affectionate squeeze. You noticed Joel watching Travis’s every move, his expression darkening, and once Travis was out of earshot, Joel’s gaze returned to you. He didn’t bother to hide his irritation, his eyes narrowing in an almost accusatory way as they moved over your face, searching.

“Joel, really,” you whispered, leaning in so only he could hear. “You don’t have to treat him like that. He’s never done a thing to you.”

A smirk flickered across his lips, and he leaned closer, eyes dancing with a kind of challenge. “Treat him like what?”

You shook your head, pulling back to put some distance between you, but Joel’s gaze followed, steady, like he was waiting for you to react, hoping for it even.

Murmuring an apology to Brenda and Helena, you stood, slipping away to the table by the big oak tree where your empty plate and half-full glass still sat. You picked it up, taking a long drink, grateful for the quiet moment, even as you felt his eyes on you from across the garden.

Travis appeared in front of you, a warm smile on his face as he handed over a small plate with a chocolate cupcake, topped with a dollop of cream shaped into a ghost and dusted with coconut. The sweet smell hit you right away, and you leaned in, inhaling the scent, your mouth already watering. You took a bite, savoring the rich chocolate—it tasted like all of Brenda Hoffman’s best baking, delicious and indulgent.

“Maybe after the barbecue, we could head back to my place for a while,” Travis said, his expression slightly tentative, as if he wasn’t entirely sure of your response.

“That sounds perfect,” you replied with a small smile, trying not to feel self-conscious. As you savored another bite, you glanced toward the pool where Joel was still deep in conversation with Brenda, Helena, and Iris. A moment later, you noticed Clara, all golden hair and easy confidence, sliding into the seat you’d left vacant. She placed two plates on the table, one for herself and one for Joel, who glanced up as she settled in, looking pleased.

Travis followed your gaze, then turned back to you with a knowing look.

“He hates me, doesn’t he?” he said, sounding almost amused, though his eyes held a faint hint of confusion. “I think I might understand why, i mean, i think i know why but…”

You blinked, feeling that all-too-familiar twinge of guilt.

“No, he doesn’t hate you,” you said, brushing off the thought. “He’s just acting… well, like a jerk.”

Travis nodded slowly, digesting your words, but then his eyes softened with curiosity.

“You don’t have to answer this if you don’t want to, but… what happened with you two? Weren’t you best friends? I remember you two were always together, but lately…”

You sighed, feeling the tension build as you searched for a way to answer. Travis didn’t need the full story, not yet.

“Like I just told you, he's acting like a jerk,” you said, and it didn't take long to sense that Travis wasn't satisfied with your answer.“Honestly, we just… had an argument a few weeks ago,” you said, carefully choosing each word. “It’s been weird between us since then, I guess.”

Travis seemed to sense that you didn’t want to go deeper, and thankfully he let the topic slide, moving the conversation in a new direction as he began to tell you about the last book he’d read.

“I just finished The Red and the Black, actually,” he said, his gaze turning thoughtful as he picked up his fork, poking at his plate absently. “I didn’t like Madame de Rênal. I thought her choices were a bit… unconvincing.”

You laughed, covering your mouth as you swallowed the last bite of cupcake. “Well, we're talking about revolutionary and passionate times, you know. I mean, Stendhal had his characters reflecting all that intensity. Have you read Goethe’s Werther?”

Travis smirked, shaking his head. “Ah, yes, the Werther book. The one with the famous suicide, right?”

You grinned, raising an eyebrow. “That’s the one. The famous suicide and the iconic outfit. I know it gets heavy, but I’ve always liked it.”

He chuckled, nodding as if to humor you.

“My sister made me read it as a teenager, actually. I thought Werther was too… sentimental for my taste.”

You tried not to smile too widely, picturing a young, disinterested Travis, brow furrowed over Goethe’s verses.

“I get it. I was probably more sympathetic to Werther than I should’ve been. I’ve always been a bit of a romantic myself, so maybe it made sense to me. Though I’ll admit, he does get insufferable.”

“Definitely insufferable,” Travis said, still amused. “I’ve always been more into horror anyway.”

The comment made you smile—Travis had a whole shelf at home stacked with DVDs and old VHS tapes of classics like Nightmare on Elm Street, Cujo, and The Birds. You’d teased him about it, of course, but there was something oddly endearing about it too.

As the conversation flowed, a faint twinge made itself known in your stomach, and you shifted in your seat, trying to ignore it. You’d had a glass of beer and two tall glasses of water before coming over, so the feeling wasn’t exactly a surprise.

“I’ll be right back,” you murmured, excusing yourself as you rose from your spot.

In doing so, you glanced over Travis’s shoulder, only to catch sight of Joel and Clara by the pool. Brenda had moved elsewhere, leaving Clara at Joel’s side, closer than casual. She was leaning into him, her hand resting against his shoulder, tucking a stray curl behind his ear, her laugh light and flirtatious. Joel didn’t seem uncomfortable with her proximity. In fact, he was smiling back at her, his gaze locked on hers in a way that made your heart sink just a little. 

You looked away, feeling a strange pang that you couldn’t quite justify. Had he been ignoring Clara before simply because you were there, next to him? But now, alone with her… he didn’t seem to be ignoring her at all.

As you headed toward the house, you forced yourself to shake off the thought. You slipped through the door and let out a sigh of relief, the cool interior air calming your nerves. Walking quietly down the hallway, you reached the bathroom and knocked gently to check if it was free. It was unoccupied, so you slipped inside and closed the door behind you. You paused by the mirror, glancing at your own reflection, almost surprised by the tension in your eyes.

What was Joel doing, looking at Clara like that? Wasn’t he still with Sienna? And what would she think if she saw him now, flirting? It was hard not to wonder if Sienna was like Clara, someone completely different from you. 

Clara was a flash of brilliance, a woman who looked like she’d walked off a magazine cover, golden curls that fell like soft waves of sunlight, her skin bronzed from Texas summers, her green eyes glinting with a brightness that made her seem almost elemental, like an extension of the sun. Her voice was soft, delicate; every word felt chosen, measured. She was flirtatious, always laughing, always seemingly content with the way things were. You could almost imagine that Clara might be Joel’s type—a vibrant, sunlit presence. It would make sense; he was her opposite in every way. When you thought of Joel, you thought of nighttime, the murmur of crickets outside a darkened window, strong coffee and smoky whiskey, a deep, hidden undercurrent. 

And you? You weren’t sure what you were. You weren’t quite the night, nor the day. Maybe you were something in between, or maybe you were just… undetermined. You wanted to think you had some affinity with the moon, but even that seemed too defined.

You sighed, breaking your gaze from your reflection as you felt an urgency to finish up. A moment later, you were washing your hands, the warm water and lavender soap grounding you a bit as your mind drifted again, wandering along with the suds down the drain. You dried your hands with a soft cotton towel, inhaling the fresh, clean scent.

But when you opened the door, you froze in place. Joel was standing there, leaning casually against the wall, his hands tucked behind him. He had been staring at the floor, but as soon as he heard you, his gaze flicked up. There was an intensity in his expression that made you pause, waiting for him to say something, to step aside, to let you pass. But he didn’t move.

When he finally spoke, his voice cut through the small space like a slow crack.

“Are you with him now?”

“With who, Travis?” you said, sounding more dismissive than you’d intended.

He raised an eyebrow, the faintest trace of a smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth.

“Who else? Or is there another I don’t know about?”

You took a few steps closer, folding your arms, letting your expression go cold and tight, the same way it always seemed to be now, whenever you looked at him.

“I really don’t think that’s any of your business, Joel.” You lifted your chin. “I mean, last time I checked, you haven’t been all that open about your life either. So why would I tell you anything about mine now?”

Joel’s smirk twisted into something sharper. “Didn’t stop you from telling Tommy, did it?”

You shrugged. “Well, you’re not Tommy.”

Joel scoffed, crossing his arms, clearly entertained. “Telling Tommy is practically the same as telling me.”

You lifted an eyebrow, unfazed. “If it makes you feel better, go ahead and believe that.”

But his amusement faded, and he looked at you with something almost searching, like he was trying to find a trace of the way you used to be with him—kind, understanding, open in a way that had made him comfortable. You saw the shift in his face, in the way his eyes flicked between yours, like he was looking for some doorway back to that version of you. But she wasn’t here. Or maybe she was, just not for him anymore.

Then he leaned forward slightly, his voice dropping lower, almost a whisper, as he asked, “Did you sleep with him?”

The question hit you, and you stayed silent, unsure if an answer would expose the bitter knot you felt at your center. You hadn’t slept with Travis, not yet anyway. But Joel didn’t know that, and you found a petty thrill in letting him wonder, letting him believe what he wanted—that other hands, other lips had erased him from your memory, replaced every touch. That he had no longer been the last man to touch you.  It was pathetic, you knew it, but the curiosity to see his reaction was stronger than anything else. So you decided not to answer, to let the silence lie for you.

So you simply met his gaze, letting silence serve as an answer, your lips lifting in a faint, cryptic smile. And then you saw the moment he believed it: his jaw tightened, his breath went shallow, and his eyes seemed to darken, hardening.

“Like I said, none of your business,” you finally said, feeling something small and satisfied flare inside.

Joel chuckled, but it was a grim sound. He looked down briefly, and when he looked back up, there was an almost cruel gleam in his eye.

“Did he know where to touch you?”

You scoffed, turning the question back on him. “Do you really want to know?”

The moment the words left your mouth, you regretted them. You knew Joel well enough to know he would go there if he could. But you couldn’t let him gain the upper hand, not here. If anything, you needed to keep him off-balance, keep him uncomfortable.

“Oh, I’m all ears,” he replied, his smile gone now, leaving only a hard, steady gaze that felt like it was drilling into you.

You felt your cheeks flush, but you held his gaze, determined.

“He was the best I’ve ever had,” you said, letting each word hang in the air, daring him to question it. You tilted your head, feigning a fond, private recollection. “Gentle, but rough when I wanted him to be. And you want to know the best part?”

Joel’s throat bobbed as he swallowed, and for a moment, his expression softened. The dark look in his eyes deepened, his smile long gone.

“Afterwards, when I woke up,” you went on, drawing out each word, “Travis was still there.”

Joel’s head dipped, his eyes dropping to the ground, and you took a brief, selfish moment to take in the sight of him, almost broken in front of you. But something twisted in your chest; the satisfaction felt hollow, quickly replaced by a pang of something closer to pity, almost regret. You had an impulse to reach out, to tell him you hadn’t meant it, that Travis wasn’t even in the picture, that he hadn’t been the best or the first or anything. But you couldn’t allow that. 

You had to remind yourself why you’d stopped letting Joel in—how he’d left you out in the cold, how he’d made your feelings seem like nothing, as if they didn’t matter enough to consider. You had to remind yourself of Sienna, this woman who felt like a ghost, hovering between you and Joel, even though you’d never even met her. And if he was really with someone else, what was he doing here, pushing and prying, acting like he had the right to know these things about you? Why was he acting like he cared if you’d moved on, or if you were with someone else, when he was so openly flirting with Clara just a few minutes ago in Brenda’s backyard? Had he become a complete asshole, or had he always been like that and you were just now realizing it?

As the memory of it all flooded back, the tenderness you'd felt earlier drained away, replaced by a familiar, suffocating anger. It surged up from somewhere deep inside you, visceral and sharp, and before you could stop yourself, your body moved instinctively—stepping back, away from him—until your back hit the cold wall by the bathroom door. The impact was jarring, but it felt like a small, needed separation. 

Joel didn’t speak right away. He stood still, his eyes shifting downward, slowly, moving over your body, before meeting your face again. His expression was unreadable, like a mask he didn’t quite know how to remove. It irritated you, this silence, this uncertainty that hung between you two like an unwelcome guest.

Finally, you broke the tension, pushing yourself off the wall and stepping back, away from him. But just as you tried to distance yourself, his voice vibrated through the air, low and deliberate, cutting into your thoughts.

“That’s mine,” he said.

“What?” you managed, almost gasping, your eyes darting between his face and his hands, as if looking for something—anything—to explain this new, impossible tension. 

Joel didn’t move. He was still, a presence that loomed larger by the second. His gaze was steady on you, tracing your body and your face, slow and deliberate.

“The flannel,” he repeated, his voice dropping lower, rough around the edges. “It’s mine.”

You looked down at the fabric, the soft, familiar warmth of it, and felt a sudden jolt. God. He was right. It was his. But it had been yours for years. You'd worn it so often, so comfortably, that you'd forgotten it ever belonged to anyone else. Maybe he'd lent it to you once, a lifetime ago, on one of those cold nights when you both sat under blankets. But he’d never asked for it back, had he? He never seemed to care, and you never thought to return it. It had just... stayed with you.

When you lifted your eyes back to him, Joel had moved off the wall, stepping toward you with slow, deliberate steps, closing the distance between you. Too close. He was too close, and you could feel the heat radiating off his body as his presence engulfed you.

“What happened?” His voice was soft, but there was a simmering undercurrent, a teasing tone that made your pulse quicken, though you weren’t sure why. “Did you forget to include it in your little box when you gave everything back to me?”

You felt a bitter chuckle bubble in your throat, an angry little sound that you couldn’t quite hold back. You shook your head slightly, irritated, your chest tight as you opened your mouth to speak, but he interrupted you, his words coming fast, sharper than before.

“Doesn’t your little boyfriend mind you wearing another man’s clothes?” he asked, his voice dripping with something like disdain, like he had been holding that question inside for far too long. His eyes darkened, gliding down to the fabric again, then to your body, before he reached forward, his fingers brushing the edge of the flannel as if testing the boundaries. “Or does he already know this isn’t the only thing of mine that’s wrapped around you?”

A shiver ran through you, a mixture of anger and something else—something hotter, something less easy to define. You didn’t want to feel it, but it was there, and it was impossible to ignore.

