#anyways I made the mistake of making a ‘self insert’ character

[trashbatistrash]

,

[penmansparadise]

Tommy Shelby ~ Dust in the Wind

*I DON'T OWN THIS GIF* *CREDIT TO GIF OWNER*

*I do not give anyone permission to repost my work in any way (translations included)*

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 5.5k

Warnings: Discusses infant loss/stillborn, ANGST, mild language, possibly ooc Tommy

a/n: Alright, well, it has been quite some time since I've posted on this site. First, let me get a few things out. 1) This is the most self-indulgent piece I have ever written, so if you don't want to read it, please just keep on scrolling. 2) This does not mean that I am ready to start taking requests again or that I will be regularly writing again. As stated before, this is a very self-indulgent piece because I just experienced the loss of my daughter, who was born prematurely. It has completely wrecked me, and I have just finally decided to start writing again. I am trying to navigate my loss and thought maybe writing would help. It did, and although this piece is a little darker than I usually write, it was therapeutic, and I wanted to share it because I am proud of my work. I did write it as a reader insert, but if you all read it and think it would be better as an OC story, I'll change it. Anyway, this is the first time I've ever written for Tommy, so please forgive the potential out-of-character actions he has in this story. Also, it has been a bit since I watched season 3 so forgive any mistakes. I took some liberties with the story by adding different children for Tommy and Y/N and some of the things that happened in the show. Well, I hope you enjoy this story, and would really like to know what you all think.

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Y/N was no stranger to death.  It was Small Heath, for goodness’ sake.  Death practically ran in the water.  Being deeply entrenched in the Shelby family since she was a young girl only made her acquaintance with death’s steely grip all that much closer.  She had been to more than enough funerals in her 29 years of living.  She was present at the cemetery when her father finally drank himself into his grave, she was there to mourn when consumption took her mother, and she showed up to support Ada when they buried Freddie.  Y/N was always there when any of the Peaky boys were killed in the line of action, and she even showed up for her elderly childhood neighbor’s funeral.  But this time, it was different.  She wasn’t gathered in the woods on the outskirts of Small Heath to mourn for someone else.  There wasn’t a stranger tucked away in the wagon standing in front of her.  The Shelbys weren’t gathered to bid farewell to a distant relative or friend.  The Lees weren’t generously providing this funeral for a price.  No, the whole Shelby and Lee families were there for her and Tommy this time.

            The heat from the flames washed over Y/N’s face, making her sweat a little, but she didn’t move.  She wanted to be as close as she could possibly be.  If she had it her way, she would have jumped into the wagon and let the flames swallow her whole, but Tommy’s hand tightly gripping hers anchored her to the ground.  It had only been a few days.  It couldn’t have been more than four, but with how time was moving, it felt like a lifetime had passed.  The flames roared on, and Tommy squeezed her hand a little tighter, causing Y/N’s throat to tighten.  She swallowed down the sadness trying to claw its way out of her.  Y/N wasn’t going to break down in front of all these people.  She didn’t want to cry at all, for that matter.  It felt like it had been an endless stream of tears, and Y/N was done.  If only her aching heart would catch the memo.  Y/N’s eyes traveled the length of the flames until they landed on the little plaque one of the Lee boys carved for the wagon.  “Lily Eleanora Shelby,” it read, and suddenly, the sadness returned with a vengeance.  Y/N shut her eyes, and the events that led to this day played in her head.  She was supposed to be happy.  She was supposed to be full of unadulterated joy.  She was supposed to be cradling her newborn baby girl.  But she wasn’t.  Instead, she held onto her husband’s hand like a lifeline as she watched her daughter’s wagon burn.  One day.  That’s all it took to completely destroy her.

            Even as she stood there, watching the flames devour her daughter’s wagon, she still recounted everything she did four days ago, trying to figure out what could have possibly led to this result.  Four days ago, she was a cheery 29-week pregnant woman.  A stay-at-home mom who, with the help of their maid Frances, cared for her and Tommy’s three-year-old son, Benjamin.  That day had started like any other.  Tommy was already out, and she could hear Frances chasing Ben around his room.  The little boy’s giggles echoed through the house, and she remembers smiling as she slid a hand over her round tummy.  Y/N couldn’t wait for Ben to be a big brother.  She got ready like any other day and eventually made her way to her son, who welcomed her presence with a hug and a kiss.  The little boy rubbed her tummy, planted a chaste kiss to her navel, and smiled at her. 

            “I just wanted to let my little brother or sister know that I love them too, Mommy,” he had said, causing Y/N’s heart to clench.  Even at three, he was a charmer, just like his father.  She knelt to be at eye level with her son and lifted her hand to cradle his face.

            “You’re going to be a wonderful big brother; do you know that?”

            “Of course I will be, Mommy.  I’ve been practicing sharing my toys with Frances and making sure I listen real good to you and daddy.”  He said, standing up straighter to exhibit his full height.  “Frances says I need to be a good example for the new baby, or else Santa won’t bring me any presents this year for Christmas.  How outrageous is that, Mommy!?”

            Y/N stifled a laugh before brushing Ben’s hair back and looking up to see Frances smirking from her spot by Ben’s block tower. 

“I’m sure Santa won’t forget about you this year, honey.”  She told her son.  The boy gave her a toothy grin before trotting off to continue playing with his blocks. 

Y/N returned to her feet and watched Ben for another minute before retreating to the new nursery.  It was already put together, and she often found herself hiding away in that room.  She glided her hand over the bassinet and let the soft fabric tickle her palm.  The walls were already decorated with paintings of horses, some of which came from Ben, who insisted that his younger sibling have them.  She sat on the rocking chair and gently rubbed her hands over her stomach, earning a little kick from her unborn child.  A soft laugh fell from her lips as she looked down at her growing bump.

“Sorry to disturb you, love.”  She whispered, her hands still rubbing slow circles.  “Mommy just wanted to let you know she loves you very much.  And so does your big brother, who is very excited to meet you.”

Another kick came.

“You’re excited to meet him, too?  I’ll have to let him know.”

“Daddy loves you too, just in case Mommy forgot to mention that.”  Tommy’s voice came from the doorway, causing Y/N to look up.  He gave her a full smile, the one he reserved only for her and their son, and it fell over her like a warm blanket.

“Mommy was just about to get there.  Had daddy not interrupted her,” she said.  Tommy hummed in response as he floated across the room to kneel before her.  He looked up at Y/N through his lashes and said, “Sure you were,” before removing her hands and planting a soft kiss where they had just lay.

“Daddy can’t wait to meet you,” he whispered against her stomach, his warm breath radiating throughout her body.  Tommy looked up at Y/N before standing and pressing his lips to hers.  When he pulled away, a smile matching his spread across her face.  She was beaming.  She had dreamt of being in this position for many years as a teenager, and now it was real.  Thomas Shelby was hovering over her very pregnant figure in their unborn second child’s nursery.  Their lively three-year-old son’s muffled laughter ricocheted off the hallway walls.  It was everything she ever wanted, and she was so happy.

“What’s that look for?”  Tommy asked, pulling her out of her thoughts.

“Nothing,” she hummed, gaining a skeptical eyebrow raise from her husband.  “I just love you.  That’s all.”

Tommy nestled his face into the crook of her neck, peppering kisses along the exposed skin.  Then he pulled back, looked into her eye, and said, “I love you more than you know, Y/N.”

He gave her one more swift kiss before standing and sauntering out of the room with a smirk.  The rest of the day went by like any day usually went.  She sat around and read, played with Ben, ate lunch at 1100, put Ben down for a nap at 1230, and then went back to reading.  Tommy was in and out, balancing work from home and the office.  She could tell that day was extra tiring from how he sighed every time he left the house.  It was after Tommy left for the last time of the day that Y/N got the idea to wander down to the kitchen.  When she entered, the cooks were hard at work peeling and slicing vegetables.

“Good evening, Mrs. Shelby,” the head chef began, “is there anything we can do for you, ma’am?”

Y/N clasped her hands behind her back as she rocked back and forth on her heels like a guilty toddler.  “Um,” she said, “actually, yes, there is.”  She stepped into the kitchen and moved her hands to rest on her stomach.  “I was thinking that maybe tonight you and the rest of the staff could take the evening off and allow me to cook dinner.”

The head chef’s eyes widened at her statement.  Everyone else stilled for a brief moment, waiting for him to speak.  “Oh,” he stammered, “b-but, Mrs. Shelby, and please forgive me if I am overstepping, but shouldn’t you be resting instead of cooking?”  His eyes dipped down to her protruding abdomen before landing back on her face. 