No. This wasn’t about that. This was about him—how dare he?

In a sudden movement, your hands moved to the buttons of the flannel, fumbling with them in a rush, eager to take it off, to rid yourself of him. But as you tugged the fabric down over your shoulders, you felt Joel’s hand close around your left wrist, his palm warm against your skin, halting you, slowing you down. The touch was too familiar, too intimate, and it sent a jolt of something you couldn’t quite identify straight to your stomach.

“No,” he said, his voice suddenly low and commanding, like he was trying to anchor you, like he was trying to hold you in place. “It’s yours. Don’t take it off.”

You snorted, a dry, incredulous sound, and with an almost violent motion, you yanked your hand away from his, finishing the job of removing the flannel with a sharp tug. 

Joel’s jaw tightened, his eyes darkening further, and for a moment, you could see the effort it took him to stay still. His eyes lingered on you, tracing your every move, as you held the soft fabric against his chest. You could feel the air shift, feel the weight of his gaze on your skin, and your heart beat a little faster. 

You looked up at him, the anger suddenly spilling out of you. “No. You’re right. It’s yours. I should have given it back to you a long time ago.”

His hand moved up to his chest, over yours, taking the fabric from you with a slow, deliberate motion.

“Put it back on,” he said, his voice softer now, like he was trying to smooth over something that had frayed. "It's cold outside."

You wanted to fight it, to say something sharp, but your irritation bubbled up before you could stop it.

“Good thing I live across the block, then,” you blurted, the words coming out thicker with frustration as you pulled your hand free from under his, feeling the heat of his fingers linger on your skin.

Joel's patience was running thin. His hand shot out again, grabbing the flannel in a fist and pulling it closer to you, the fabric stretching between your bodies.

“Stop being so stubborn and put it back on,” he said, his tone more demanding, more urgent. His voice had a sharpness to it now, almost like a warning.

Something inside you snapped. You shoved his hand back hard, with as much force as you could muster, pushing him away—not enough to hurt, but enough to make your point. His body didn’t move, though. It stayed solid, unyielding, the broadness of his shoulders making you feel small, like you were being swallowed by his presence.

Frustration bubbled inside you, gnawing at your chest as you turned sharply on your heels, determined to leave. Your steps were quick, purposeful, as you made your way toward the hallway exit, the air heavy with everything left unsaid between you and Joel. But then, a firm grip wrapped around your wrist, dragging you back to him. You pivoted on instinct, meeting his gaze with eyes darkened by anger, sharp and focused.

For a moment, your mind flashed with the impulse to tear his hand off your wrist, to wrench it away and walk out of this whole mess. But you let it go. Instead, you locked eyes with him, your breath catching as your irritation turned into something more potent—exasperation.

“Enough, Joel,” you said, your voice cutting through the tension like a blade. “I'm tired of fighting with you.” The words spilled out before you could stop them, and inside, you couldn’t help but wonder how it had come to this—how two people who once fit so easily together had ended up here, so broken and scattered. 

“Then let’s not fight,” he said, his voice softer now, almost like he was pleading. There was a quiet desperation in his words, a slight hitch, as if he was offering a fragile truce. “We can—”

“I’m afraid that’s impossible,” you interrupted, your words sharp and cold, the bitterness clinging to every syllable. “I can’t stand you anymore.” As soon as they left your lips, you realized how hard and cruel they sounded, but you didn’t care. You were exhausted. Tired of the games, tired of the back-and-forth. The anger inside you surged again, hotter than before, as his fingers tightened around your wrist, forcing you to feel the weight of it. Desperation.

“Don’t look for me,” you continued, the words raw and unrelenting. “Don’t talk to me anymore. Don’t look at me. I don’t want anything to do with you. I’ve had enough of all of this. If I could go back in time, I’d change everything, I’d avoid all of this shit.” The heat in your chest built as tears threatened, burning behind your eyes. “But I can’t. I can’t do anything about it, and neither can you, so leave me the fuck alone for once. Avoid me if you can and I’ll avoid you. Pretend I don’t fucking exist. I don't know. Just stop it, Joel.”

The impact of your words hit him like a physical blow. You saw the flash of pain in his eyes, the way his mouth twisted, his face contorting in a wince. Something inside you sank, and for a moment, regret pierced you. But then, the anger pushed the guilt aside. He hadn’t been considerate of you before, had he? And that thought, that realization, let the remorse slip away.

His grip loosened just slightly, but he didn’t release you. Instead, his fingers trailed down to your palm, stroking it gently with his fingertips, his breath shallow and measured, like he was holding himself back from saying something more. 

For a moment, you both stood still, suspended in that space, him looking at you, and you trying not to look at him—waiting, anticipating what would come next. What was the right thing to do now? You should walk away. Right now. Now. 

But then his voice, quiet and soft, cut through the air.

“You don’t need me anymore?”

“No,” you said, the word escaping before you could stop it. The lie tasted bitter on your tongue, and the second it left you, you could feel it: the squeeze in your chest, the twisting of your heart. It wasn’t true, not really. But you wanted it to be. You wanted it to be true more than anything.

Joel’s eyes flickered, just for a second, like they were searching for something in your face that wasn’t there. His expression faltered, his hand falling away from yours, his gaze dropping to the floor, as if the weight of your words had crushed him. 

“I know that’s not true, baby,” he whispered, his voice rough with something you couldn’t name, but it was too much. You couldn’t bear to see it.

You shook your head, refusing to let the crack in your own resolve show.

“Maybe not, yet,” you said, your voice colder now, harder. “But I’ll do whatever it takes to make it true.”

With that, you turned away before you could second-guess yourself, before you could see his reaction and let the guilt undo you. You didn’t want to stay. Not now. If you stayed a moment longer, you knew you would apologize, you’d cave, you’d let him back in. But you couldn’t. You couldn’t keep doing this. 

You walked quickly back to your seat, each step carrying you farther away from him, from the tension that had become unbearable. You barely noticed Travis’s worried look when you sat down next to him.

“Are you all right?” he asked, his voice laced with concern. “You were gone a while.”

You nodded, forcing a weak, half-smile. But inside, it felt like everything was crumbling. Your bones felt brittle, as if they might snap with the weight of it all. Your body had turned to lead, your muscles drained of all strength. Your eyes, heavy with unshed tears, were a reflection of the ache in your chest. 

You just wanted to go home, crawl into your bed, and never come out. The lump in your throat grew larger with every second, and the cold air stung your neck, making you shiver.

“What happened to your shirt?” Travis asked, noticing the way your body had become tense and cold.

You didn’t answer, relieved when he stood and came to stand beside you. You watched as he shrugged off his jacket, his movements gentle, as he draped it over your shoulders and helped you tuck your arms into it. 

Once you were warm, Travis slipped his arm over your shoulders, pulling you into him, his soft kiss to the top of your head offering a fleeting moment of comfort. You couldn’t help but lean into him, resting your head on his collarbone, inhaling the familiar scent of his perfume. For a moment, you allowed yourself to feel the comfort of being held, the peace of someone who wasn’t trying to tear you apart.

But then you heard it—the sliding door opening. And you knew. 

When you opened your eyes, you saw him. Joel. Walking out of the house, his pace slow, deliberate, as he clutched the flannel shirt in his left hand. His eyes were cast downward, but when he looked up, they locked on you. His expression shifted, something unreadable in the way he looked at you, and your stomach dropped. 

He walked toward his table, his fist clenching the fabric so tightly that his knuckles went white, his gaze never leaving you. You couldn’t look away either. It was like a magnetic pull. 

At his table, Carla was waiting, her eyes fixed on him like a hawk circling prey. You felt an involuntary surge of disgust. You wanted to stand up, to march over there and shake her, to tell her to leave, to stop, that she was being pathetic. But then, the sharp, bitter truth hit you: Carla wasn’t the problem. You were. She reminded you of yourself—the way you’d clung to Joel, the way you’d let him define you. 

Joel spoke, his voice angry and loud enough for you to hear from where you sat. 

“I’m going home,” he said, his eyes cutting through Carla as he raised his head to her height. Then he pulled back, holding out his hand. “Y'wanna come with me?”

And there it was—the knot in your chest tightened. Carla nodded, flushed with a victorious smile, and took his hand. The same hand that had held yours just minutes before. 

You closed your eyes, sinking further into Travis’s embrace, the ache in your chest spreading, overwhelming. 

You couldn’t leave now. Not with him walking out, not with her next to him. What would you do? Cross paths with them on the way out? Watch them walk away together? The thought was unbearable.

“Can we go to your place for a while?” Your voice was small, almost breaking as you whispered into Travis’s chest. 

“Sure thing, honey,” he murmured, the warmth of his body offering a small, fleeting comfort against the storm of emotions inside you.

-

@nobodyssfool @gigistorm @ @auteurdelabre @yesjazzywazzylove-blog @cosmic006533-blog @doblasftcisco @maiyart @concrete-jungleeee @playboygirlsnextdoor00 @powellssaturn @kyloispunk @paleidiot @aceaubrianna @liciafonseca @kaolusha @beeboopski

@maryfanson @rosebuds-and-moonlight @the-universe-is-complicated @formulafun @chewie-bars @glizzymcguirex @pedroswife69 @ivoryandflame @dixonswingz @sarahhxx03 @mellymbee @dailyobsession @msmorningstaarr @mystickittytaco @xxreginaxx @marellabyr @spacegirl-3 @alrihhty @heheheilovepedro @svrgs-blog @94namkooksworld @puddles221b @cowboymcflurry @medusaandposeidonshead @stylesispunk @sweatpeakarolinaa @puddles221b @deansimpalagirl @jasminedragoon @lover-of-books-and-tea @whimsiwitchy @cuteanimalmama @theherothesavior @ivoryandflame

[fairy-writes]

Hi!! I saw that you write for Arcane and had a really cute idea for Vander. I don’t really see a lot of fics where you get to see Vander’s reactions to the reader either playing with the kids or comforting them, so I thought a fic centered around that might be cute? (I think also having a bit of slow burn would be sweet, like both Vander and the reader like each other but don’t do anything about it until getting a little push from the kids because they ship).

ONE LITTLE PUSH

Reblogs and Comments are greatly appreciated!!

__________________________________________________________________________

Fandom(s): Arcane: League of Legends

Pairing(s): Vander x Reader

Word Count: 1.9k

Genre(s)/Tag(s): Gender Neutral!Reader, Bit of a Slowburn, Fluff, Getting Together, Reader is Smaller than Vander (but who isn’t?), Sibling Bickering

Notes: VANDER MY FAVORITE

(No, but seriously, contrary to popular belief, he’s my 1st favorite over Viktor)

JUST IN TIME (kind of) FOR SEASON TWO, LETS GOOOOO

__________________________________________________________________________

Vander wasn’t quite sure why you stuck around for so long. 

In fact, he wasn’t sure why you stuck around in the first place. 

But… As Vander watches you with the kids. His kids. He begins to understand why. 

You were kind, unyieldingly so. Even as Mylo grew to start picking on Powder, even as they fought, you were kind and patient and offered them the unending gentle love they all so craved. 

The love he couldn’t afford to give them because who could be gentle in the Undercity? Especially in the depths of the Lanes?

You could. 

Vander was in the middle of pouring a drink when Powder tumbled into The Last Drop. She was covered in bruises and dust from something. Or someone. She barely met his gaze as she clambered to her feet and all but sprinted into the back where they all slept. Vander looked through the multitude of customers and spotted you. 

You had obviously seen Powder go bolting, worry twisting your face as you glanced toward the bar and met his stare. You arched an eyebrow, and he shrugged. You rolled your eyes and sighed before smiling in jest and getting up from where you had been tinkering with the jukebox. 

Vander finally manages to get away from his chatty clients and makes his way back into the back room nearly fifteen minutes later. 

Only to pause by the door. 

“—ylo hates me! He does, I swear!” Powder cries, and you hush her gently, dabbing what looks to be some of the antiseptic you have lying around on her cuts and bruises. Disinfectant was hard to come by, especially in the Lanes, but you were seemingly magic in the sense that you always knew who to talk to to get some. It seems you had worked your magic yet again. 

“Did Mylo say that he hates you?” You ask gently, whispering a quiet “sorry” under your breath as she flinched with the sting of the antiseptic. 

Powder pauses, thinking what had to be her earlier conversation over, 

“Well… No…” She mumbles, and you hum, 

“Can I give you my honest opinion?” You ask, and she stills, looking up at you with wide eyes before nodding. 

“Aren’t you always honest with us?” She asks. You chuckle at that. 

“I suppose I am. But I don’t think Mylo hates you. Does he find you a bit annoying? Maybe. But every big brother thinks that about their younger siblings. I know mine did.” You say, and Powder mulls your words over and over and over in her mind. 

She always did overthink things. 

“I didn't know you had a big brother.” She says eventually, and you let out a loud laugh at that. 

“You are a silly girl for focusing on that. But yes, I came from a big family. And guess what? I was the baby of the family. Just. Like. You.” You say, emphasizing your words with a pinch to her side. Powder squeals with laughter and wriggles away to escape your dastardly tickling. 

Vander hangs his head with a huff and a smile before turning to head back to the bar counter. He can hear your conversation continue as Powder escapes your grasp.

“Now, where did you get all these bruises from?”

“Um… Vi taught me parkour from Topside down…”

“Powder! You’re like seven!”

“Seven and a half! And she said I was ready!”

Ever since you began to stick around, you had become something of a parent figure to the four little children Vander had come into care for. 

To Vi and Powder especially. 

So when Mylo burst into The Last Drop with the words of a fistfight on his tongue, you were the first one out the door. 

Vander was close behind. 

Mylo led you and Vander deep into the Undercity. In fact, it was so far into the Undercity that Vander was worried they were getting into some dark territory. 

Like… Really dark territory. 

But soon enough, the sounds of a fight were heard, and soon after, you were deep in the throng of a multi-person fistfight. Everyone paused for a second when they saw you and then stopped altogether when they spotted Vander not far behind. 

You began to pull people off and shoved them out of the way. You did this again and again, ducking under a few stray punches until you managed to unearth Vi. 

She wasn’t looking too hot. 

Her face was bruised and swollen, and the fifteen-year-old spat out a wad of blood as she bared her bloody teeth and prepared to fight again. 

At least until she saw you. 

It was as if the tension had been released from her shoulders. 

She all but slumped into your grasp, and you stumbled back a step with the sudden weight. Vander yanked the last person away from you both and scooped up his adoptive daughter. She leaned her head into the crook of his neck and was obviously fighting back tears. 

Mylo was hunched over, hands on his knees, and wheezed from all the sprinting. 

“Vi? Violet, can you hear me?” You said as soon as you all returned to The Last Drop, and Vander set her down on the couch. Powder and Claggor had been found a block away, fighting off more thugs from whoever sent them after the literal children. 

He would've pummeled them to a pulp if Vander hadn’t hung up his gauntlets years before. 

Vi’s head lolled from side to side, and you shone a pocket flashlight into her eyes, watching as her pupils dilated and contracted. You were experienced at this, taking care of people, even more so than he thought. 

Were you a doctor deep in your past? 

As Vander thought about it, he realized he didn’t know practically anything about you. Your past, your likes, dislikes, he knew you were good with machines and medicine and that you came from a big family. But that was it. 

And that hurt his heart. 

You ended up ushering everyone out of the room while you worked on caring for Vi. Vander closed the bar early and was in the middle of putting chairs on tables when you emerged. Powder, Mylo, and Claggor dropped what they were doing. They scampered to your side, a chorus of “How’s Vi?” erupting from the kids. You offered them a tired smile and patted their heads. 

“She’ll be okay. She’s resting right now. You can go in and see her if you’re quiet.”

And then it was the two of you. 

Vander set the final chair on top of the table and meandered his way over where you were sitting at the bar, head in your hands. 

You looked tired. 

“Is she really okay?” He asked, and you grunted, rubbing at your temples. 

“She has a broken nose, fractured left arm, some bruised ribs, and a concussion. Which, all things considered, she’s very lucky. It could’ve been a lot worse.” You say, and he sighs, 

“Did she say why she got into the fight?” He replied, and you shrug, 

“She was protecting Powder. Then, more people started showing up until it was an all-out brawl. That’s when we stepped in.” You say, and his shoulders sag. 

Vi was going to be okay. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever said it. But thank you. For everything you’ve done. Taking care of them and all that.” He says, and you just hum. 

“You guys gave me a home after everything. I’m just repaying my debt. Well… that and I love those kids.” You say, and he arches an eyebrow,

“After everything?” He inquires, and you glance up sharply as if not realizing what you had said. 

Eventually, your gaze casts downward, and you run a hand over your head and through your hair. 

“I was a doctor in Piltover before the rebellion. I was caught trying to help the Undercity before they were officially citizens and cast out.” You say, and his arched eyebrow raises even higher. 

“A doctor? Were you any good?” You bark out a dry laugh at that,

“One of the best!” Your voice cracks as you speak, and he feels his heart splinter into pieces. 

Vander should’ve known that Claggor and Mylo were up to something when they came in with sneaky grins on their faces. 

The Last Drop was all but desolate. It was the wee hours of the morning before the people of the Undercity awoke to begin their day. But the door was unlocked, and the kids were allowed to run in and out as they pleased. 

Which they had been doing a lot in the last hour or so. 

“Vander!” Mylor clamored for his adopted father’s attention, waving an excited hand as he scampered up to the counter. Claggor hung behind, ever the stoic young man. But there was mischief in their eyes and curling the corners of their mouths. 

Vander slung the rag he used to wipe the counters down over his shoulder and leaned on the bar counter. 

“What did you do now?” He teased, and Mylo all but squawked. 

“When have I ever done anything?!” Vander just stared, 

“Do you really want me to answer that?” He asked, and Claggor snickered at Mylo’s deflated expression. Mylo quickly spun on a heel and jabbed a finger at his adopted brother, 

“Not a word outta you, Claggor!” He snapped before spinning back as something dawned on him.

“You gotta come with us!” He demanded, and Vander glanced between the two of them. 

“Why?” He asked, and Mylo let out an exaggerated groan.

“No questions! Just come on!” He grabbed Vander’s hand and tried tugging him around the counter and toward the front door. 

Vander relented, locking the door behind him as he followed the two boys. 

Only to realize very quickly what was actually going on. 

His first tip-off was hearing Powder and Vi’s voices, yours mixed in as you asked where you were going, why they were taking you, and what they were doing. 

Vi answered no questions. Powder just chirped excitedly. “You’ll see! You’ll see!”

The six of you met in the middle of the street, Powder dragging you by your hand as you followed behind patiently. You glanced up from listening to Powder, and your gazes met. Vander felt his heart skip a beat as he took in your appearance. There wasn’t anything particularly new, but you looked like you had cleaned up some. Your hair was pinned neatly back, and your clothes looked ironed. 

You looked… Really nice.

“Vander? What’s going on?” You asked, and Vi nudged you with her good arm. Her fractured left one was still healing carefully under your care. 

“We’re setting you two up.” She teased, and you stared dumbly. 

“Setting us up how?” You asked, and now it was Powder’s turn to blurt out an answer, 

“On a date!” 

Before the two of you could react, all four kids all but disappeared around the corner in a cloud of dust. Leaving you facing Vander and utterly alone. 

It was safe to say he was panicking just a little bit. 

“Vander? Do you have any idea what they meant?” You asked gently, and he scrubbed a hand down his face. 

“My guess is they want us to go on a date.” He said, fully prepared to hear rejection. Because who would want to go on a date with him? A middle-aged man with a stained past. His lungs twisted as he heard you take a step closer. 

A smaller hand slipped into his, and he looked down from where he had been staring at Topside. 

Your eyes were lit up, not with disgust at the proposition he was proposing. 

But they were filled with hope for the future this relationship would bring. 

[angellwingss]

Wasn’t going to go on a big rant but you know what since that other post is gaining traction yeah I think I will. So big long rant under the cut. Lolll

I feel like. A lot of people might tell me ‘it’s not that deep’ but to me it is that deep.

I don’t have a problem with JayVik or it’s shippers like. At all. I just think some of them are à really good demonstration of like. Every bad thing when it comes to fandom ever LMAO.

Once again I am (supposed to be) writing a whole big long essay about this already so I will try and keep this kind of short and sweet and it might be a bit lacking but wtvr.

I think a lot of JayVik fans tend to be white queer people. Someone left a tag on my OG post that said basically ‘my take is I’m a faggot and I don’t have to care about a character if I don’t want to’ and no hate to that person cuz you’re right, but this is exactly the kind of stuff that made me make that first post.

I feel like a lot of white queer people have an issue with seeing outside their own identity? If that makes sense? This is seen time and time again with the way some of them behave when big movements happen online, some have a tendency to centre themselves and whatnot so i think it’s kind of the same thing.

It makes total sense that a queer person would prefer queer ships and would prefer JayVik over MelJay, that is not a crime. But I do think part of that is because they can’t relate/identify with Mel or see themselves in her like they can with Jayce or Viktor.

I hate to also make it about feminism but i think a lot of you guys are super like. Male centred, like just in your attraction which once again, not the issue not a crime. But i think it’s also why CaitVi, which is a canon queer ship, although popular is still not quite as popular as JayVik despite being canon. Women fetishizing gay men in fandom is not something new, which I think might play a small part in it- I’ve seen a lot of people especially back in s1 infantilizing Viktor and acting like he had no agency or independence and that he NEEDS Jayce to take care of him (that’s another thing. Ableism(looks at you with my eyes)) and they also do the same thing with Jayce where they act like he had 0 agency with any decisions he makes and that he’s like a big dumb baby who doesn’t know anything politics. Hey, guys. That’s a grown man.

My main issue isn’t that people prefer JayVik over MelJay it’s just that some shippers demonize Mel to an insane degree, blame her for getting in the way of their ship (this is also happening right now with Maddie- there’s a leak going around saying that she gets with Caitlyn and people are so upset that this character is getting some INSANE hate and I feel like that’s the same thing going on.)

they blame her for ‘stealing’ Jayce etc etc like. Idk. You don’t have to ship MelJay but I wish more people would appreciate Mel just as a character- imo she is super interesting and has a great story but she’s only ever seen and ‘the other woman’. I’ve seen people say she isn’t like, well characterized and that her story entirely revolves around Jayce which. Yeah she’s definitely heavily involved with him in s1 but she’s clearly got a lot more going on than just that and you would know that if you GAF 🗣️🗣️

for just being. Who she is. I think Mel deserves more attention just in the fandom and it’s just frustrating. People making memes about Jayce going insane over Viktor leaving but like. Mel also just got fucking kidnapped guys. His lover has just vanished without a trace why is nobody also talking about that !!!! Why can’t he care about both these people at the same time !!!!!!!

Anyway I’m not nearly well equipped enough to talk more in-depth about like. Any of this but I do think the demonization of Mel and refusal to see her relationship with Jayce as it is can often times be boiled down to racism like straight up. And also things like the fetishization of gay men in fandom and just things like that are sometimes what can lead to female characters- even the well written ones to be shelved and pushed aside in favour of their male counterparts.

Obligatory ‘not all JayVik fans’ obviously a lot of you are awesome, shouldn’t have to say this. If I’m not aiming for you, you shouldn’t be getting shot.

[zepskies]

Omg, welcome back, lovely!! 😍

(More comments on your lovely comments below):

Such a sweet fic. At first, I felt a little bad because I can feel Dean justifying all the insecurities he has about himself, the self-hate was only 2 steps away. But I believed in her, I knew that she was not hesitant. I knew she was upto something.

Aww thank you!! Ah, you know Dean. Always so self-deprecating. I didn't get too deep into "why" he starts fretting already when he sees her gone, but for all those reasons you mentioned. I felt like anyone who knows Dean, knows why he goes there in his mind all too soon to "did she regret it already?"

She was upto celebrating his birthday. That melted my heart. Ofc she wants to celebrate this man. He should be celebrated every day, especially on the day he was born. And she baked him a pie. For his birthday. All those doubts he was having, they flew out of the window.

That she was!! Sneaky girl. 😉 And she got him good! Dean does deserve all the pie and celebrating him that he can take, even if he doesn't think he deserves it. 🥧

And I loved how stunted Dean was that he had to show his appreciation and his thank you by kissing her. He was at loss of words. He's never had that. He doesn't even remember when was the last time he celebrated his birthday.

He was shocked, wasn't he? 😂 It's crazy how little their birthdays are talked about or celebrated on SPN. Like I get it, they're trying to tell a lot of story, but there's nothing much centered around their birthdays, implying that they don't really celebrate them. 💙

Thank you for such a sweet fic. You have no idea how much I needed this. (And also, I'm really very sorry for having disappeared. I'm trying to get some time to catch up on all those lovely fics you've written. I promise it'll be soon. I can't wait to read them. And thank you for not removing me from your tags.) Keep up the good work.

Aww you're very welcome! 🥹 That's part of the reason I write and share -- in case anyone needs the same dose of escapism as I do. 💕

Don't apologize, hun! Real life always comes first and I hope you're well, but I'm also glad to see that you're back! If you do get a chance to read other stuff I've shared in the meantime, I would absolutely love it. 😉

Restless Nights

Pairing: Dean Winchester x F. Reader

Summary: After a tryst you instigated in the backseat of his Baby, you and Dean have started something new. He’s just not sure that you’re as “all in” as you claimed to be.

AN: As promised, here's a bonus one-shot to follow Maybe More Than Enough, though it can be read as a stand-alone. This is based on a request from @lacilou, one of my lovely Patreon members!

Bonus! It fulfills the @spnfanficpond monthly prompt. (Can’t give it away until the end though!)

Request: A Dean story based on the song “I Remember You” by Skid Row.

Word Count: 1.2K

Tags/Warnings: Angst, fluff, implied mentions of sex, bit of a twist ending… 

Dean woke to the sound of pouring rain hitting the roof of the bunker.

It must’ve been some torrential downpour, because it took a lot for him to hear anything of the outside world from inside this place. Good thing the old heaters kept out the January cold, too. Nothing worse than frigid rain.

Blearily he cracked his eyes open, unearthed an arm from where it was tucked under his pillow, and carefully raised his phone to check the time, trying not to let the light from the screen burn his retinas in the still dark room.

4:00 a.m.

He groaned. Goddamn it.

He turned over onto his other side to face where you should’ve been lying next to him. He frowned when he saw nothing but the sheets pulled back and a dented, empty pillow.

No matter how he fought it down, a small tinge of worry, and the beginnings of disappointment churned in his gut. His brows furrowed.

Did you regret it already?

After his first make out session with you (turned more session) in the backseat of his Baby, you two struck a tentative agreement to figure what this could be—more than hunting partners, allies, and friends. Despite the fact that you kissed him first (a fact he didn’t easily let you forget), afterwards, you’d been a little hesitant about what came next.

“We take it day by day,” he’d told you, with a sizzling kiss that stole your breath. “All I know is…this feels good.”

It felt right. You had definitely agreed with that.

Dean sighed through his nose, turning back onto his other side. It wasn’t unusual for him to be a light (restless) sleeper, but the handful of times you’d joined him in his bed had been beginning to make his nights calmer. He was actually starting to sleep through until morning.

What’s more, after years of looking into your eyes and seeing all the possibilities of what if, he was finally getting to make those images solid, and real. He could touch them, taste them, feel them under his calloused hands. He finally had you for real.