“Resting?  I rest all day.  Really,” Y/N said, waving the chef’s comment off, “it would be nothing.  I actually miss being in the kitchen.  It’ll be nice.  Therapeutic.”  She couldn’t miss the wide-eyed stares from everyone in the room, but she chose to ignore them.  When they didn’t move to leave, she stepped forward, placed a gentle hand on the head chef’s back, and began leading him out of the kitchen. 

“Trust me,” she said, “I’ll be fine.  Thank you for your concern, though.”

Once she ushered the staff out, she began working on dinner.  It had been a long time since she cooked, but it came back to her like riding a bicycle.  She couldn’t escape the excitement that bubbled inside of her as she fell into a groove preparing dinner for her family again.  She boiled the potatoes the staff had peeled, sauteed the peppers and onions, and braised the beef that was in the refrigerator.  About an hour into cooking, a dull pain emanated from her lower back and into her hips.  The dull pain slowly morphed into a pressure that she just assumed was normal 29-week pregnancy symptoms.  It’s just the baby getting comfortable.  The baby is just moving around and pressing a little harder than usual on my cervix.  She ignored the feelings and finished cooking before asking the kitchen staff for help to bring the meal into the dining room.  Once the table was set, Frances went and fetched her boys, alerting them that not only had Y/N cooked dinner, but she had also served it.  She greeted the boys in the doorway of the dining room and gave each a kiss before they all sat to eat.  That pain returned in her lower back and hips, making it hard to get comfortable in her seat.  She let out a low groan of discomfort, and Tommy placed his hand over hers to gain her attention.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his eyebrows knitted together.  She swallowed another groan that threatened to come out and nodded with a strained smile.  Y/N could tell that her weak answer did nothing to reassure Tommy, but he didn’t press her. 

“How do you like the meal?”  She asked, doing her best to not sound strained against the constant pressure she felt pulsing between her legs.

Before Tommy could answer, Ben nodded with enthusiasm and stuffed a heaping scoop of mashed potatoes into his mouth.  “I love it, Mommy!  This is the best dinner I’ve ever had,” he said through his mouthful of food. 

Y/N smiled, but it must have looked more like a grimace because this time, Tommy stood up and moved to her side.  “Y/N,” he said, placing his hands on her shoulders, “are you sure you’re okay?  Should I have Frances phone the doctor?” 

Y/N grabbed his hand and squeezed it as she looked up to her husband.  “I’m fine, darling.  I promise.  Let’s just finish dinner.”  She pulled his hand to her mouth and pressed a kiss to his knuckles.  Then, using her head, she motioned for Tommy to sit again.  He stared at her for another moment, the line on his forehead deepening, before sighing and retaking his seat.  She kept her discomfort under wraps for the remainder of dinner because Tommy didn’t mention anything until after they had put Ben down for the night and were about to crawl into bed.  The pressure and pain had only grown in that short time, and she was beginning to get nervous.  She was sitting on the edge of their bed, eyes shut, and taking some deep breaths when Tommy’s hands landed on her thighs.  She could feel him kneeling between her legs, but she didn’t open her eyes.  She didn’t want to admit that her anxiety was consuming her or that the pain and pressure had turned into abdominal cramps.  It wasn’t until she suddenly felt the bed beneath her sopping wet that she looked at Tommy.  He looked down and saw the fluid dripping from her nightgown and their duvet before his gaze landed on her.  She could see his mouth moving, but his voice was drowned out by her rapidly beating heart.  Something is wrong.  She thought.  This shouldn’t be happening.  I’m too early.  Tommy pushed away the hair that had begun sticking to her sweaty forehead, and then ran out of the room.  His voice was distant, but she could have sworn he said something about calling Polly and Ada.  She wasn’t sure because all she could focus on was the sharp pain that was puncturing her abdomen and the immense pressure building between her legs.  Before she could comprehend what was happening, Tommy scooped her up and lay her on their bed.  What about the sheets?  I’m going to ruin the bed. 

She must have said those thoughts aloud because Tommy quickly said, “Don’t worry about the bed, love.  We’ll get another one if we have to.”  The pain was only getting worse, and she had to shut her eyes and bite her tongue to prevent a groan from escaping.  She didn’t know how much time had passed before Polly and Ada came rushing into the room, shoving Tommy into the hallway.  When it was just the three of them, Y/N finally let out a guttural moan.  She didn’t remember this much pain when she gave birth to Ben.  Something is wrong.  Something is not right.  Those words chanted in her head like a mantra.  Polly set her up on her bed while Ada used a wet towel to wipe away the sweat beading on her face.

“Just breathe, Y/N,” Polly chirped soothingly in her ear. “Ada and I are here.  We’re going to take care of you.”

Anxiety coursed through her veins and unfurled in her gut when the pressure between her legs began to increase.  She tried to cross her legs and prevent the inevitable from happening, but Polly and Ada wouldn’t let her.  Tears of pain and fear streamed down her cheeks.  She wanted to scream at them to stop and let her try to stop this urge to push.  But the pain and pressure were too much, and the only sound that came out of her mouth was a low groan. 

She could feel Polly’s hand between her legs, and the words “crowning” and “push” floated to her ears.  Ada took her hand, and Y/N tried with every fiber in her body to not push, but her body had other plans.  She held her breath and begged her body to stop forcing her baby out of her, but it was too late.  The pressure was building.  Climbing to a peak that felt like it would rip her in half until suddenly, she felt relief.  Her heavy breathing filled the room, and she waited impatiently for the tell-tale cries of her baby, but they never came.  She opened her eyes and looked at Polly and then at Ada.  They both just stared back at her, and Y/N knew something wasn’t right. 

“Y/N,” was all Polly whispered, and she knew.  The silence was deafening.  She lay there, completely exposed, bleeding, and sweaty, and waited, but her baby gave her nothing.  Her eyes shut and then, without any strength to stop it, let out a crushing wail.  The tears overflowed, and when she opened her eyes again, she watched the door burst open and Tommy storm in.  He moved over to where Polly held their baby and looked down at their motionless child.

“Why isn’t she crying?”  He asked. 

It was a girl.  I had a baby girl.  Even through her tears and sobs, she could see Tommy’s chest rising and falling at a rapid pace.

“Why isn’t she fucking crying, Pol!?”  Tommy’s voice boomed through the room and mixed with her loud cries to create the saddest song.  She could see the distress in the slant of his shoulders and how he ran a hurried hand through his cropped hair.  He didn’t wait for anyone to answer his question before bounding across the room and landing on the floor next to her.  His hands found hers, and she could feel them shaking.  His lips pressed to Y/N’s forehead and cheeks, absorbing only some of the tears that continued to cascade down her face. 

“It’s okay,” he whispered, but the way his voice cracked in her ear told her he didn’t even believe those words.  “I love you, Y/N.”  She could hear that his words dripped with the same despair she felt.  “You know that, ey?  I love you, and it’s going to be okay.”

Tommy’s words echoed in her head as she watched the fire blaze around her daughter’s wagon.  She wanted to be convinced that his words were true, but she couldn’t bring herself to believe them.  When the funeral finished, they all returned to Arrow House, where the wake was being held.  Even being in a crowded room surrounded by family, Y/N felt alone.  Her whole body was like radio static – unfeeling.  Tommy’s hand was on her lower back the entire time, but she still felt like she was floating away.  Nothing could tether her to this reality anymore.

Several people approached her and Tommy, and with every person, a new empty comment emerged. 

“I’m so sorry for your loss,” which loosely translates to, “Boy, that sucks to be you.”

“I can’t even imagine what you’re going through,” which means, “I’m really glad I’m not dealing with that!”

And, “At least you still have Ben,” equates to, “You shouldn’t be upset when you still have one kid alive.”

With every consolation tossed at her feet like the change she used to find on the ground when she was a child, this unknown sensation began to build in her chest.  It was heavy and wild, like an untamed animal.  It was red and bared its teeth, ready to bite.  It was something Y/N had never felt before.  She was usually understanding, calm, and collected.  She wasn’t hot-headed or easily provoked.  But now, she was quickly discovering that what she was feeling was rage.  Hot and stormy, it ravaged her insides, and instead of beating it back into its cage, Y/N leaned into it, letting it hold her battered and broken soul up.

After the wake, Y/N let her sadness swallow her.  She hid in one of the guest rooms daily and even went as far as to avoid Tommy.  She couldn’t bring herself to look at him because every time their eyes met, two things happened.  1) she could see the grief he was carrying like cinder blocks chained to his neck, and 2) she could see the way he looked at her like she was a broken piece of artwork now.  She knew she was a shell of the woman she once was, but it hurt her even more to know that Tommy saw it so plainly in her, too.  He didn’t see her as the strong, independent woman he fell in love with.  No, now she was a ghost of her former self, and she couldn’t take his pity for having lost their daughter and herself. 