He looked past your empty spot in his bed and didn’t see your phone, or any of your rings on the nightstand. They were the first things you put on in the morning, and the last things you took off at night.

If those were gone…

His disappointment was settling high in his chest now; an ache approaching pain.

Until he heard the light sound of bare feet padding back toward the bed. Your hand slid gently up his arm, and after the surprise wore off, the corners of his lips tugged upwards. Your hair was a bit wild and frizzy. It tickled his neck and shoulder when you leaned in to kiss his cheek.

“What’s this?” you whispered, swiping two fingers between the crunch in his brows. Dean relaxed with a small smile.

“Nothin’,” he claimed. His voice was deep and rough with sleep. “Had an appointment to get to or something?”

You smiled and settled into bed, embracing him from behind. He turned onto his back and welcomed you over, with an arm curling around your waist. He rested his hand on yours when it smoothed across his chest.

Subtly glancing down, he didn’t find any of the silver you wore on the daily, including the ring with a small turquoise stone he’d bought you a couple weeks ago, on a hunt in Denver. That one, you now almost never took off.

“I put them away in a drawer,” you said, wiggling your fingers under his hand. Your hand felt dry, and a little like you'd been handling something dusty. Had you been up reading in the library again, lost track of time? “When I woke up, I saw one fell off the nightstand. Have a feeling it had something to do with the bedframe knocking against it.”

At that, Dean couldn’t contain his lazy smirk.

“My bad,” he said, sounding anything but sorry.

You laughed, shaking your head. You still laid a kiss below his shoulder before you settled back down. He gave your waist a gentle squeeze, pressing a kiss of his own to your forehead. A deep breath fell from between his lips, and his eyes closed.

A question was on the tip of his tongue. Where you were, why you got up. Was it something he could help with? Or was it one of those moments you needed to have alone, not unlike the times you gave him to settle with his thoughts, after a hunt gone sideways. If it was important, you’d level with him, wouldn’t you?

So he let it be.

In the morning, you somehow once again managed to get out of bed without him feeling it. He didn’t hear you either. Curiosity led him down the hall and glancing inside the cracked door of Sam’s room. It was empty, his running shoes gone from the side of his bed. Dean rolled his eyes.

All right, Lance.

Oh, wait, that was biking. …Whatever.

Dean’s next path inevitably took him down to the kitchen. His stomach was already percolating—in need of good coffee and (hopefully) good food.

The smell wafting from the kitchen surprised him, however. Cinnamon apples?

He turned the corner, and there he found you.

The fuck?

You looked a bit of a mess. Your hair was thrown up into a haphazard bun, and you’d stolen his apron. Though in his eyes, you made it look better, the white fabric hugging around your curves like you were Rachel Ray or something. You were frazzled when he came downstairs, but happy to see him. You beckoned him over and sat him down at the small kitchen table.

“Sweetheart, what’s going on here?” he asked, eying you curiously.

“Just stay there!” you called from the kitchen. He heard you opening the oven, cursing when you nearly dropped something.

What the hell were you doing baking before 9:00 a.m.?

He turned to ask you what was going on (and if you needed help), but before the words could come out of his mouth, you came over and carefully set down the pie in front of him. The rich aroma, the golden flaky crust, the flecks of cinnamon and glossy apples peeking out from the divots in said crust—it all had Dean’s mouth watering, and his shocked gaze fixed on the shiny pastry.

He startled a little when he felt your hands on his shoulders, sliding part of the way down his arms. You kissed the side of his head.

“Thought I wouldn’t remember, did you?” you teased. “Happy Birthday, baby.”

Dean’s throat constricted. He tried not to show it, but your gaze gentled when he finally met yours, like you were seeing through all his layers anyway. He realized then what you were probably working on last night, and he really couldn’t fucking believe it.

He’d forgotten his own birthday. Couldn’t see much use in celebrating, when year after crappy year…

But he closed a hand over yours on his shoulder, and he brought your hand to his lips.

Every word he couldn’t yet say to you was etched in that single gesture.

AN: Short and angsty sweet! lol And the monthly prompt was "pie!" 🥧 For Dean of course. 😂

Hope you guys enjoy this one! 💜

Join Patreon 🌟 For early access to new stories, bonus content, first looks at upcoming stories, send me requests, and more!

Dean Winchester One-Shots 

Dean Winchester Masterlist 

Main Masterlist 

Dean W. Tag List

@hobby27 @kazsrm67 @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007 @mostlymarvelgirl

@wincastifer @iamsapphine @roseblue373 @this-is-me19 @emily-winchester

@spnexploration @deans-spinster-witch @deans-baby-momma @iprobablyshipit91 @sanscas

@globetrotter28 @adoringanakin @teehxk @midnightmadwoman @chevroletdean

@agalliasi @chriszgirl92 @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @spnfamily-j2

@deansbbyx @sarahgracej @chernayawidow @mimaria420 @stoneyggirl2

@fics-pics-andotherthings-i-like @waywardxwords @waynes-multiverse @twinkleinadiamondsky @ajjustice

@my-stories-vault @kayleighwinchester @rizlowwritessortof @samslvrgirl @tortureddarkstar

@tmb510 @syrma-sensei @artemys-ackles @malindacath @mrsjenniferwinchester

@jc-winchester @charmed-asylum @fromcaintodean @k-slla @jackles010378

@deanbrainrotwritings @urfav-tz @alwaystiredandconfused @mrlonelycat @deans-daydream

@deanwinchestersgirl87 @rachiem4-blog @sweettimelady @leigh70 @aylacavebear

@jays-bonnie-on-the-side @kmc1989 @ghostslillady @siampie @rubyvhs

@winchestergirl2 @a-lil-pr1ncess @winchester-whiskey @spnbabe67 @cheynovak

@megara0224 @yoongi-holland @illicithallways @perpetualabsurdity @deansimpala

@jessjad @impala-dreamer @k4marina @atenea585 @king-of-milf-lovers

@g0ldfishd00dles @10ava01 @sixxteenbullets @tayl0rfanatic @everything-is-all-clear

@masked-lost-girl

[meo-eiru]

I kinda like the small yet big detail in the game, like I'm sure myself and some other people were expecting a wholesome dating sim that would also get quite spicy (FROM HOW WE KNOW MERU)

And we all just kinda got kicked in the butt, like Starling being too hot to be true yet so terrifying at the same time, but not the terrifying kind that we know, like Micah or Silas etc

More like the type that makes you forget that he still is more a siren than a merman, like he successfully managed to lure in the whole community with his hot ass😭😭and then we get backstabbed by him munching our fingers off as if they're some carrots, like as a simple lunch snack-💀💀

Or in the other ending where it's basically simply Mae dying and getting turned into a possession and probably just another body to fill up with tongues

From my interpretation, Starling doesn't really have that kind of romantic interest in Mae, but she kinda thought it could go into that direction, but then got stabbed in the back like that😭😭(probs everyone who played it, thought like Mae there too kinda💀so we all got the betrayal🙁)

And you guys did a really good job in simply catching us all off guard in most scenes, it's it's beautifully written and drawn, I love that game so much!!!

Spoilers for the game

Honestly maybe Sel would give a different answer but I do think Starling likes Maelyn. Due to his past and what he has now become his way of showing it is probably different, but for Starling I don't think Maelyn is just another body for storing tongues. If that was the case he wouldn't have went out of his way to clean her body up, find a wedding dress and "marry" her in his own makeshift way.

He probably didn't even view it as a betrayal. Because until the very end Starling was making sure the no longer breathing Maelyn could be comfortable in her pearl necklace.

For the writing style, probably Sel writing the story played a big part in this.

Sel and I have very similar tastes in a lot of things, on levels I myself can't believe sometimes. But we do have a different style at how we depict similar concepts.

I love presenting dark stories on a silver platter. Prettied up with the most delicious icings and shiniest sprinkles. I like my stories and characters to look beautiful. Enjoy them while thinking you're just having whimsy adventures only to realize you're done for once you truly look. Like Silas. It's easy to make fun of him, forget the things he is capable of doing as you're too busy enjoying his silliness. He feels safe, a gentle giant who loves and takes care of you.

But he's still a man who has forced himself on you not only physically but also mentally. Trapped and limited you beyond belief. No electricity, no internet, no contact with anyone other than him. Only talking to him, only feeling him, only knowing him, only consuming him. A beautiful and sweet man no human mind can handle for more than a few weeks.

But Sel, from what I've seen, is a bit different. She doesn't shy away from showing the darkness and scariness of the stories she makes. Before you even know it you'll be facing concepts you didn't think could be possible.

And not only that, she hides so much under every word she uses. Often times the things she places in front of you are not even the scariest parts. The more you read and the more you decipher they get deeper.

I'm frankly a big fan of the things she writes. They often leave me flabbergasted (and mortified, she knows what I mean) but they are also so so fun. So scary yet beautifully poetic.

I know she doesn't like being under the spotlight that much. But ever since I met her and saw her stories I wanted more people to get the chance to see and appreciate them the way they deserved. I think they are truly special, and they make me want to do my best to illustrate them in the perfect way possible.

Honestly I'm not sure if I'm good enough at it, but if it helps the stories reach more people I'm happy with it.

I don't know if she'll read this post so that's why I'm being sappy like this but I genuinely hope you guys like her stories like I do. And I hope both you and I can see more and more of it.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Hopefully this doesn't come off as snarky, but I find it genuinely hilarious that every "big-name" Leona fan that I've seen seems to like him against their will lol. I've always had Leona as my favorite, so it's fun to see the journey other people go through to liking/appreciating him!

Look 💦 I can’t speak for other L*ona likers (regardless of size, honestly; I'm a firm believer that one's level of internet fame isn't a factor in the devotion for a character) but for me—to quote Scar—“my words are a matter of pride.” And by confessing to (ick 🤢) LIKING LION… it’s throwing all that pride out of a window. It seriously does feel like these feelings exist against my will.

I have a summary of my story to explain my relationship with the lion lore 💀 I call it a summary, but it’s still kind of long— It's below the cut for those who are interested!

To begin with, the promotional materials didn’t sell me on him. Everything about how he initially presents—from his arrogance to his “tough/bad boy” design (seriously, that biker-cowboy combo of his dorm uniform is SO ugly and shows way too much skin for my liking…)—was so unappealing to me. He seemed exactly like the kind of character and tropes I tend to dislike. The only “good” thing I saw in him was his face (which, ironically, is what Vil says about him) and maybe his UM chant particularly the line where he demands you kneel before him. Then comes along book 2, which is easily the weakest of the main story and does a HUGE disservice to him, making L*ona seem a lot stupider than he actually is. At that point, I had basically written his entire character off. I claimed to all my Twst friends that there was nothing that would ever make me like him.

Around 2022, I decided to get involved in a round of EBG (Epic Bias Game) which is basically like a test of your will?? You’re supposed to compete with your friends to see who can go for the longest without talking about or acknowledging their oshi (which includes not being able to react to fan works of them). As part of EBG, each participant was randomly assigned a “new oshi” to replace the usual one AND GUESS WHAT, I GOT HANDED L*ONA BY THE WHEEL OF FATE 💀

One of my friends (who knew I hardcore hated him at the time) assured me that this would get me to change my mind. They even went out of their way to write a little story explaining how my OC was forced to spend more time with L*ona, which led me into writing interactions between them to build more of the lore. I managed to outlast the friend in EBG, but didn’t win the entire game. I came out of it not really feeling super different about L*ona, but I think forcing myself to write about him extensively helped me gain a little more perspective on his character. I still didn’t like him, but I at least appreciated his presence in the cast a little more.

AND THEN TWST HAD TO COME AND BASH ME OVER THE HEAD WITH L*ONA CONTENT… All the little vignettes and voice lines where other characters would talk about what a good leader he is (*glares at Epel, Jack, Ruggie, Savanaclaw mobs, etc.*), when he sarcastically claims to be a “delicate prince” or a “lost child”, those moments where he sasses others, times when he’s able to use his charisma and/or intelligence to pull ahead, rare instances when he whips out his royal manners, him respecting women… But I think the turning point for me had to have been book 6 OTL GOOD LORD, BOOK 6 FUCKED ME UP 😭 Him using his UM in a creative way to turn falling glass shards into harmless sand? And strategically turning himself in?? Willingly ceding control of the dorm to Ruggie??? Telling everyone about Styx’s lore???? AND THE BEEF HE HAD WITH JAMIL BUT STILL GIVING HIM WISDOM AND ADVICE… Sometimes I still tear up thinking about how L*ona says “You’re not like me,” to Jamil 😔 implying that part of the reason why L*ona guides others is because he has hope in their futures but not his own… (I’m still salty that EN messed up this line by changing it to “I’m not like you,” which makes him come off as way more arrogant 💦) Anyway, I blame book 6 for being the tipping point in my downward spiral 🌀 IT GOT WORSE IN BOOK 7 WHEN HE STARTED SHOWING HE'S MOTIVATED TO ACTUALLY GRADUATE AND TAKES ON AN INTERNSHIP THAT COULD BENEFIT HIS COUNTRY... Special shoutout to the Club Wear card for being especially hot-- I did my best to hold out against the steady drip of content that called attention to his… positive traits… (Not that I’m saying he doesn’t have any; I mean this in that whenever his strengths as a character are brought up, they really get to me as someone who loves intelligent, mature/responsible types and “big brother” figures OTL) BUT IT'S SO HARD WHEN TWST KEEPS PULLING STUFF LIKE THAT???

Then in 2024 came the stupid Lost in the Book with Nightmare Before Christmas event 💀 which finally introduced us to L*ona in full formal attire (MY WEAKNESS) and gave him the opportunity to be in the role of the "hero" and leader... and those Nightmare Suit vignettes 😭 Leona thinking about what it actually means to be "king"... Ugh, it was another strong showing of his character. I'm pretty sure it was this event that started the snowball of my friends (lovingly) bullying me about him and calling me a tsundere about it. Weirdly enough, a BUNCH of things started happening irl to push L*ona at me too. For example, my pet (who usually actively avoids or attacks Twst stuff) was actually eager to pose for a picture with a L*ona standee. In a group fan merch order, I had asked for the bonus Grim sticker but the artist (who had no idea about my complicated thoughts on L*ona) said they were out of the Grim sticker but they had L*ona stickers they could include instead. Most recently, I had just finished this last-minute artwork of Miss Raven eating pocky by herself to celebrate Pocky Day (11/11). Typically the fan art you'd see on this day would involve two characters playing the "Pocky Game" (in which the players try to eat a stick of pocky from either end; usually it's framed as romantic since meeting in the middle results in a kiss). However, I had chosen to do a solo Miss Raven art because I thought this suited her "I want to be taken seriously!" personality better. Well, guess what? I GOT A PACKAGE DELIVERY NOTIFICATION FOR THE TWST MERCH ORDER... WITH L*ONA IN IT 💀 Almost like he heard there was food meant for sharing and he came to claim it for himself... Like I literally did NOT choose for these things to happen to me, THEY HAPPENED ON THEIR OWN. I DON'T BELIEVE IN PREORDAINED EVENTS BUT THE UNIVERSE SURE IS WORKING IN STRANGE WAYS.

So now that the tables have turned, it’s really embarrassing. Everything is coming back to bite me in the butt… It truly feels like L*ona plotted this all along and was on the prowl, patiently waiting for me to get worn down before he pounces and delivers the final blow to my ego OTL Like, it's gotten to the point where many of my long-time friends in the Twst community are now joking that "It's over" for J word... ONE OF THEM EVEN TOLD ME IT FEELS LIKE I'M GETTING DIVORCED AND L*ONA IS THEIR NEW STEPDAD, HOW AM I SUPPSOED TO FEEL ABOUT HTHAT ??????????? ? ? ????? ? ??? ? ?? ?? ? ???? ?

But by the far the worst, the WORST part about everything here is that if L*ona were fully sentient, he would be so smug about recent developments 😡 It makes me SO mad thinking about how he'd look down on me with that hot smug rage-inducing smirk of his and make fun of me for eating my words so badly.

“What was that you said about hating my guts, herbivore? … Hah, it's written all over your face--you're terrible at hiding your true feelings. You can just give in, you know. Tell me how much you worship me. How much you want me. You'll give in eventually one way or another--so why not make this easier for the both of us and save us the time of playing the wait game? I don't bite, promise." (<- a liar)

(Disclaimer: NOT MY MERCH; this is a L*ona Liker friend’s picture that they’re letting me use as a reaction image 😅)

THIS IS FR MY OVERBLOT ORIGIN STORY…

[lara4eclipze]

“Our Spot?”

— ( ⛽ ) “meet me at our spot ” sent 11:48 pm

— ( 🚏 ) fluff , kissing , established relationship, lovey dovey , car rides , swearing , etc

— ( 🌃 ) this has been collecting dust in my drafts , I think if I remember it correctly this was a request by 🫢 anon

the loudness has calmed down , shops closing down and people going home — it was finally night time those who were out are either going to clubs or just wants to explore the place silently

it became a tradition for you and daniela to call each other every night , her overwhelming schedule always results in her being drained and you were her safe haven

overtime the usual call turned into you two meeting in casual spots like the convenience store , the park or even in her studio — yet it didn't feel right , you always felt like you never truly had the time with daniela , the peace and quiet where you both can only hear the beat of your hearts

your phone rings , assuming it was daniela you answered, it wasn't weird for her to call in the crack of dawn to be honest you were used to it

"hi dani how are you?" you ask , your voice was groggy and a yawn slips past your lips as you talk

"I'm good , can I pick you up by 30? , i wanna show you something" daniela explains , she sounded happy and very tired

"hmh- yeah , ill wait for you" you reply stretching out your arms and blinking to adjust your eyes to the light

"okay get ready!" daniela says before hanging up

standing up you wince at how cold the floor is , making your way to your bathroom you brush your teeth and wash your face , throwing on some random sweater and walking to your door

y/n: I'm outside now :)

danii: okay I'm omw!

you sigh putting your hands in your pockets as you wear your headphones, tonight was particularly cold , the winds were way harsher today

"my lips your lips—apocalypse" you mouth out the lyrics , as you see a familiar m3 pulling up you smile warmly

"hii!!" dani quietly screams running up to you with surprising energy , she hugs you and you reciprocate it hugging her back and greeting her too

"soo what were you gonna show me?" you ask intrigued onto what she was talking about earlier

"ill show you just follow me" daniela replies , holding your hands and leading you to her car , as you both sat down she revs it up and drives , fast enough but not too fast to the point of disturbing your train of thoughts

"how was work?" you ask , you still to this day couldn't believe that she was part of katseye yet she is

"you know , practice , eat , sleep" the blonde replies , her hands steering the wheel , she chuckles after

the next few moments the drive was silent the only sound was your heavy breathing and occasional yawn— the car stops at some bridge it was secluded but had an amazing view of the city

"were here" dani says turning off the engine and walking out of the car , she sat at the hood soon to be joined by you

"it's beautiful" you say out of awe , silent and perfectly cold , you rest your head at her shoulders earning you a hum

"I really enjoy this , I never really get a break — when I'm with you I feel like all my worries are gone" daniela says , her voice softening and sounding sincere

"i really love you" she follows, her hands now on your cheeks as she places a kiss on your lips

the kiss was magical , it wasn't sexual but truly her way of showing her appreciation for you — it was perfect

"I love you too" you reply , now with a spot to go to every time it felt official it was officiall

this her spot , or should you say our spot

[clfixationstation]

all of this. yes.

my only thought is that because straight ships are seen as "normal", Isayama (and many other writers) assume that audiences require less convincing to get behind them and find them believable. Which isn't entirely untrue - there are many m/f ships out there that I've seen straight fans get behind with the bare minimum (from people I've talked to in-person, not just online speculation).

the next assumption writers could be making is that straight couples don't require a high level of understanding and companionship. From my observations, it's unfortunately the case that it's not always expected in straight relationships what do you mean your boyfriend doesn't think you should have rights?? doesn't see you as a full person?? and you still want to marry him???!? girl RUN. It's often (subconsciously) based on the bioessentialist idea that men and women are very different beings with different roles to fulfill, and therefore can never fully understand each other (ugh).

that's why "our worldviews directly conflict and we can't fully understand each other, but we're still drawn together by love and that in itself is an understanding" just isn't compelling to me personally. I've seen it with many canon straight ships in many stories over the years. (to be clear, I am not accusing people who enjoy such ships of being bioessentialist - I do not know the mind of every person)

and then there's yumihisu. Ymir was immediately drawn to Historia because she saw her past self in her, and was determined to empower Historia to live for herself with pride. After a lonely childhood, Historia welcomed Ymir's company and understood that Ymir's abrasive comments betrayed her good heart. Even with the secrets between them, Ymir and Historia had this deep understanding of each other and offered each other compassion and companionship.

and for some of the other ships mentioned in the tags:

1) I didn't pay much attention to reibert, but wdym reiner "having no interest in women" went nowhere?? like?? and Bertholdt liking Annie out of nowhere was kinda funny. 2) kenuri is kind of just. uncontested canon. 3) I never expected eremin to be canon, but the level of understanding and reverence they hold for each other is unparalleled. 4) I actually love aruani, and that's primarily because their relationship is based in understanding and appreciating each other's perspectives; seeing positive qualities in each other that others could not. It could've used more time to cook, but that's my only criticism

#like why did eremin parallel yumihisu and reibert. while eremika was CANONICALLY framed as a parallel to the most toxic horrific relationship

THIS TAG. This is the one that gets me. eremika paralleled Ymir and King Fritz; Mikasa's love bound her to Eren the same way Ymir's love bound her to Fritz. However, Mikasa was able to free herself from the bindings of her love and act for the greater good. By killing Eren, Mikasa freed herself and Ymir. Acting despite all the love she has for Eren, refusing to allow her love to keep her bound - that is what frees Ymir

now, obviously Eren did not treat Mikasa anywhere as badly as Fritz did Ymir. Eren being an ass is NOT equivalent to Fritz's abuse. It's just. That parallel does not indicate to me that eremika is, or could be, a positive relationship. Conversely, I think some people interpret it as eremika's pure and good love showing Ymir what love should be like, in contrast to her relationship to Fritz. While that's a sweet interpretation, I have a difficult time agreeing. Mikasa spent the entire series chasing after Eren, desperately trying to keep her last piece of family alive, living in a perpetual heartache. Eren, on the other hand, hid and stifled his feelings for Mikasa until the end. Where Mikasa always desires to return home, Eren will always run forward towards "freedom". To me, the point of eremika is that it's doomed. It represents the beauty and cruelty that exist simultaneously in the world. While they had love for each other, their relationship was layered in pain all the way through

uhhh I got off-track.

tldr: I hypothesize that m/f ships require less "evidence" to be convincing to audiences because they are the norm. As a result, many m/f ships are written more shallowly than f/f or m/m relationships, whether written as lovers or friends.

why did isayama put his whole pussy into yumihisu after saying he can’t write romance. and then fumble when it came to the straights.

[deiastormborn]

Gale of Waterdeep; A much needed look beneath the surface 

Hey all. This is a script for the video I made in defense of Gale. I never had a place to put the text version of it anywhere else, but... if Tumblr isn't a good place for it, then what is?

Warning: Long Read!

________________________

Hi, my name is Stormborn. I’ve been playing Baldur’s Gate for some time, enjoyed it quite a bit. As much as I can appreciate every companion that the game has introduced, Gale of Waterdeep, a charming lil’ wizard, has caught my attention the most. At glance, he is this sarcastic happy-to-go man, always joking around, trying to do the right thing. But, the more you get to know him, the more you slowly uncover his trauma, as much as he, himself, is trying to deny it.

Honestly, I thought that Gale would be liked by many people, I genuinely expected him to be one of the most chosen companions, and one of the most romanced ones. But, to my surprise, I’ve been seeing him getting more hate than I anticipated. Some people call his way of speaking way too annoying and complicated, some people call him clingy and creepy, mostly due to the glitch that would skyrocket his approval of you, probing him to romance you. Genuinely, it is okay to dislike some companion in favor of the other one. But I could not get rid of the feeling that people just despise his guts unjustifiably. 

One of the main reasons, besides the ones I covered earlier, is that people hate his ‘obsession’ with Mystra, the goddess of magic he happened to romance. I saw people complain that he just cannot stop talking about her, even while you romance him, and I can’t help but wonder if people were paying attention to his story at all. And I cannot blame them, as Gale always portrays his romance with Mystra as something so special, so unique, and as something to be proud of. But, let me explain to why you should be able to judge his story for yourself, rather than simply listen to what he is saying.

Gale is a talented wizard, so talented that he got attention from Mystra herself for his talent of channeling the weave. The story says that he is so powerful, that he could potentially destroy a whole village by basically sneezing in its direction. However, we all need to remember that he got attention from Mystra at the very, very young age. If I am not mistaken, the first time Mystra clawed onto him was when he turned 16. Ever since then, Mystra was feeding him all kinds of praise, prompting him to seek power, ensuring him that he can become Mystra’s chosen, and, mind you, *started romancing him ever since*. It is not a secret that Gale was not the first, however, if you really think of it, such revelation can seriously mess with a mind of a teenager. Not only it might boost the self-esteem, but also make him think that he is better than anyone else. And, I assure you, it is exactly what Mystra wanted. By giving him some form of attention, minimum affection, she had Gale on the hook. And Gale, as a boy obsessed with magic, who has been worshiping Mystra before he even met her, didn’t require much effort in getting hooked. But here comes the problem: as much as it is uplifting to get a praise from a literal Goddess of all magic, it is also as equally devastating to get any kind of critique or a cold shoulder.

Mystra was messing with his mind, making him feel like, no matter how well he does, he can always do better, as he has so much potential. With such authority, Gale would believe her. And it would make him always chase something more to impress her, rather than settle and appreciate what he has. It is also a reason to why the whole mess with the Orb began in the first place. People seem to call Gale power hungry, which, as any companion in the game, it is possible for him to go down that route. But they seem to forget one important detail: Gale thought that the Orb was a missing relic of Mystra’s magic, and he wanted to, yet again, impress her by bringing it back. Please remember that Gale was still a young adult, if not a teenager, when this happened. And it would all be resolved if Mystra would not shatter his self-esteem as much as she did. So, he made a mistake, and the Orb became his burden. And yet again, rather than explain this to her ‘chosen one’, she basically banished him, and left him with no answers for many years to come.

Gale isolated himself to keep people around him safe, with nothing but the books and the cat for the company. I think I do not need to mention on how that can play with your mind, too. But, in spite of all, Gale’s blind loyalty and obsession with Mystra kept him wanting for more attention, more answers, so he kept seeking more power, and more ways to get Mystra’s approval. At the day you first meet him, this is the first time he has been amongst people. Yet he still kept his jolly appearance, messing around with Tav, and appreciating everything that surrounds him.

I do not know if this is obvious just yet, but Mystra has basically groomed the kid. If we look at the very definition of grooming, Grooming is when someone builds a relationship, trust and emotional connection with a child or young person so they can manipulate, exploit and abuse them. And it is most prominent when it comes from the place of higher authority. I think I do not need to explain that, in the fantasy setting, there is no higher authority than the God or a Goddess. Yet, for one reason or another, this seems to not be taken serious. And I think I have an explanation as to why.