Although clearly grieving, Tommy didn’t seem nearly as phased by their loss as Y/N.  He was able to jump back into work, and now, nearly a week since the wake, he was back to being fully invested.  If Y/N were being honest, she envied Tommy for being able to distract himself.  She couldn’t do anything but hide from the memories that haunted their home and do her best to still be a good mother to Ben.  When a week finally passed since laying her daughter to rest, Y/N knew she had to do something.  She would talk to Polly and beg for some sort of work.  She didn’t care that Polly insisted that Y/N take some “time to heal.”  She needed a distraction.  Being in Arrow House felt more like a prison than a home.

Y/N got dressed and began to head for the door after handing Ben over to Frances.  But, as she approached Tommy’s office, she could hear him talking.  She peeked through the tiny crack to discover John and Arthur sitting at Tommy’s desk. 

“Ada’s handling the Communists.  She’s got someone on the inside who’s giving us information,” Tommy stated.  “And,” he shuffled papers around on his desk, “I’m…dealing with Father Hughes.”

“And what about the horny princess?” John asked, leaning forward and adjusting his jacket.  “You gonna figure out where her family keeps the jewels?”

Tommy waved him off.  “I already know.”  That single statement had both his brothers and Y/N leaning forward just slightly.  Tommy lay a large blueprint on his desk, causing the brothers to stand.

“They keep their entire collection in this strong room.  There’s no way to get in from above without a key,” Tommy stated, flattening the paper and looking up at his brothers. 

“So, what’s your plan, brother?”  Arthur asked like a good soldier.  Tommy straightened slightly, and Y/N could tell he was a little uncomfortable.  He pulled a cigarette from his case and slid it across his bottom lip before lighting it and taking a drag. 

“We’ve gotta tunnel in,” Tommy said without hesitation.  Those four words landed on the Shelby men like a grenade, and Y/N could almost feel the atmosphere shift at the statement.  None of them moved.  It was evident that the idea of tunneling hadn’t been a thought in any of their minds since the war.  Tommy cleared his throat. 

“I know,” he began, “but there’s no other way.  I’ve already got Johnny Dogs ready to help.  He’ll set up camp where we’ll start the tunnel.”

The air was thick, and again, neither of the brothers spoke.  She knew they didn’t like the plan, but they would comply because Tommy was giving the orders.  Y/N watched as John and Arthur fiddled with their suit jackets, their anxious energy hitting her like a baseball bat to the face.  It wasn’t until Arthur blew out a puff of air and ran his hand through his messy hair, exposing his apprehension, that Y/N knew what she would do.  Without even a second thought, Y/N opened the door to Tommy’s office, and all three men turned to face her.  She was only adding insult to injury as the silence in the room became even heavier.  Neither of her brothers-in-law had seen her since the wake, and the uneasy energy was almost palpable.  Tommy stepped toward her but didn’t get too close, which Y/N could see his brothers noticed.

“Y/N, is everything alright, love?”

Her eyes flitted between all three of the Shelby men for a moment before finally landing back on Tommy.  She knew she probably looked like a deer in headlights.  Her stare was frazzled, and she knew she looked a bit harried.  But she still squared her shoulders and stated with the most conviction she could muster, “Let me help.”

All three men’s eyes widened to the size of saucers, but only one spoke. 

“Excuse me?”  Tommy asked, incredulity lacing each word.  There was no going back now.  Y/N had to double down on her commitment.  So, she waved her hand toward the blueprints on Tommy’s desk. 

“With the tunnel.”

Tommy’s eyes turned a shade darker, and Y/N could see his jaw tick.  She only glanced at John and Arthur for a second, and they both looked like they might choke on the thickness of the air.  She felt like she might, too, but she held her ground.  She was not a fragile porcelain doll and could help her husband like she used to.  Tommy coughed, then turned to his brothers and, in a calm voice, asked, “Would you mind giving me a moment with my wife, boys?”

Neither of the brothers wasted a second before hustling out into the hallway.  Once the door shut behind them, Tommy’s steely gaze landed back on Y/N.  Before, she would have felt a little nervous under Tommy’s intense glare.  She had never inserted herself into his shoddy business in the past.  But now, she didn’t care.  She needed a distraction and a way to prove that she was still a force to be reckoned with even after her loss.  Y/N could see Tommy trying to contain his anger as his nostrils flared and his fists clenched and unclenched at his sides.  His eyes shut for a brief moment as he took a deep inhale.

“Are you fucking insane, Y/N?”  He finally asked, his voice level.  Y/N’s mouth fell open, and she reared back just slightly.  But before she could say anything, Tommy continued.

“You’ve been avoiding me, your husband, for a week in our own home, and when you decide to finally speak to me, that is what you say?”

Y/N rolled her eyes.  “Tommy.”

“No, Y/N!”  He shouted, causing her to startle.  “You can’t just move past this!”

That statement made Y/N see red.  In the week since Lily’s passing, Tommy did precisely that.  Y/N’s spine straightened, and her whole body became rigid.

“Why not!?” she shouted back, stomping toward Tommy.  “Is that not what you did?  Pretend like we didn’t lose our daughter?  You threw yourself into your work.  Why can’t I do the same thing?”  Her chest was heaving, and as badly as she didn’t want them to, she could feel tears pricking at her eyes.  She hated that she was a frustrated crier.  Her fists were in tight balls at her sides, and every muscle in her body was flexed.  She was ready for a fight.  She was prepared for Tommy to yell back at her.  In fact, she wanted him to yell at her.  She wanted Tommy to tell her how stupid her idea was and that she was out of her mind.  She mentally begged Tommy to scream at her for barging in on his meeting with his brothers and even thinking about tunneling.  Y/N wanted to feel the passion he usually had toward her before they lost their baby.  She needed him to reassure her that she was not a lost cause he was housing but his fierce wife.  But he didn’t yell.  The fire in his eyes dimmed, and his features softened.  The pity eyes were back, and she was struck by the sadness she was trying to escape.  She shut her eyes in a lame attempt to avoid looking at her husband and keep her tears at bay, but it was futile.  The tiny droplets fell down her cheeks, and when she opened her eyes again, Tommy was right in front of her.  He lifted his hands to cradle her face, and she hated how she melted into his touch.  It had been a week since she even looked at Tommy, let alone touched him.  She couldn’t lie, she missed him.  But it was easier to hide from the pain and suffering they both shared than deal with it head-on. 

Y/N let out a shaky breath and looked into her husband’s eyes. 

“Why can’t I, Tommy?” She asked, barely above a whisper.  “Let me help you.  Please.”

Tommy’s thumb stroked her cheeks, wiping away a stray tear.  He cataloged her features, and for the first time in a very long time, she wished she could see into Tommy’s thoughts.  She stared at him and hoped that everything she wanted to say was conveyed in her eyes.  I’m no longer the same woman I was a week ago.  I’m a failure as a woman and a mother.  I’m alone, letting my thoughts eat me alive.  I’m scared you won’t love this broken woman I have become.  Her eyes pleaded for Tommy to let her prove that she could still be the same person as before.  She needed to prove to him and herself that she wasn’t hopeless.  But when Tommy shut his eyes and let out a sigh, she knew his answer before he even said it. 

He looked at Y/N and said sotto voce, “You know I can’t, love.”

Y/N’s body went rigid, and that new familiar sensation began to bubble in her gut.  She could feel it rumbling and swirling, mixing with her fear and sadness, creating an uncontrollable fury.  It burned like venom, but she found herself welcoming the sting.  Her once soft features hardened, and Tommy noticed the change immediately.  Her stare was blank, and the joy that used to fill it had vanished.  Before losing her daughter, she never understood why the war had changed Tommy.  She supported him while his experiences ravaged him, but she never knew why he returned with a harder exterior than when he left.  But now, after suffering such a devastating loss, she understood.  There is no coming back from witnessing a tragedy. 

Tommy’s rough thumbs brushed against Y/N’s tear-stained cheeks and bent until his forehead rested on hers.  “Where did the woman I married three years ago disappear to?”  He said, his breath fanning over her face.  He pulled back, his distressed stare locking Y/N in place, and whispered, “I know she’s in there.”

The words stung like a slap to her already bruised ego.  She could feel the weight of that question in every bone of her body.  All her fears began raging a war inside her head, and she could feel her armor cracking.  She could feel the tears clogging her throat, burning as she swallowed them down.  Her lungs felt like they weren’t getting nearly enough oxygen, and she was only seconds away from either crying or breaking something.  With a swift step backward, Y/N separated herself from her husband.  She hated to admit that her body yearned for Tommy’s hands back on her, but she batted that thought away as quickly as it appeared.  Tommy slowly lowered his hands back to his sides, and she leveled him with a callous stare.

“That woman is gone, Tommy,” she spat.  “She burned to ash with her daughter a week ago.”  She could see the way her words landed on Tommy like bullets striking his chest.  Some of her felt bad, but the angry beast slowly becoming her new persona convinced her she did nothing wrong. 

Y/N waited for Tommy to say something, anything, back to her, and when he didn’t, she turned and reached for the door.  Confidence that felt different from what she was used to coursed through her body like electricity.  She was a little scared of who she was becoming, but those wild and fiery feelings of rage were the only things that brought her peace.  Before pulling the door open, she turned back toward Tommy and said, “If you won’t let me help you, Tommy, I’ll find someone else who will.  You forget, my roots run deep in this business, too.”

Tommy let out a dry laugh.  “You’re really threatening me, now, ey?”

Y/N’s grip tightened around the cold door handle, and, through gritted teeth, she growled, “It’s not a threat, Thomas.  It’s a promise.”  Without a second look, she flung the door open and stepped out. 

John and Arthur straightened at her abrupt appearance, and she just brushed past them, letting her feet carry her toward the front of their home.  She knew they heard her and Tommy’s conversation, but she didn’t care anymore.  This newfound boldness that her bereavement had granted her washed away any and all anxiety.   

“Hope you enjoyed the show, boys,” Y/N tossed over her shoulder toward John and Arthur.  “Next time, I’ll sell tickets and make talking to my husband more worthwhile rather than a waste of my time.”

She didn’t turn back around to see their reaction to her words.  Instead, she showed herself out and hopped into one of Tommy’s many vehicles.  She would find another way if he wouldn’t allow her to help.  The image of a tall Jewish man whom she briefly met a while back when Tommy first started expanding into London entered her mind.  She knew exactly who would be more than willing to give her a hand in her effort to help the Shelby family – Alfie Solomons.

[gaiuskamilah]

I wish Aerin stans would stop spamming Pixelberry's socials with misogynistic anti-Valax posts. There's a push to sideline the female characters every time they are given an equal importance to the plot as their male counterparts. Aerin stans are out there making distasteful, sexist, transphobic jokes about the characters and complaining because Valax has more screen time than Aerin. One of the accounts guilty of this toxic behavior has justified the three to one ratio in the past. They were fine with the favoritism when it served them. The moment there's a story with three strong female LIs, they throw a fit, posting weirdly misogynistic and hateful comments about Nia and Valax. The hypocrisy this takes is astounding.

It's upsetting to see so much hatred for the female characters coming from other members of the community. It's founded on a gross mischaracterization of the characters. The female LIs aren't overlooked for once. I thought we could all agree that this is a good thing. Apparently not. Sidelining the sapphic female characters and silencing their fanbase has become the norm within the Choices fandom. The developers are partly responsible for this behavior.

damn they're doing this now? i wish i could say i was surprised but i'm not. this happens with almost every popular white male LI - just look at what happened with ramsey. even with the tumblr fandom much smaller now than it was before (and with pb less active on tumblr), this still happened last year with blades 2 releasing. even with this fandom being predominantly composed of women, it's awful how much misogyny i've seen in it, whether to characters or to hypothetical "horny degenerate facebook moms" people love to scapegoat for what they perceive is a downgrade in releases.

blades is one of their rare series where female LIs get their stories front and center - particularly nia and valax in b2 - and while i have my own criticisms of how b2 was handled i find that so much "criticism" of b2 comes from mean spirited, resentful perceptions of these women "hogging" the spotlight. whether from mc or other characters, it doesn't matter. all i heard was omg how dare they highlight nia over mc aka ME! how dare they make mc (ME) care about valax! how dare they take away time from my precious whiteboy to make space for the rip off woman! i simply think some of you think of yourselves too much and take too seriously the self-inserting into MC, who is not even entirely your character - they're a pre-set character in a game with pre-set characteristics and storylines. they're not wholly you.

this kind of behavior is what makes me dislike otherwise fine characters i'd like if i wasn't exposed to the fandom. it's what made me slightly resentful of aerin during the weeks he was written out of blades 2 before he came back and reminded me that i actually do like his character when i'm not exposed to the misogynist takes of annoying fans all the time. i've seen this behavior with my own special whiteboy gaius - i make the mistake of scrolling on instagram and i see a good number of his fans still shitting on kamilah like they did in 2020. choices fans act normal about women (especially WOC) challenge, failed! every year, a failure! and it's true, the devs are partially at fault with fostering this kind of behavior.

anyway, if it's any comfort at least with blades, we'll always have canon integrating these wonderful women into truly great arcs in the series and writing the white male LI out. not even his misogynist fans will take that from us lol. cope and seethe, meanwhile we have nia's fantastic b2 arc and a free valax i love you scene, and more great scenes in b3!!

[lutethebodies]

hey just letting you know, I really enjoy your Cannor/Minthara ship posts. You're one of a handful of the regular shippers I know who thinks about, like, long term relationship stuff with your oc and Minthara, beyond the puppy love years and actually considering how they'd manage to live/work/survive together without it all breaking down.

keep it up, you're appreciated ^_^

I hope anon will forgive me if I jump off their very kind note to mention a few reasons why I think I might be good at what they noticed about my character pieces like the one they mentioned.

First, age. I was recently told in no uncertain terms (by people much younger) that it's both hilarious and pathetic for me, a 47-year-old person, to post on Tumblr about anything at all, let alone BG3 character ships. I think someone even said "you're as old as my parents, just stop." And, well, whatever. I made a dumb and needlessly negative mistake (which earned me a lot of other weirdly reductive and untrue assumptions, and because this is the internet, all of it will of course live forever somewhere) on a topic I'd already covered better in non-negative ways. But it ultimately doesn't matter, because life is cringe and self-flagellation is performatively silly and nobody who cares about me judges me for blogging on Tumblr anyway.

However, I think my age (at least in terms of life experience) helps me think about interpersonal behavior and relationships in ways that younger people might not. I don't wanna go full Joe-Biden-in-denial about this—because who the fuck am I, really?—but the fact that I'm still married to the same person after 18 years (with 8 more together before that) speaks to what I've been able to learn and know about how these things work. (Pro tip for a successful marriage: don't have kids; we don't and we're very happy about that.). So that's a bit of an obvious self-insert in what I write for Cannor.

Second, employment status. After decades in the professional design/marketing world, I'm very fortunate to (post-quarantine) be able to freelance part-time as a creative professional and stay home as a house-spouse. I can make art and record songs and write posts and bike for exercise pretty much when I want, as well as take care of housework. It's really inspiring and I like to spread inspiration whenever I can. I also think it's important to be a proud house-spouse as a cishet USAmerican man because even now (get your tiny violins ready) we are still mocked as unmanly and societally useless if we don't have the right job title or don't make more money than our wives or don't have 6 kids or whatever it is that a man's man's man is supposed to be like. Fuck that noise.

I have no problem being a man who is, in many ways, overshadowed by what my spouse does in her life and with her career. She works hard, she's really good at what she does, and is really patient with a flighty artist guy at home. That's how love works for us. (She would probably be annoyed at the mere fact of me getting hung up on all this shit, btw). Most of my "career" work has been ephemeral (that's marketing for you), and I value my decades of making art and music way more anyway, even and especially since it's a hobby and I'll never be celebrated for it. So that vibe goes into my Cannor-Minthara headcanon as well (remember folks, self-insert is not a sin).

Finally (and I say this as a reminder to myself as much as anyone else): think before posting. Don't put needlessly negative things out there, because the world will oblige you in return a hundredfold. Perhaps obvious, but always a lesson worth re-learning. Believe it or not, some old people do realize when they need to re-learn shit.

Now, if you don't mind I'd like to go back to being laughably cringe on main.

[narwhalandchill]

(just my 2.3 pull / general hsr rambles/rant but i get negative abt fireflys characterization again so thought id hide it for all the fans sake. good for yall & good luck pulling her i just cant get into her)

welp got my e1 gallagher (+ e2 mika) in 30 pulls on firefly so thats it from me, ill get e2 from the character selector so at least thats sth!!! i have been playing him a bit even at e0 and i do overall like how he feels so getting him to that e2 breakpoint where he rly starts to thrive as a sustain pick is v nice

anyway no early firefly which is whatever i consider her in game writing an absolute failure anyway and havent cared enough to watch Any of the trailer stuff either bc like . they lost me in 2.0 im sorry girl no matter how hypothetically good those trailers could be the writing team lost me forever at the ayaka-teppei forced date arc and thats it lmao . she couldve been an actual character but oh well what matters is shoving how cute and perfect and sad and in love with TB she is down ur throat at every fucking moment . her idle animation is so fucking bad too it made me laugh irl at how awful and cheap the fanservice is w her like yeah alright navia idle (which is already the worst idle in genshin i hate it) 💀💀💀 how do you do a characters potential this fucking dirty holy shit . we havent shilled firefly self insert ship to players enough so lets upskirt her too uwu!!!!!