When you talk to Gale about Mystra, or when you let him talk about her first, he is still full of admiration, obsession, and the unending pride. There is still some bitterness lingering somewhere in him, yet it Is not as powerful as any other feeling he has towards her. I’ve noticed people basically hating him for saying something like ‘Yeah, I banged Mystra, that’s pretty cool, right?’. But think of it this way: wouldn’t Mystra *want* him to think that it’s ‘pretty cool’? And who are we to say that it was the real Mystra he had an intimate moment with? For all we know, she might have conjured an illusion, to satisfy him and feed into his ego. If the romance between them was as real as Gale thinks it was, do you really think Mystra would just abandon him with no answers for a mistake such as this? After all, Gale was young, and had barely any experience. All he had was wizards, such as him, or more powerful than him, and her. If she truly cared about putting him to a right path, rather than using him for her needs, the outcome would be ever so different. 

I would also like to address that people do not think of it as a simple coping mechanism. Even if you look at the society these days, most of the time, when a man comes with a confession of, say, a woman taking advantage of him, it is often met with ‘wow dude, you got lucky’, rather than with a serious concern. Who are we to say that Gale, rather than simply try to reflect and recognize his relationship with Mystra as an illusion, didn’t just decide to get along with it and be proud instead? Even then, when you romance him further, he is slowly realizing that it was not as real as he once thought. In Gale’s own words: ‘there is no love between us. I was not the first, and I certainly won’t be the last’. Gale finally, ever so slowly, starts to understand that he was simply used by Mystra for his talent. Being a deity means that you are only powered by the followers you still have. It is in the god’s interests to keep people interested in them, or they will loose power. Using Gale, knowing he was an extremely skillful wizard, was in Mystra’s interests. She does not give him answers, but keeps him interested in her enough to keep him in her claws, spreading more words of her, attracting more people to follow her godhood. There was no real romance, she was interested in his power more than himself. And you can help him realize that.

But, with such dynamic comes a price, which also becomes more prominent when you play the game further: Gale never feels good enough. With the first chance he can sacrifice himself for a greater good, he takes it. He has no real appreciation of his life, he does not take it as something valuable. He is deeply depressed and traumatized. When a person moves away from the environment that scarred them, it can become extremely overbearing, difficult, and overwhelming. People also seem to act as if it is weird that, with any kind of hurt, Gale’s first reaction is to ‘blow himself up’. It doesn’t take much to know that he won’t do it if it were to mean that someone can get hurt, but he is saying that because, maybe, partially, he *wanted* to die. He has finally found appreciation amongst other people, who are not wizards like him, people who do not know him well, and people who do not want him to constantly be the best version of himself. He falls in love with Tav, because Tav is showing him kindness, and proving to him that he does not have to be someone that he is not to be loved. In that very vulnerable state, any kind of hurt or rejection hits you more. Not to mention that, the only time he ever says it, was after the night he spent with you. After he opened up, shared his fears, more of his past, even said out loud that, in truth, he does not want to die. He let himself be vulnerable, the most vulnerable he has probably been in years, so it is not a question of his ego being hurt: it is a situation where a man, who always kept to himself, has finally let someone in, and got hurt. I am sure one of us, at one point in life, said something like ‘well guess I go die’ as a joke. This is the only way Gale knows how to respond: joking about his pain. He does not mean it, but says it anyway, because it is the first thing that came to his mind. He has been a very reserved companion through the whole time, always seemed to know what to say, and he acted on an emotion after a very emotional night. 

It is also a fact that, even while he is slowly realizing that Mystra used him, he does not mind dying because she asked him to do so. That does not only prove a point that Mystra does not have any real regards to him other than a tool, but also that she was using him for her own sake. With The Absolute getting more followers, her power also weakens. The Absolute is a threat, not only because of the infection and danger to mere humans, but also to her godhood. And who better to deal with it than the man she has so methodically conditioned to do as she wishes? You would think that, a goddess as powerful as Mystra, could try to take care of things on her own. And yet again, the only time Mystra ever gives him any answers, is when she needs him to be used. That is, yet again, a definition of the grooming.

Gale will do anything for a little bit of appreciation, anything to be noticed, and we cannot blame him. This is why you, a player, as a Tav, have a power in you to make him realize that he, as he is now, is valid. It is almost as if Gale forgot that he is such a talented wizard after all the stuff with Mystra. You, as a player, have it in you to remind him. And once you do, Gale slowly separated himself from Mystra as her ex-lover, and only answers to her as his deity. After all, she is a goddess of all magic, it will be hard to reject her entirely.

Victims of grooming or any kind of abuse often can’t let go of the person who harmed them. They will talk about them, they will mention them, they might even try to grasp onto good things, or make it seem like bad things that happened weren’t really all that bad. Combine that with a constant feeling of never being good enough, and not knowing a genuine kindness outside of his very small circle, and you have Gale. A charming, sarcastic, jolly Wizard, who is also as ever troubled. 

Moving on to other topic that people seem to judge Gale for, is that, once a chance arrives, he starts grasping onto Godhood, wishing to become a God himself. It is also in that situation where he starts to say that he would have the power to completely overthrow Mystra. People seem to criticize him for his hunger for power, and also, altogether, call him ungrateful. I would like to add another opinion on that: while Gale is slowly realizing that he was being used, he went through all 5 stages of grief. But here comes the other one, that is mentioned much less: revenge. He wants to show Mystra that she was wrong about him. He wants to prove to her that, after all this time, he *was* good, if not better than her. On top of that, he is still trying to fix his never-ending self-esteem issues. While he is seeking godhood, he still thinks that, him, as he is now, will never be enough, and only by becoming God he can truly become worthy… of anything. If you romance him, he later apologizes to you, but also asks to let him explain to why the Godhood would be good for him, and you, as a couple. Gale wants to give you everything. The entire world. He wants to be the very best version of himself, for you, his lover. He thinks that he can only achieve that by becoming a God. He doesn’t realize that, maybe, without it, he can still be a valuable partner. He even talks to you about it, openly, saying that you deserve better. It is, yet again, in your power to remind him that you do not need him to be anything more than he is now. And, rather than with anger, he answers to you with a surprise. He truly, genuinely, can’t believe that you would take him as he is now. This is how deeply his trauma runs in his mind. And, once he finally believes you, this is where he finally calms down. This is finally when he accepts himself, and lets it all go. He is not repaired, but he is on his path towards healing. All because you, a player, convinced him, and reminded him of his value.

I think Gale’s approach towards things have deeply changed the perception of the players. Because he is in so much denial, people seem to just go along with what he says. He is proud of sleeping with Mystra - so people take it for what it is. Gale might not be your type, or even the most interesting companion to you compared to others, but I truly, genuinely think, that the hate he has received has been a little too much. Every companion has a burden, everyone expresses it differently, on their own pace. Gale has chosen the approach that makes the most sense in his situation. He is just a guy who was thrown into a mess made by the Goddess he worshiped at the young age. He is just someone who is trying to do good. And I hope that a small essay such as this helped and shed some light on his story. 

Men can be groomed, they can be taken advantage of. I think it is our duty to also recognize it, and show a little patience. After all, Gale is not the first example of such abuse. And, sadly, won’t be the last.

Video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HAnZHJtYkcg

[youredyingthatsallthereis]

"bug? you still there?"

roach jolted awake, nodding before he remembered ghost couldn't see him. "mhm," he hummed, hoping the affirmative was loud enough that ghost would hear.

"thought i lost ya there for a second," ghost teased. "gettin' sleepy on me again?"

just a little, but im fine, roach typed into their chat.

"hm," ghost mused into his mic. roach blinked and refocused on the stream; ghost was playing stardew valley for him again. they were quiet for a moment as ghost made quick work of harvesting some rice and jogging over to the barn his livestock were in. "if you're tired i can just cut it here, its not a big deal."

no no no, its fine! roach typed quickly. i like listening to you talk.

it was far from the first time he'd said it, but every time he said it now it felt...heavier, somehow. like there was more...something in it.

it had been a few months of this; they took turns streaming games for each other as a way to chat and hang out and over the course of their time doing it roach had found himself feeling more and more...something for ghost. he'd never had such a strong feeling about anyone before, nothing even close; he'd never felt so happy and calm and content to just listen to someone before.

ghosts accent was unique to his american ears, something he wasnt used to but that he enjoyed enormously. something lilting and calm and just distinctly ghost that made him smile every time the call connected and ghost said "hey bug." the gentle inflection, the sweet nickname, all of it just very...as much as roach felt flutters in his stomach admitting it (even in his own mind), it was just theirs.

presently ghost chuckled at the freely given compliment. "i love that you like to listen to me."

they always did it like this; a voice call for roach to listen to ghost when he streamed, and a video stream with chat when roach played survival horror for ghost. roach relied on sign and expressions/body language to convey his moods/reactions, and while ghost was still trying to pick up on some of the ASL roach frequently used (like 'why' and 'do not want') he hoped that ghost appreciated being able to see him.

ghost had told him early on that video calls made him feel a little awkward and that's why he just preferred voice, and even though he couldn't talk back roach was happy to do it this way. their way. more than anything he wanted ghost to feel comfortable and was ever grateful that he got to listen to him at all.

he smiled and cuddled his blåhaj closer, propping himself up against the wall behind his bed to try and stay awake. something about listening to ghost narrate what he was doing while he walked around his farm or the caves or even just stood and fished, wanting to get every single type of fish possible, made him feel so content and calm and frankly, safe. he felt embarrassed to even have the thought, but sometimes when he closed his eyes while ghost was talking he wondered if that was what it would feel like to have ghost really sitting next to him, talking to him close while he played maybe on a switch or on his laptop. he wondered if ghost would want them to sit close enough to be touching softly, maybe their legs pressed up against each otherwhile roach sleepily enjoyed his narrations.

"do you think i should bother with more chickens? or maybe more ducks? i like having the extra mayo for sale," ghost was musing out loud.

"hmmm," roach hummed thoughtfully. i'd go for a few more ducks as long as the hay to feed them isnt too expensive, he typed into their chat. they're cute and i love how you named them all after sanrio characters. you could call the next one tuxedo sam.

"true, kuromi the void duck was the last one i got, and that was a while ago," ghost considered. "and that big blue penguin is damn cute."

roach smiled. he loved ghost's fixation on sanrio characters, finding it as endearing as he was realizing he found just about everything else about ghost.

"are you sure you're not too tired?" ghost asked one more time. "its almost the end of the in game day and my save isn't going anywhere."

roach bit his lip. one more day? he asked. then i should probably go to sleep; its almost 1am here.

ghost chuckled over the call. "alright," he agreed. "one more day."

[gremlinmodetweeker]

Mine friendo, one, I dunno why it reblogged three times and I do not take any of that back, and two, I need your take on a Nikto kitter cause I wanna, with permission, write a piece with your au 🙏 if it's okay

Okay so, I had to wait until I got home for this but PLEASE IT'S OKAY TO WRITE FOR THIS OH MY GOSH PLEASE DO. All I ask is a tag as credit please. I mean, it's not really my au, it's just appreciated. It's not necessary. What is necessary is tagging me so I can read it! I want to read this!!!

TW: mentions of torture, violence, recovering from grievous wounds

However, your other part of your ask might lead to a bit of a tragedy. See, when Kortac created their task force of cat hybrids, they were trying to use the parts of cats that make perfect hunters to make their soldiers. Silent, fast, agile, strong, excellent eyesight under low light conditions, enhanced smell and hearing, capable of mimicry, able to endure hot and cold environments. Above all, they were to be loyal. So, they used the domestic cat to keep their soldiers domesticated enough to keep them under their thumb.

Nikto was among the first used. He was the first successful prototype. He was perfect! He was loved for his skills as a soldier, and he was loved as being an affectionate domesticated cat. Nikto was adored.

Unfortunately, KorTac had funding cuts and all the perfect soldiers they made had two choices: be let free, or be euthanized. The head of the lab was a soft-hearted man, and he insisted that the cats were to be set free. When the order went through that the cats were to be euthanized regardless, he panicked and smuggled the cats out to a city where he let them free. He begged them to forgive him as he let them go.

The cats all gathered together to face the harshness of city life. Not all of them made it, but most managed. They were homeless cats, homeless humans. They were lost and scared, but they persevered.

Eventually, some of the cats started to get adopted. Nikto watched as his brothers and sisters in arms managed to find places to stay and hide in their cat forms. He saw how wonderfully things worked out for them. Surely, he could find a happy home too, right?

So Nikto let himself be adopted by someone. He was picked up by a teenager with his friend and brought back to a shed. There, Nikto was forced to endure the worst of human behaviour.

The teens learned of a way to make money online. A strange way, but an easy way. It made good money, so they heard. It was easy, as long as you could do it.

Nikto was tortured for hours and hours in that shed. Being a stray for so long, he was too hungry and weak to be able to shift and defend himself. Instead, he was forced to endure horrors I hate to repeat.

When the teens figured that Nikto was dead, they put him in a can and kicked it over into a puddle of some leftover household acid, remains of what they'd used on him previous. Too weak to move, Nikto accepted his fate and closed his eyes.

He was woken up later by an animal trying to nibble at him. Parts of his body fell off as he heaved himself out of the puddle. He felt himself shake, he thought this was the end. But, he needed to warn the others. He couldn't let them suffer a fate like this.

Nikto hauled himself through the streets. He pushed through back alleys to get back to the city, and back to where his squad mates lived. When he arrived back, they did their best to care for him, but they didn't think Nikto would make it through the night.

But he did.

Nikto lived the next day, and then the next day, then the next and then the next day. Every day he lived was a miracle. Hutch, Roze and Askel poured their heart and souls into Nikto, and too their amazement, Nikto began to recover.

His skin started to grow back, his eyes fluttered open. His breathign relaxed, he started to talk.

And talk he did! He told them all about the humans. He warned them all. He made them all swear to protect themselves, to never let themselves fall into the wrong hands again. He made them swear to be strong, to always be healthy enough to shift into human forms. They promised, and they followed his word.