But uhhh yeah thats a me being a hater thing ultimately i just physically cannot stand characters like this and first impressions do matter . Dont let me ruin her for u. nothing but props to her VA too like as much as her general characterizations appeal has been unsuccessful on me still shes been giving it the Absolute most to try to make her feel real and sympathetic and i respect that a lot

Still tho only thing that rly sucks w not just getting firefly at 4 pity or whatever and being done w it is just the. Welp Guess ill proceed to be unable to full clear any of the next 7 AS or MoC updates bc i pulled the wrong characters instead of Good Meta Dev Faves acheron and firefly like havent rly been a fan of the way the shilling has been going recently . like i just have rly shit matchups into the weaknesses of most stages these days and idk i havent even felt like Bothering to do PF 4 bc i just. DoT PF is always the fucking worst and i genuinely dont know what the hell to try to slap at it for a clear. guess my bad for not pulling swan either like truly my mistake . whatever its just a game .

Actually am i getting like burnt out ? well tracks for a honkai game i suppose. ig it also has to do w just the absolutely abysmal luck ive had now like. ive lost LC 75-25 of the 3 times i went for it TWICE . ive lost 50-50 like 5 times in a row now lmao and fully expect to lose on jade too at this point 🙃 might not even manage to get her at all . Sigh guess thats gacha at its worst for u

Sorry this got way more negative than i thought HSJSKSKSKSKSKD i hope the 2.3 story ends up being good at least so theres Sth good about it . and its not like i will die not clearing endgame content w full stars or sth it just sucks bc the way its happening just feels bad

edit: yeah im @ coffee break at work and it took me this fucking long to realize i just casually typed mika instead of misha JSJSTUHTS8J5Z9 💀💀💀💀 im so sorry misha youre way better than that nerd 😭😭😭😭😭 esp at c2 w the def shred i might even build him who knows . So sorry for this

[wishchthumblr]

ive made a lot of self-inserty ocs in my time, and if you'd look at them all you'll see most of the time theyre the child/little sister of one of the characters. one of the characters who is kind. who cares. who loves. who wont leave her or hurt her or lie to her or hate her. who is stong and will protect her. im realizing all those inserts are just because the connections and relationships i give to her is what i desperately wish for.

i just want someone to see my pain and take me into their arms and let me crawl onto their lap and hide in the crook of their neck. i want someone to gently pet my hair and let me cry on their shoulders. i want someone to see me, all of me, all my flaws and cuts and marks and failures and faults and all my ugliness and mistakes and all the mean things ive done, and i want them to say that its ok. that they love me anyway and that im only human and that its ok to hurt sometimes. i want someone to see my cuts and my bruises and hold me gently anyway, i want someone who'll get a warm towel and clean my wounds and tell me im still beautiful. that im not ruined. that i still have worth.

i want to be able to put down the masks and the pretend in front of another person and still feel safe. i dont want to feel like i have to run away whenever the tears come because im scared they'll see me as weak and useless and pathetic and dumb and annoying and a waste.

i want someone i can trust to tell the truth tell me im pretty, and that despite how much ive been hurt i can still be kind, and that im still loved and that its not to late for me to be a better person, that im not already a horrible person. that im just a kid who made a lot of mistakes. i want someone to hold me and let me cry and tell me that it wasnt my fault, that i was just a child and that it shouldn't have been my responsibility in the first place.

i just want to able to be the small one, the young one, the one who is comforted instead of always having to comfort others. i just want a family where i can act like the youngest, because thats what i am, instead of being forced to be the adult.

i just want a father who cares about me, that i dont have to constantly fear is going to come back into my life and hurt me again, that didnt tell me how awful and ugly and pathetic i am over and over and over and over until i had no choice but to believe him, that didnt hate me. that didnt leave me. that didnt make it very clear that he would always put the needs and wants of himself and his girlfriend before the needs of his child. i wish i didnt know what being unwanted felt like at 7 years old.

i want a mother who that i can cry on without having to be aware of how she's feeling, that i can talk to without feeling like i have to constantly censor myself to not give away just how much she messed me up, that i can hug and be comforted by instead of feeling like my skin is burning every time she touches me. i dont want to be forced to be a therapist to my own mother, hearing all the things i have in common with my father and how all those qualities make a person terrible. i wish i didnt know how to stop crying on command, how to be numb and empty at 12 years old.

i want a big brother who will protect me instead of hurt me, i want to be able to look at my brother and know he'll chase all the monsters away instead of being the monster. i wish i wasnt forced to have this specific room because its the only room where the door opens in, so that he cant open it if he wants to hurt me. i dont want to have to think about what i'd do if he stops pulling his punches one day and kills my mother. or if he kills my dog. or if he kills me. I dont want to be forced to hide all the fragile things because he might break them. i dont want to live in a house where we have to hide the knives because you never know what he'll do. i wish i didnt know how to quickly hide the fragile and valuable things and how to take the hits and hide the pain and hide the fear at seeing my mother on the floor after being beaten by my big brother at 10 years old.

i wish i lived a life where im not scared that everyone i love will hurt me. i wish i had a family who are the reason i wake up in the morning instead of being the reason i want to go back to sleep.

i wish i had a family i could look at and honestly and truthfully say, "i know they would mourn me if i killed myself."

but i cant say that. because i genuinely dont know if they would.

and i think the most terrible thing of all, is that i dont know if i would mourn them either

and that thought is terrifying to me

[autumnslance]

I have a question! How do you get over a fear of writing and creating a character? I try to write but I start feeling anxious. My brain doesn’t want to come up with anything. Even trying to imagine a character in another series causes the anxiety. I know I should stop but I don’t like the idea of stopping as I feel like I’m failing.

Is it the creation, or the potentially sharing with others, that's actually scary? Is it what others may say? Is it feeling like what you might come up with isn't "good enough" in some way? Is it fear of a self-insert, or of being derivative? Feeling like you have to create characters and stories to be in fandom, rather than wanting to create for the sake of it?

A lot of times, it's our fear of how others might react or think that stops us. We're afraid of looking dumb, or oblivious, or otherwise Incorrect in some way, and that we'll be ridiculed or scorned for it. We're taught to fear failure and the judgment we think comes with it.

It's easy to say "kill the cop in your head" and "screw what others think, create for yourself" but it IS hard, if it's a point we want to even get to for ourselves.

So figure out what part of the process actually is scary. I guarantee it's not actually "all of it!" There's at least a ranking of "scariest" to "least scary but still nerve-wracking". Once named and acknowledged, and broken down, it's a little easier to tackle.

I made up stories and characters in my own head for years before I ever shared them with anyone. A teacher singling out my and another student's stories as meeting the mark of an assignment in completely opposite ways helped. Screwing up the courage to post to my high school's nascent lit journal was hard.

I was terrified. I was one of the weird kids constantly bullied or ignored. If people knew who I was, they didn't like me cuz I was awkward and unsociable. But I wanted to write, and adults I trusted who read the few things I actually turned in told me I was decent at it, so I did it scared anyway.

And nothing bad happened. Some folks thought my stories were OK. If they said anything at all.

It took me several years before I was able to post anything online. Some was access. Some was fear. Some was feeling like I didn't have characters or stories to share. I got into roleplay, online and in person. My characters were...well, LynMars, my usual handle, is from a Vampire LARP character I played over 20 years ago, and made a lot of baby roleplayer mistakes on. I did her dirty in many ways. She wasn't a good character. Had a basic screwed up backstory but no real goals or plans. I played her for a few years and learned a lot from her, and so she's stuck with me as a reminder.

Several of my characters from those days weren't great; unimaginative, derivative, some very much "wow I did not know better back then..." But...we had stupid goofy RP fun anyway, learned from those characters and each other, tried new things. Sometimes they worked. Sometimes they didn't. A lot of times it was nerve-wracking.

There's a lot I write that I don't post. Some because it isn't ready yet. Some because I'm not ready and don't know that I ever will be. It's scary. And some of that is the bully still in my head, and I know it, and some days that's easier to deal with than others. Some days I can tell the bully to screw off. Sometimes I keep those stories private, I tell myself as indulgences.

I give myself the grace to fail, and remind myself that doing it scared anyway is where many of us live every day.

Anxiety sucks. Even with meds and therapy, it doesn't entirely go away. Figuring out how to work around it, or through it, or even wrangle it into submission and work for oneself, is tricky and individual. But it doesn't own or define you and your creativity.

Start small. Start simple. Start for yourself and don't worry about sharing it yet. If making up a new character is hard, find a favorite canon character, marinate and rotate that blorbo in your brain awhile, then file the serial numbers off as you imagine them in What Ifs and AUs. Share only if and when you're ready, if it's a thing you want to actually do.

And you may not. You don't have to create anything to be part of fandom. You don't have to have OCs with full backstories and planned futures. You don't have to write or draw or screenshot stories. You can just vibe.

Find why you want/need to create. How much it means to you. Isolate what parts of creation and/or sharing are so scary. Figure out if it's something you personally truly want or need. Then you'll be able to chart your path forward, one way or another.

[treetownconfessions]

new-ish to the blog (been here about a month....,,) and i wanted to finally get this off my chest bc it was killing me. i'm queer as hell now but BACK THEN when i was 11-13 i was a cis boy who just liked reading comics and doing a jump everyday in hopes of becoming the tallest jumper in the world. and at the time i found out about happy tree friends and got into it very fast, both bc the gore and extremity was edgy and cool to me and because i genuinely liked the characters. i developed a crush on flippy, because, who didnt, and finding out a LOT of htf fans felt the same made me happy at first. but it became really clear nearly all the people who crushed and fangirled over him were girls irl and i felt like a weirdo about it because i was a BOY and i had a crush on flippy who was ALSO a boy. BUT seeing those same people ship flippy with other boy-characters in the show gave me massive mixed messages, because everyone seemed to love it when it was in-show only and i hadnt EVER met another boy online who had a crush on flippy so i wondered if it just wasnt allowed when it was outside of that, even though i wanted to express it with everyone else so bad. i couldnt go to my irl friends bc none of them were into htf and i was worried theyd think i was weird anyway. so my solution to keep crushing on flippy while still being normal to everyone else was making a htf oc that was quite literally a self-insert of myself, all the way down to the comics i liked irl, and shipped him with flippy. but i never told anyone it was my self-insert and just said it was an oc very unrelated to me and i wanted to keep it that way. i made horrible art of us and wrote equally horrible fanfic of this "oc" and flippy, bc i thought it was a genius solution to expressing my adoration for flippy whilst keeping the handful of followers and online friends i had satisfied bc it was boy x boy stuff. i never wrote/drew raunchy stuff about them bc as far as i can remember it was just shit like going on a date with flippy at the library or having picnics with him etc etc. but once i shared a recent fic with one of my online friends about them and at some point they went "you wrote it like an x reader so i thought it was self insert lol" and i was genuinely in shambles. i thought they were accusing me of having a crush on flippy myself and they were about to expose me or something (they didnt even know i was a boy irl so i dont know??) so i defensively told them it wasnt a self insert and i wasnt attracted to flippy in the slightest. but i was really rude about it and they replied saying they never said that, they never accused me of having a crush on flippy or anything like that and it was just a mistake. i dont remember the entirety of our messages but i remember getting so butthurt and angry i kept telling them to fuck off and that it wasnt a mistake on their end and they HAD to be accusing me of actually liking flippy. i blocked them and i cried so hard into my pillow i could barely breathe and i considered running away from home that day bc i was convinced that person was gonna tell everyone i liked flippy even though i was a boy and somehow get to my irl friends and family and i would be considered a freak for it forever. i stopped posting my art and fics of that "oc" and flippy after that and i didnt know how to delete my account at the time (it was on deviantart) so i just logged out and never touched it again. ive been thinking about it recently now as an adult and i forgot the password to that account so everything is still up and there hasnt been a new comment since 7 years ago but it keeps me up at night thinking about the person i cussed out and all the published stuff

[abookishidentity]

Books read in April 2024

-A Quantum Love Story by Mike Chen started March 29, 2024 and finished April 2, 2024 - 4/5 stars. This is a time loop story with love in it. Time loops are always so angsty and devastating. I like how the main character initiated the love story. Its very interesting how the only way to stop the loop from repeating again is to go back in time to fix mistakes. Its devastating that the main character doesn’t end up with the man she likes but she makes it so her past self can end up with him. Did not see that coming 

-Light Years from Home by Mike Chen started April 2, 2024 and finished April 5, 2024 - 5/5 stars. Oh man what an amazing book. Imagine having such an estranged relationship with your family that when you and your dad are abducted with aliens you are like “Yeah, I’ll fight this alien war but I’ll send my dad back though” I don’t know what I would do if my twin was abducted by aliens and then returned years later. Such good family drama in this book. Lots of “Why didn't you come back?” and “It’s your fault that dad died!” 

-The Afterlives by Thomas Peirce started April 5, 2024 and finished April 8, 2024- 4/5 stars. Man dies and comes back and sort of has a crisis about not seeing anything. Interesting characters and plot. This was going to be 3 stars but the part with the main character going through the machine was interesting. Main character was a tad annoying but I have read worse. 

-The Echo Wife by Sarah Gailey started April 9, 2024 and finished April 10, 2024 - 4/5 stars. What do you do when you find out your husband essentially made a clone of you and marries her? I’m so glad the clone murdered the abusive husband. It sounded like the main character and her husband were toxic to each other. I was thrown a bit when the clone and the main character decided to make a clone out of the asshole cheating husband but whatever. Asshole husbands are buried in the garden it seems. Interesting ending. 

The Mimicking of Known Successes by Malka Older started April 11, 2024 and finished April 12, 2024- 4/5 stars. Cozy murder mystery in space with lesbians. What’s not to love? The dynamic reminded me of Sherlock Holmes and Watson a bit. This was a short book so I read it pretty quickly. 

-The Imposition of Unnecessary Obstacles by Malka Older started April 12, 2024 and finished April 15, 2024- 4/5 stars. The sequel was a tad longer but it was still pretty good. I would be interested to see where this series goes. 

-The Devil You Know by Mike Carey started April 15, 2024 and finished April 19, 2024- 4/5 stars. Now this is the urban fantasy that I really fucking love. It makes me think what the hell Felix was doing before this book took place. It amuses me to no end that Felix plays the tin whistle to do stuff with ghosts. Imagine going about your business and see a man playing a flute and playing popular british songs. Anyway good book. I need to read the entire series. Felix Castor is an interesting man living in an interesting world. 

-The Veiled Masters by Tim Pratt started April 19, 2024 and finished April 22, 2024- 5/5 stars. Oh man what an excellent book. It’s the third book of a trilogy. There’s just something about mind controlling spores that I just fucking love. It actually works in this book. I also love the mind control is added with feelings of bliss and happiness when a task is completed. This trilogy was entertaining as hell and I love the diversity of characters. It’s also queer which is good. I think I ought to look into Tim Pratt books more. 

-Vicious Circle by Mike Carey started April 22, 2024 and finished April 28, 2024 -5/5 stars. Holy crap I think I like this series as much as the Sandman Slim series by Richard Kadrey. Felix is incredibly interesting. He inserts himself into certain situations though as if he’s the only one that can fix things but whatever. I’m a little confused as to why a certain dude injected him with truth serum. Didn’t even get to read if it actually worked or not. It’s very interesting to see how Felix will get out of situations and or fights. He can get hurt and has to recover like any normal person. It makes a lot of sense that at the end of the book his landlady/friend is like “Yeah you aren’t living here anymore” 

-dhalgren by samuel r. delany started April 28, 2024- I am half way through this book at the current moment. I am unsure if I’m going to finish it. The main character doesn’t seem particularly picky with things including where he’s sleeping and who he is sleeping with. I hope protection still exists. Like the main character will sleep with women and men and there isn't any mention of protection. Like fucking hell I just got to the part where he does stuff with the 15 year old boy. I'm pretty sure it's considered rape. This book was written in the 70s and I have to remind myself with that. This book doesn’t always make sense but I guess that’s fine. Perhaps I’m reading it for a change in scenery. Sometimes you got to read things that make you uncomfortable.

[bnunnybrained]

I've made a lot of self inserts, like more than that's probably considered normal even now when I've realized I have a habit of adding parts of myself to characters I don't consider self inserts

Dreyan and subsequently Anna, to a lesser extent, were at once nothing but the culmination of negative and positive traits but have since grew into their own characters, a Tragic Hero save from his fate and the Heroine who saved him

Vari at one point was something I considered my fursona but has since became an expression of an existential fear I still kinda harbor to this day, that no matter what you want to be, what you are is set in stone because of the person that you came from, a reoccurring theme that happens to nearly the entire Ahbell family as well as a good chunk of OCs from the ruinverse as I think the whole "Being better than what others think you are" is a theme I like to vibe with. (plus I made the mistake of giving them a hot mom which would make things awkward going forwards)

Vio was my first foray into feeling out a one true self insert and playing around with my ideas of femineity and gender identity and though I'm actually unsure if I still consider him a self insert or not, I am excited to write about him his weird hybrid universe made out of two universes and the other kinky witches he's surrounded by

DV is a near straight, one to one rip of me as a person, who's whole thing is playing the straight man to a dystopian world that runs on porn logic, which is funny cause his story is probably gonna end up being the least serious, probably anyway

Also shout out to Dia who's also the first self insert who started out as a homestuck OC and developed into a multiverse-hopping inventor, and it kills me every time I remember rick and morty exists cause I can't remember if I ripped them off or not.