To this day, Nikto feels his heart drop when he hears someone has been adopted. He's made an initiative where each time one of their kin are adopted, another will follow them home to ensure they go to a safe home. They always make sure.

Nikto is still afraid of humans. It doesn't help that nobody really wants to adopt a cat like him... He's covered in scars now, scars that transfer to his human form. Despite how horrible he looks in his cat form, he'll stay in that form to avoid showing his human face. He's never forgotten the fear he felt when he saw his own eye staring back at him from within a fleshy socket, surrounded by redness and folds of scar tissue. He won't ever let anyone see his human face again, he swears by this.

Sometimes, someone will be foolish enough to ask Nikto if he'd consider trying to get adopted again. Nikto never says anything. He never has to. The way the whole room goes silent speaks volumes.

When he leaves them to stew in their own pity and misery, he'll think about what they said. He'll consider their words. A part of him wants to be adopted. He wants a warm, happy home. One like back at KorTac. He's been told KorTac was horrible, but when he was in the cage he had a roof over his head and three meals a day. He didn't go hungry, he didn't shiver at night. He was always safe.

Nikto, despite it all, still wants a home. Is he ready yet to find a human to trust? He doesn't know. He doesn't think he'll ever be ready, but he reminds himself that nobody is ever ready for change. It just happens. One day, a human will find him and love him for who he is, he holds onto that hope dearly.

Here's a quick ref of Nikto for you guys at home. Sadly, he can't really wear a mask in cat form, but at least he has a mask in human form. Still, despite how rough he looks, he still prefers living as a scarred cat than having to face his human form in the mirror again.

Oh, and as for the video? The one those teens made to make hundreds of thousands of dollars? The one that would make them filthy rich?

It made $97 USD.

[soleillunne]

— To everyone I've had the pleasure of meeting here,

I just want to take a moment to say thank you, truly, from the bottom of my heart. You’ve each been there in different ways, each of you bringing something unique and special into my life. Whether it’s a quick message that brightens my day, the way you listen and support me when things are rough, or the laughter we share that somehow makes everything a little easier—I’m so grateful for all of it, and for each of you.

You’ve all been a part of my life’s ups and downs, and I honestly can’t imagine getting through it all without your presence and support. Some of you have been there from the very beginning, steady and constant, while others have entered my life more recently, bringing new warmth and joy. Each one of you has touched my life in ways I can’t fully express, and I hope you know how deeply I value and appreciate you.

Thank you for being there, for being yourselves, and for allowing me to share a part of this journey with you. Whether we talk every day or just every so often, you mean more to me than words can say. Your kindness, patience, humor, and loyalty mean the world to me, and I’m so incredibly lucky to know you all.

Here’s to every laugh, every shared thought, every moment of support, and every memory we’ve made together. I’m beyond grateful, and I look forward to making even more memories with each of you. Thank you for being you—there’s truly no one else like you, and I’m so lucky to call you my friends.

With all my love and gratitude, always.

-Aly.

@starrveill :

Fawn,

Every conversation with you feels like stepping into a warm embrace—a burst of sunlight that seems to reach into even the cloudiest corners of my day. You have this incredible way of making everything feel lighter, brighter, and somehow more alive. I honestly can’t remember a single dull moment with you; every time we talk, it’s like a spark that adds so much more color and joy to life. You bring an energy that’s so rare and beautiful, and I’m so grateful for it.

Talking to you reminds me again and again just how special you are. There’s this light within you, something deeply genuine, and it’s impossible not to feel its warmth. I could spend hours with you, listening, laughing, sharing stories, and it would never be enough—I’d never tire of it because being around you is like breathing fresh air after being cooped up indoors for ages.

I love you in a way that’s beyond words, more deeply than anything I could ever fully express. If I could, I would take away every single one of your worries, anything that ever brings you down, just to see you at peace and filled with happiness. You deserve nothing less than boundless joy, endless laughter, and all the good things that life has to offer. And please know that, if there’s ever a way for me to make even a sliver of that come true, I’ll be here, always. You’re worth the world and so much more, and I’d do anything to see you smile.

@umgatochamadopercyval :

Clara,

Thank you so much for being such a steady presence in my life, even when we don’t talk as often as I’d like. I know I’m not always the easiest to keep up with, but you somehow manage to be patient and understanding in ways that mean so much to me.

Even in the times we’re apart, I always know I can count on you, and it’s such a comforting feeling. You put up with my quirks, my silences, and my scattered attempts to stay in touch, and I’m genuinely grateful for that. You’re one of those rare people who makes life feel a little easier, even from a distance. Thank you for being you, and for being there, no matter what.

@romaritimeharbor :

Aph,

Thank you so, so much for always listening to my silly ideas and endless rambles, for letting me share my thoughts and dreams with you, and for being so wonderfully patient through it all. It means the world to have someone as understanding as you, who genuinely listens and never makes me feel like I’m saying too much or being too much. You’re not only kind beyond measure, but you’re also such a genuinely amazing person in every single way—someone whose warmth, humor, and openness create this space where I can be completely myself.

Every time I see you on my dash, it’s like a little burst of joy, something that brightens my day without fail. You have this incredible way of bringing extra sunshine into everything you do, and it makes such a difference. Just knowing that someone as kind and wonderful as you is out there brings me so much comfort and happiness. You’re truly one of a kind, someone whose presence is a gift, and I’m so so grateful for you.

And on top of everything, you’re one of the most talented, creative people I know. The things you create are filled with this unique spark that only you could bring to them, and it’s inspiring to see. I hope you never lose that light, that beautiful spark in you that brings so much magic to your work and to everyone around you. Thank you for being you—for all the ways you make life a little bit better.

@kopivie :

Cinna,

You are absolutely amazing, and I mean that with everything in me. It’s hard to find the right words to capture just how much you mean to me, but I’ll try. You have this rare, incredible kindness and warmth that the world honestly doesn’t deserve. You give so much of yourself to others—more than most people will ever know—and you do it with such quiet grace, as though it’s just the most natural thing in the world. Even when life throws challenges your way, you somehow keep shining through it all, and it’s nothing short of inspiring.

It breaks my heart that the world hasn’t been nearly as kind to you as it should be. You deserve so much more—more happiness, more peace, more of the love and care you so freely give. The fact that you’ve had to face so much is a damn shame, because if anyone deserves the entire world, it’s you. The strength you have to keep going, to keep being this light for others, is something I admire deeply. And when things get tough, I just want you to know that I’ll be here, ready to tell the world to fuck off whenever it tries to dim your light.

Thank you for sticking with me through everything, for being such a constant, loyal friend. You’ve been there for me in ways I can’t even begin to describe, and that kind of friendship is something so rare and precious. Your presence in my life means more than I can say, and I’m beyond grateful to have you. You’re one in a million, a friend that anyone would be lucky to have, and I want you to know that I’ll always be here for you, just as you’ve always been there for me.

You mean the world to me, and I hope you always remember how loved and appreciated you are.

@papiliotao :

Rei,

Even though we haven’t talked as much lately, you’re still so dear to me, more than words can capture. I honestly think of you as a sister—you have this warm, calming aura that just makes me feel safe, like everything’s going to be okay. Knowing you’re out there, even if we’re not talking every day, brings me so much comfort.

You’re so kind, and I can never be thankful enough for everything you’ve given just by being you. Thank you for being such a light in my life. You mean the world to me, and I hope you know that.

@kazumist :

Aki,

It’s been so long since we last talked, but I still think about how kind, funny, and incredibly talented you are. You’re honestly one of the sweetest people I know, and every memory of talking with you brings such a smile to my face. You have this amazing way of lighting up conversations and making people feel genuinely good.

I really hope we get the chance to talk more sometime, if we can both find the time! It would be amazing to catch up, and I just know it’d be just as fun and heartwarming as always.

@yaminohimeyume :

Yume,

We haven’t had the chance to talk as much lately, but I just want you to know how much you mean to me. You are, without a doubt, one of the sweetest people I’ve ever met, and the kindness you’ve shown me is something I’ll always cherish. Even in the smallest interactions, you have this way of making me feel understood, valued, and supported, and I can’t express how deeply that touches me. I hope you realize just how special you are and how much I genuinely appreciate every little thing you’ve done.

Thank you for being such a wonderful presence in my life—a constant source of warmth and light. Your kindness and sweetness are rare and beautiful, and I’m beyond grateful to have had even a small part of it.

@nordicbananas :

Shroom,

Thank you, truly, for being there for me in every way that matters, for standing by my side and offering your support, from the very beginning. Your kindness and warmth have been such an incredible gift, something I genuinely cherish and hold close to my heart. You've always been a constant source of comfort and encouragement, bringing light into even the darkest days, and I can’t tell you how much that means to me.

I feel so incredibly lucky to have someone like you in my life—someone who’s as caring, genuine, and thoughtful as you are. You’re one of the sweetest, most understanding people I know, and the way you’ve shown up for me time and time again is something I’ll never take for granted. You have this amazing ability to lift me up just when I need it most, and your presence has been a true blessing that I don’t think I could ever thank you enough for.

Your friendship means more to me than words could ever capture. Thank you for being there, for every conversation, every laugh, every moment of support. Having you in my life has been one of the greatest gifts, and I’m so so grateful for all the ways you’ve shown me your kindness.

@lexisism :

Alexis,

I can’t put into words just how much your kindness and warmth have impacted me. You’re one of the most genuinely compassionate people I know, and knowing you has made my life so much richer. Whether in moments of joy or times of challenge, you've always been there with an open heart and a gentle strength, supporting me through everything with such kindness and care. There are so many ways you've helped and encouraged me, and I don’t know what I would have done without you.

You’re also incredibly talented—everything you create shines with your unique touch, and it’s a privilege to witness the brilliance you bring to the world. Each piece of yours is a reminder of your creativity, your dedication, and just how extraordinary you are.

Talking to you, spending time with you—it lifts me up and reminds me of the beauty in simple moments. I feel so incredibly grateful to have someone like you in my life. Thank you for being such a radiant presence, for always showing me what it means to be truly kind, and for making the world feel like a brighter, better place.

@milk-violet :

Mirei,

You are honestly the sweetest person ever, and I mean that from the bottom of my heart. Talking to you is like a burst of sunshine—it feels effortless and fun, like the world just gets a little brighter whenever you’re around. You have this beautiful, bubbly energy that’s so contagious, and being around you always lifts my spirits in ways I didn’t even know I needed.

Every conversation we have, no matter the topic, is something I genuinely look forward to. You make everything so much more enjoyable, and I love that we can talk about anything and everything without missing a beat. You bring such a joy and warmth into my life, and I feel so lucky to know someone as incredible as you.

Thank you for being you, for every smile you bring, and for being such a wonderful presence in my life. You’re an absolute gem, and I’m beyond grateful for you.

@floraldresvi :

Vivi,

I don’t think I can express just how much you’ve meant to me this year. You’ve been one of the main reasons I could keep going, and I’m beyond grateful for all the kindness and support you’ve shown me. You’ve been so sweet and understanding, never once judging me—only ever encouraging me, lifting me up, and being there through everything. I truly don’t know what I would have done without you by my side.

You’re so, so talented, and it’s incredible to watch you shine. Seeing the things you create, and the way you put your heart into everything you do, is such an inspiration. And somehow, even on my roughest days, you have this magical way of cheering me up like no one else can. Just hearing from you makes everything feel a little easier, a little brighter.

Thank you for being the incredible person you are, for believing in me, and for being a constant source of light. I’m so grateful for you, and I hope you know just how much you mean to me.

@strxnged :

June,

You are honestly one of the kindest and most talented people I know. Every time we talk, I’m reminded of just how much I cherish our conversations. Even though we haven’t been able to talk as much over the past year, each conversation with you feels special, like I’m talking to someone who genuinely understands and cares. I can’t tell you how much that means to me.

Your talent never fails to amaze me. The way you approach things with such passion and creativity is inspiring, and I feel so lucky to witness even a glimpse of it. You’re one of those rare people with a warmth and openness that makes it so easy to talk to you about anything, and every moment shared feels like a gift.

Thank you for being the incredible person you are. You bring so much kindness and beauty into the world, and I’m grateful for every chance I get to know you better.

@meimeimeirin :

Meirin,

I don’t think I can fully put into words just how much you mean to me. You are, without a doubt, one of the kindest souls I know. Your kindness is something rare, and it shines through in every interaction we have. Even though we haven’t been able to talk as often as I’d like lately, I think about you so often, and I just want you to know how much you’re appreciated.

You have this sweetness that makes talking to you feel like a breath of fresh air after a hard day, like a reminder that there are truly good people in the world. And your talent—it's something I’m constantly in awe of. Everything you create seems to have a piece of your warmth and beauty in it, and it’s such a joy to witness.

Thank you for being such a positive, comforting presence in my life, even when we’re not always in touch. You make a difference, and I’m super grateful for every bit of kindness you’ve shown me. Just knowing you’re out there makes the world feel a little brighter.

@camvrin :

Oliver,

Where do I even start? Talking to you is like stepping into a whirlwind—in the best possible way. You’re so wonderfully chaotic, and that’s exactly what makes every conversation with you so much fun. I never know where we’ll end up or what twists the conversation will take, but that’s what makes it feel so refreshing. You keep things lively, spontaneous, and full of laughs, and I wouldn’t trade that for anything.

You’re not only hilarious, but you’re also genuinely one of the kindest, sweetest people I know. You’ve always been there for me, supporting me in ways that mean more than I can put into words. Somehow, no matter what kind of day I’m having, you always know how to lift my spirits and put a smile on my face.

Talking to you feels like one of those rare, easy connections where I can be myself completely, knowing I’ll always have someone who gets it. I could talk to you for hours on end about anything and everything, and it would never get old. Thank you for being such an incredible friend. You’re truly one of a kind, and I’m so lucky to know you.