[literaryavenger]

Hey there,mutual 🙋🏻‍♀️ I do have a request if you want it,but I think it's better if I send you the request via message,just wanted to make sure it's cool with you first? I actually saw the post where you opened requests like 5 minutes after you posted it but I got busy with preparations for Eid. I just got around to writing the request in my notes yesterday when I finally got time.

I'm so sorry to hear that you've been having writer's blocks. Must be exhausting to be unsatisfied with everything you wrote & constantly deleting hours of progress and hard work. I do write but only in my notes for only my eyes to see and I'm unsatisfied with most of them too. So I do understand how hard it is to write. But it's especially hard when you're facing the block and the block really does suck. But hey,at least you're posting your writings for the world to see & people are showing love to them,you're much braver than I am lol. If it helps,your works are great btw,I enjoyed reading them ❤

Also,I would love nothing more than a personalized fics with my real name in it,it sounds like a dream come true for readers like me 😍 But I'm afraid people will usually scroll past Character x OC or Characters x Named Reader fics and I don't want people to scroll past your hard work,your amazing writing. And I also don't want people knowing my real name. But I want to give it more thought. But this request that I got is not personalized tho,it's the usual x reader self insert one.

Hi, mutual! 😂💘

First of all, thank you so much for reading my fics, you're so sweet! I may be a little braver now, but for the longest time I wasn't. You can actually see in my page that I started by posting silly little incorrect quotes and the made my way up.

I actually went back to check my earlier fics and correct the mistakes and I can see how much better I got, largely because of the comments and constructive criticism I got from readers. It's a process, I'm still trying to get better but at least I'm trying. Baby steps.

Anyway, you can send the request if you want, I'm always open to it although it could take me a little to actually get it done between work and also just existing lol.

If you want a personalised fic with your name, I could also just write it for you and not post it or maybe send you the personalised one and then post a reader one with some details changed.

What's important is that I get writing, even the silliest of ideas, which helps me get inspired to do more.

I'd also like to say to anyone who already sent me requests that I've seen them all and I'm working on them. Even if it takes me some time, they're coming I promise!

[misty-zzz]

BROKEN TITANS AU

my msm au lol, 🤩🤩

Just some things I wanna say:

Some parts maybe similar to the fs AU, this au is inspired by the fs au. But most of the time, I thought of those parts before I got to read the similar parts. 

ANYWAYS, plz enjoy 😋😋

Tootoo is literally a self insert, I swear 

🌈☁️🌈☁️🌈☁️🌈☁️🌈☁️🌈☁️🌈☁️

    Tootoo wasn’ t the happiest today, a party for Sky Painting was going right outside the castle. She didn’t exactly like the fire works, or just being at a party in general. “I wish the party could just end…” complains the Tootoo. The party had been going on for hours. The door opens, Sooza enters the room, “ I hope the party isn’t too loud,” she says locking the door. “It’s alright Sooza, but how was it for you?” Asks Tootoo. Sooza plops onto the bottom part of the bunk bed they shared. “It was alright, mostly hanged out with pluckbill.”

      Tootoo gets back to what ever they were doing before. “Whatcha doing anyways?” Sooza climbs to the top bunk. “You’re making a lot of noise, and I can’t read my comic!” 

“I’m putting up these posters I drew,” drawings of Tootoo’s original characters hangs on the wall. “I forget that you’re a really good drawer.” Sooza gets up onto the bed. “What’s their name?” She points at an almost hoo-man like character. “That’s Delta, she’s a mix of a hoo-man and what the hoo-mans call, I think they’re called a dragon..?” It responds. “Well that’s very cool, but I think we should both go to sleep.” Sooza climbs back down, and gets to bed. 

     Tootoo wakes up. Everyone in the castle wakes up. Everyone on the island wakes up. A shift within the titan made everyone awakened. “Sooza, what was that…” Tootoo hangs off the edge of the bunk bed looking at her sister. “I don’t know, but I don’t want to check it out.” Tootoo thinks for a moment, “Well… you keep on being a Snooza, but I want to check it out.” Tootoo climbs down, with the soft bells from the shoes making that soft noise. “Be safe, dont die, or get lost…” 

     Tootoo walks outside, to see many more monster on light island crowded around trying to figure out what just happened. Monsters all spoke about their theories. Most monsters were convinced it was an earthquake. Even if it was a small one, Tootoo wasn’t fully convinced by this. “But Light island isnt on top of any tectonic plates…” mumbles Tootoo, remembering their lessons from school. So they go off away from this crowd. It was too loud anyways.

 She goes to the edge of the island. Near the eyes of phosphorus. She sits on the edge, they like to have her legs dangle, but was also scared that she might fall off into the endless ocean below. Tootoo’s hands feel groves and cracks. “This island is one of the younger islands. It shouldn’t have this many cracks at this age…” She traces the cracks, which seemed to form from the eyes, and they where opened…

I hoped you like this au im working on!!!

sorry if there’s any mistakes

[necroangelz]

💉

as angel writes hir response to this emoji shi is also rushing hir project due to making a dumb decision 5hrs ago that led to the most easily avoidable mistake ever (send help)

『 💉 』

a kin memory

for the most part my memories as sunny are similar to the game. my appearance (and mari's) are one big difference, but another huge difference is what my headspace was like.

in my childhood, i often played an alternate universe variation of dungeons and dragons (it had a different name and some changes in mechanics, etc but at its core its basically dnd) with the whole group. we really bonded over dnd. we made lots of different characters (they were cringe but in an unapologetic, carefree, tween-kids-beloved-oc kind of way, n some characters totally wernet just self inserts of ourselves but cooler) but we all had that One character we got super attached to and spent more time developing than the rest

although i can't remember who was our dm ... we took turns being the dm in different oneshots but idk who our main dm was, yk? it couuuuldve been me bc i had more fun watching my friends play and building the world around them than being part of the action itself. it would make sense that i was the dm

anyway, this had a considerable impact on my headspace. our headspace versions were like a mixed version of our dnd characters and our childhood selves. locations and characters in HS were based on things from our campaign. everything was still based on my childhood memories and nostalgia, but with the dnd campaign mixed in and high fantasy aesthetics thrown over everywhere

obviously im very interested in this part of my sunny timeline and i would love to do something to draw out more related memories, now if i just had the time and the actual motivation to get started on doing that "something" ....

[rjalker]

Here's my Flatland self insert character in a humanoid design. still making the canon-compliant version since it's not symetrical and also the power keeps flickering.

Editing the draft to say wow. Okay. This image description has now taken six hours to write because the power went out for five of them and my keyboard kept being messed up before that. Lol.

Enjoy. Assuming the power doesn't go out again before I can hit the post button.

Please tell me if the ID is missing any details, I've spent too long reading it to catch mistakes.

And yes, it picked its name itself.

[ID: An MS Paint character reference showing a Flatland style original character. The image has a white background and thin black border, with the date of "August 29th 2023" written in the lower right corner. Black text scattered around the image provides extra info for the things displayed, in an old-fashioned looking font with all caps letters and sharply curved lettering. The character's name is Hauntlight, and it uses it/its/itself pronouns.

"Literal", which is a black forked like with many small zig-zags making it crooked rather than straight, and "Humanoid", showing a stick figure with three legs, two arms, a round head, and another line straight on top of the head.

A small bullet point list in the bottom left corner reads: "Class: Criminal Job: Herbalist Age: 28 Orientation: Aroace Gender: Nunya" The character is vaguely humanoid in shape, with ink black skin with dark brown stripes on the ankles and elbows, a brown heart shape in the center of its chest, and three pairs of matching brown, stripes under the heart to form a rib cage, with the top pair of stripes overlapping with the heart on their points. Hauntlight has two arms and three legs, each bent slightly at the knee as though floating in the air. Its head is topped with a sharp point with a swooping, narrow base over its onion-shaped face, with a single large orange eye with a brown slit pupil in the center. It is first shown facing the camera, then turned to show its back, which matches the front. White cracks are visible on its hip, ankle, foot, shoulders, chest, and wrist. With its hands behind its back, Hauntlight holds a bright orange and yellow offset walking cane, which is labeled, "mobility aids required to be flourescent to aid persecution by higher classes". Two slightly smaller copies of its head show it first squinting, making it appear angry, with a question mark next to its face, labeled, "squinting because it's not allowed to wear eyeglass and it can't see". The next shows it with its eye widened again to normal, now looking off to the side. Around its eye are two circles of black and yellow, held onto its head by a bright orange diagonal strap, forming a giant monocular or single-lensed goggle. This is labeled, "Breaking the law, breaking the law".