@mlkbwunnies :

Ying,

I can’t say it enough—you are truly kindness personified. From the moment we met, you’ve been nothing but incredibly sweet, thoughtful, and supportive. You have this gentle, genuine warmth that’s so rare, and just knowing someone as kind as you makes the world feel a little brighter.

You’ve been there for me in ways I’ll never forget. Whether I needed advice, a kind word, or just someone who would listen, you’ve always been right there, ready to help. It’s the kind of support that sticks with you, and I’m forever grateful for it. I honestly feel so lucky to know you and to have had your friendship in my life.

You deserve the absolute best in this world, because that’s exactly the kind of goodness you bring to others. Thank you for being you, for every act of kindness, and for the countless ways you’ve been there for me. You’re a treasure, and I’m so grateful for you.

@thestarswhisper :

Zee,

You are one of the most talented and sweetest people I know, and I’m so grateful to have you in my life. You’ve been with me for so long, through thick and thin, and knowing you’re there has been such a comfort this past two years. Even though we haven’t had the chance to talk in a while, I think about you often and appreciate you more than words can say.

Your talent is something I’m constantly in awe of. You have this incredible way of bringing so much beauty and meaning into everything you do, and it’s inspiring just to see the amazing things you create. Beyond that, you’re genuinely one of the kindest people I know, and that kindness is something I treasure deeply.

Thank you for sticking by me all this time, for being such a wonderful friend, and for all the ways you’ve supported me. I’m so lucky to know someone as remarkable as you.

@glacialheart :

Mika,

It feels like forever since we last got to chat, and I’ve missed seeing you around. I know life has been super busy for you lately, and I just hope you’re taking care of yourself and finding moments to breathe. You deserve all the rest and peace in the world, and I’m really hoping things ease up soon so you can take a break.

You’re genuinely one of the sweetest people I know, and I don’t think you realize just how talented you are. Your creativity and kindness leave such an impact, and everything you do seems to carry this beautiful spark that’s so uniquely you. Thank you for all the times you’ve been there for me and for being such a steady source of warmth and support.

I hope the days ahead bring you a fresh start and all the happiness you deserve, because you truly mean so much to me. Sending all my love, and know I’m always here if you need anything.

@strryskys :

Avery,

I just have to say how much joy you bring into my life. You are genuinely one of the funniest, most talented people I know, and every time I see you on my dash, it feels like a little boost to my day. There’s something about your humor that’s so effortless—you know exactly how to make me laugh, and it’s such a gift. It’s like you have this natural way of bringing lightness and fun wherever you go, and I’m always so grateful for it.

Not only are you incredibly funny, but you’re also so talented. Every time you share your work, I’m blown away by the skill and creativity you pour into it. You’re one of those rare people who seems to have this spark of inspiration and creativity that just can’t be contained, and it’s amazing to see. I feel lucky every time I get to witness even a piece of what you create.

And beyond all of that, you’re so sweet. You’ve always been so kind and supportive, and it means the world to me. Knowing I have someone as wonderful as you around makes everything feel just a little bit better. You’re a true gem and I hope you know how much you’re appreciated. Thank you for being you, for sharing your humor, your talent, and your kindness. I’m so glad I got to know you and be your friend.

@ruruumin :

Rurumi,

It’s been a while since we last talked, but I wanted to let you know how much you still mean to me. Even from the very beginning, you were nothing but kind and warm, and I can’t tell you how much that meant. I was in awe of you—not only because of your talent but also because of the genuine kindness you showed me right from the start. There’s something so rare and special about that, and it’s something I’ll always cherish.

Your work left such an impression on me; I still remember being completely captivated by your creativity and the incredible skill you put into everything you do. You have this unique talent that feels almost magical, like you’re able to bring your imagination to life in a way that’s truly inspiring. Every piece you create feels like a small masterpiece, and it’s clear that you pour so much of yourself into it. Being able to witness your talent is honestly an honor.

Thank you for being such a sweet and thoughtful friend, for your support, and for all the kindness you’ve shared with me. Even though we haven’t talked as much recently, you’re often in my thoughts, and I’m so grateful for the time we’ve shared. You’re truly one of a kind, and I hope you know just how amazing you are.

@oceanreveuse :

Anastasia,

It feels strange to put this into words, but I just need you to know how much you mean to me, even now. Even though it’s been a couple of months since we last spoke, I still think about you often, and I can’t help but miss you. I keep replaying our conversations in my mind, remembering how much brighter things felt with you around. It feels like there’s this empty space where you used to be, and it’s hard to ignore.

You’ve left such an impact on my life in ways I can’t fully explain. We may not have known each other for long, but somehow, in that short time, you managed to find a place in my heart, and I’m not sure that spot will ever really go away. You brought so much joy and comfort into my life, and I can’t thank you enough for that. I remember feeling truly happy for the first time in a long while, and that was because of you. Knowing someone like you exists gave me a reason to keep going, to hold on to the hope that there are people out there as wonderful as you.

I wish I could tell you all this in person, to let you know just how much I appreciate everything you did for me. I’m grateful beyond words for the time we shared, for the support you offered, and for the kindness you gave so freely. Even now, I find myself wanting to tell you about my day or share a small thought, hoping you’re doing well and finding your own happiness. You were someone who made life feel a little lighter, and I’ll always be thankful for that.

So, even if we don’t talk anymore, please know that you still hold a special place in my heart. You’re unforgettable, one of a kind, and I’ll always be grateful to have had you in my life, even if just for a while. Thank you for everything. I miss you, and I hope you find all the happiness you deserve.

@femivi :

Femi,

Even though we just met not even a week ago, I already feel so lucky to have crossed paths with someone as wonderful as you. From what I’ve seen so far, you’re incredibly sweet, and you have this amazing talent that completely blows me away. It’s rare to meet someone who can leave such an impression in such a short amount of time, but somehow, you’ve managed to do exactly that.

I’m genuinely looking forward to getting to know you better. I can already tell there’s so much more to discover and appreciate about you, and I hope this year gives us plenty of chances to connect, share laughs, and build some great memories. Here’s to what feels like the beginning of something really special—I can’t wait to see where our friendship goes!

— Here's to new beginnings, friends.

[thescarletnargacuga]

Regular digital circus showtime fic thats just

Caine (in a doctors outfit): Worry not pomni! As soon as i figure out what horrible illness is plaguing you i will not rest until you are cured!

Pomni: Caine for the 17th time it is litterally a minor cold.

Caine: I WILL CURE THIS ILLNESS FOR MY AMAZING WIFE OR DIE TRYING!

SNIFFLES

A SHOWTIME ONESHOT

WARNING: none

~~~

Pomni wasn't feeling one hundred percent. Still well enough to stand with the others and listen to Caine prattle on about the day's adventure, but she wanted to go back to bed. Her eyelids felt heavy and, despite not having a nose, felt the need to sniff mucus back every few minutes. She took a long sniff, loudly announcing to the room that she wasn't feeling her best.

Caine stopped talking almost immediately. "Pomni? What was that?"

"Huh? Oh, it's nothing. Keep talking. I didn't mean to interrupt."

"Oh my goodness gracious gravy. You're sick!" He zips to her and sweeps her off her feet. "Not to worry, my dear, I'll have you feeling better in a jiffy!"

"Wha- Caine!" She holds onto him for balance as he zooms off.

The other circus members watch Caine fly away. "So...we adventuring today or not?" Jax asks, looking at Bubble.

"How should I know? I'm a bubble." Bubble spun around in the air without a care in the world.

~

Pomni plopped down on an examination table. Bright florescent lights illuminated a doctor's office space. With a flourish, Caine's tux turned into a white doctor's coat and his cane turned into a clipboard.

"Caine, I'm fine. It's just a cold."

"It is most definitely not fine!" Caine rests his fist against his hip. "You are my wife. As your husband, it is my solemn duty to help you in any way I can."

"I appreciate that, but-"

"I will find a cure for this illness OR DIE TRYING!" Caine clicked his feet together at attention.

"Caine, please-"

"Now, now, just relax." Caine pushed her back to have her lay down on the examination table. "Leave everything to me. First, I should check your blood pressure. Since you have no blood in the digital realm, I'll have to improvise."

He strapped a bottle of ketchup to her arm and then wrapped the cuff of the sphygmomanometer around both. He squeezed the bulb to inflate the cuff until the bottle of ketchup burst. "Hmm, seems a little low." He tapped the ketchup covered gauge.

Pomni wiped ketchup off her face. "It's just a cold, Caine." She deadpanned.

"Now, to check your ears- wait, I forgot you don't have any. Uh, I suppose I could check your reflexes." A giant cartoon mallet appeared in his hand.

"Ah!" Pomni rolled off the table before the mallet came down. "It's just a cold!"

"Pomni, I need your full cooperation if you want to get better." He tossed the mallet away, a cartoon crash along with a cat's yowl sounded. "Oh! How could I forget, I need to check your throat! Say ah!"

"What? Mmph!!" Pomni nearly gagged when Caine shoved one of his eyes into her mouth.

Caine held his hand over her mouth for a few seconds before letting her spit out his eye. It bounced off the floor, to the wall and back in place through the back of his mouth. "I didn't see any fuzzy purple spots. This is most troubling. You're supposed to have at least three per corner."

"Caine, STOP! It's JUST a COLD!!"

Caine flinched at her shouting. He shrank down to the ground, tapping his fingers together nervously. "I'm...doing too much again, aren't I?"

Pomni sighed. "No, you're not doing too much. You're working yourself into a tizzy and not listening to me. Your anxiety deafens you to the point that I have to shout. I don't like doing that." She rubs her arm, looking away.

"I just-....I worry."

"I know you do, but even when you worry about someone, please listen to what they have to say."

Caine hung his head. "I'm sorry..."

Pomni put a comforting hand on his shoulder. "It's okay. You're okay. I'm not mad. I'm glad you care so much in your own unique way. If it helps, I'll let you play doctor a little longer, but I assure you, it's just a cold. I'll be fine in a few days."

"Okay." Caine held up his stethoscope. "Can I listen to your heartbeat?"

Pomni hopped up on the table. "Of course." She sat still for him as he gently pressed the chestpiece against her.

Caine heard only a quiet buzz of static. Normal for a digital avatar. He went to pull away when Pomni held his hand to her chest.

"Ba-bum...ba-bum..." Pomni repeated rhythmically.

"What are you doing?" Caine arched his top teeth quizzically.

"It's what a human heart sounds like. I'm just playing along." Pomni smiled.

Caine smiled back, holding the chestpiece in place a little longer to hear Pomni mimic the steady beat of a real human heart. "Sounds healthy."

"It is. It gets a lot of exercise when I see the most handsome AI in the whole world."

Caine blushed and giggled. "Stahp, I bet you say that to every AI."

"Nah, just the one I married." Pomni leaned towards him with come-hither eyes.

Caine smirked, leaning in with her. "Lucky fella."

"I'm the lucky one." Pomni softly kissed his bottom teeth.

[ashroomy]

Can't stop thinking about fnv ocs so I'm gonna ramble about them alllll

Jasper: He's my courier who's yes man aligned. He tries to be extremely upbeat and cheerful (think, useless ray of sunshine). He always tries to see the best in people's which means he's very good at getting scammed. If someone were to overcharge him for some medicine he would go "aw must have taken them so much time and effort to produce, and they're offering it to me, worth every cap :)" He also will see actual horrors unfolding and still try to see the good in a person. Like in Nipton seeing Vulpes. Whilst horrified at the crimes, he looks at him and goes "oh :( what made you this way. You can be better. I'm sorry they made you like this" despite the fact that the whole town is actively on fire. He believes in peace and diplomacy but can be a huge pushover. However he is extremely good at bandaging wounds. If he didn't get shot in the head and demand answers, he'd be a doctor.

August: My legion frumentarii who hates the legion! He got taken by the legion when his village was invaded. He's not violent by nature. But he knew that being peaceful would lead to his death. He did what he could to survive and discovered his knack for spying. Allowing him to become a frumentarii, he was pleased, hoping he wouldn't have to kill anymore. He was extremely devastated when he found out this wasn't always the case. A skilled actor. He uses this to his advantage, if he had his way, he would be performing on stage in many shows. Has a habit of taking notes on everything he sees. This has a tendency to wind up the other people around him.

Noah: Originally a joke character between me and a friend who became his own decently serious character. He works for the NCR designing propaganda for them. He likes being left alone and drawing hunched over. Has a strange relationship with the legion, as he knows he should despise them, but he has friends and family who are surviving in there. So he believes there must still be good people in there somewhere, despite the atrocities. In his propaganda, he will draw people who loosely resemble those who got taken by the legion so that on the off chance those people see the posters, they know he's still thinking of them.

Claire: Noah's older sister and dedicated NCR soldier. She takes extreme pride in serving the NCR and is passionate about following all orders to a T. She attacks most tasks with a frightening zeal and many are pleased she's on their side. Unlike her brother, she holds nothing but disgust for the legion for taking her family and friends, and vows to crush the legion to prevent anyone else going through the same fate as her loved ones. Every time there is a potential chance for a NCR and Legion clash. She is the first to volunteer to step in.

Ferox: My horrible horrible centurion, he holds the legion in high regards and vehemently believes in their ideals. Ruthless and bloodthirsty, he has little in the way of friends in the legion due to his offputting and intimidating air. He doesn't mind. As he believes that he is the most loyal person in the legion and everyone else is below him, he refuses to talk to anyone he believes is "lesser" than him. His violent nature and arrogance make him highly detested and feared in and out of the legion. From the same village as August, he fought hard to survive, but came to appreciate the legion over time, losing sight of how he even got there in the first place. Claire later defeats him. (Which is good because I hate him and he's only a character so I can practice writing awful people)