In the top right corner, the different colors used in the drawing--black, brown, orange, and yellow--are arrayed in circles and rectangles. Two copies have been made of its three legs, with the copy for each showing the third leg recolored blue so that it is easier to see, because its skin is so dark it almost matches the black outlines. End ID.]

anyways can you believe they literally refer to disabled people as the Criminal Class™. And can you further believe there are people who read this book's blatant criticism of fascism and think the fascism is correct?!?!?!

Edit: Feel free to draw :)

[1autistictacticalrefrigerator]

A Love Like This ❤️

( I decided to make a long soapghost fic?? Dunno how this’ll go, but buckle up for the wild ride ig 🥱 )

Character backstories may be modified to fit the story!

KNOW THE CHARACTERS! (These are the main characters // characters that have set roles)

Soap 🧼 - Pizza Delivery Guy

Gaz - Pizza Delivery Guy’s Friend (also is a pizza delivery guy)

Price - CEO of the uhh pizza place yes🗿

Ghost 💀 - The boogie man under yo bed, just kidding! He’s the monster ;)

( Maybe a self insert?? Idk yet. )

——————————————————————————————————————————————

Soap was just your average pizza delivery guy, the only thing that was unique about him in his opinion was fear doesn’t exist in his world. After retiring from the military, he settled for a quiet, safe life. But he was still full of energy, after all- he isn’t that old yet. And this deadly energy is EXACTLY what put him in this situation.

Ghost was hungry, he was curious so he decided to try human food instead of eating the human itself. Hm? What was this? “Pizza Delivery”…? Sounds interesting. Maybe Ghost would take a stab at it.

——————————————————————————————————————————————

“Over here!” Gaz called as Soap pulls back into the pizza place parking lot.

“Oh hey Gaz,” Soap says as he gets off.

“We’ve got two more orders then Price said we’re done for today. You take one and I take the other.” Gaz said as he hands a pizza box to Soap, who accepts it.

“Hey, Gaz?” Soap says as Gaz turns around to get into his car.

Gaz turns around at the mention of his name. “Yeah?”

“Race you, whoever delivers their order first and gets back gets twenty bucks from loser.” Soap grins, already sliding into the driver’s seat.

He could hear Gaz cry out, “HEY! NOT FAIR!” and struggling to get into his own car as Soap takes off.

Soap loved to have these little competitions with Gaz- it makes up for the boringness of the civilian life. Normally Soap would crank up the music on the radio and jam to it as he drive to the customer’s house, but Soap couldn’t help but find the address of the customer… strange, to say the least. Soap shakes his head as he pulls up to the supposed “house” the customer was in. The twenty bucks was his.

Only when Soap finally steps outside the car with the pizza in hand, did he realize something was very off with this crumbling building.. he frowns. He could feel his skin getting goosebumps but no clue why-

One thing he knew was, in the military years, he’s developed keen senses for when there’s danger. And Soap was sure that sense is telling him he’s in danger. So Soap does what every not-sane person would do, and walks towards the poor excuse of a building.

The front door was barricaded shut, so Soap had to resort to the alley-way backdoor. Who the fuck barricades their front door shut??

As Soap rounds the corner, the symbols written all around and over the door could be seen.

“The hell is this?” Soap asks.

As he approached the door, there was no mistake; those symbols weren’t just drawn onto the wall- it was embedded into it. They even faintly glow.. but Soap could feel it’s magic power. He finds himself gripping the delivery tighter.

There was no doorbell, so Soap knocks…

..no answer.

So Soap knocks again.

..still no answer.

After a few more knocks, a shout, and some waiting- Soap had enough. He wasn’t a patient man anyway. And thats how he finds himself opening the door. At first only wanting to try it, but turns out it was unlocked.

Something strange was on the other side of the doorway however, it wasn’t your typical home entrance. In fact, everything was pitch black- Soap couldn’t see a damn thing! He squints his eyes but get nothing as well. The little bit of light filtering through the alleyway never made it inside either.. and now that Soap thought about it- the windows were all boarded up too.

This is SO fucking sketchy. Soap’s brain tells him.

But Soap in the flesh only shrugs it off, he’s been in the military. Probably have seen worse than this- though, it was still eerie. Since Soap already opened the door, he steps inside the house. Except he never steps inside the house. The floor starts sinking in on him.

“What the fu-uaaAAAHH!” Soap screams as he falls through the floor. Wait.. through? What the hell??

Soap kept falling- everywhere around him pitch black. He was falling into oblivion.

So this is how I’m gonna die. Falling forever and ever into a void that’ll swallow me alive. Soap thought dramatically.

However he didn’t. He didn’t keep falling forever and ever like he anticipated- he actually meets rock bottom a short while afterwards. Surprisingly landing on the pitch black floor didn’t hurt at all.. was this magic..?

“OOF!” Nevertheless Soap lands with a THUD.

As Soap was regaining his footing, cursing to himself, he looks up and meets the eyes of a monster. If Soap was a sane man, he would’ve opened his mouth to scream- but he wasn’t. And he knew it. The monster was fucking cool. Around 6 feet- Soap guessed. Red eyes, black flames to substitute the missing body, and a skull on it’s face.

Soap was just about to speak when the monster spoke first. “Didn’t think humans can ever be this noisy..”

Quickly Soap stands up. “Oh hello. Uh.. order number-“

“Does it matter..?” The monster asks.

“Huh..? Does what matter?” Soap asks, puzzled.

“What the order is.”

“Well yea,” Soap explains, “So we know it’s you who ordered the delivery. What- trying to strike up a conversation?” Soap adds playfully.

“No..” The monster responds flatly. “Just give me my food.”

“Nuh-uh! Not so fast. Gotta pay first!” Soap chirps, extending his hand for the money.

“…” The monster finally snaps his fingers after a moment of silence. Money pops out of thin air. Soap was intrigued. “Here..” It says, handing Soap the money.

“Thanks. No tip?” Soap asks hopefully, handing the pizza over to the tall being in front of him.

“No tip.” It says sternly.

“Fine.” Soap huffs, but realized that’s probability a little too childish sounding, and settles for a, “Nah, I mean its all good. Can I get a name at least?”

“Why..”

“Oh. No particular reason. Just felt like asking- sorry.” Soap apologizes. That probably sounded a little creepy- Soap thought- to ask for a stranger’s name like that.

The monster paused for a moment before replying briefly with “Ghost.”

No further conversations. Immediately Soap felt like he was being forcefully expelled from the realm he was currently in, and coughed back up into the alleyway. The feeling of a hole being torn in the very fabric of the green plant’s reality still lingers though.

“Rude.” Soap grumbles before patting himself down, trying to get rid of any potential wrinkles in his pants or shirt.

Maybe it was the more unhinged and dangerous side of his brain telling him he wanted to see that monster again- but that was all he could think about as he drove back.

PT 1 END.

(OMG ITS FINALLY OUT. Sorry it took a while, I’m feeling better so I decide to finish this today. And uh.. yeah. Don’t mind any grammar errors. I just want to get this out and be fucking done with it. Also this story’ll be posted in parts! So I hope you like it so far and I’ll see you in part two! ❤️)

[goodbyeapathy8]

Court jester (Tankhun character study)

[Spoilers abound for ch 12 of Sunflower School of Delinquents]

In my newest fic, the Sunflower School of Delinquents, when I wrote "expect canon reversals" I truly meant that from the get go.

Readers may have noticed but there has been a ton of Porsche slander and it's been on purpose.

I made Porsche a mirror character for canonical Tankhun.

In this story, because Tankhun isn't the court jester - flamboyant, silly, but always with a grain of truth and the most perceptive out of all of them - it had to be Porsche.

There's something that fascinates me about Porsche being the golden boy that fell from grace. I imagined that as a pre-canon version of Tankhun - the tall, graceful heir. He's obviously quite smart as well.

Hence why Porsche in this story was described to be intelligent, which he himself references in Chapter 9, "Everyone thinks I’m stupid but it’s the trauma, I promise.”

(Self-insert here but my photographic memory used to be scarily good, before my C-PTSD. Trauma can change your very DNA.)

If Porsche had grown up with resources, he would have had the hubris and arrogance, given his looks and talents.

Tong playing Tankhun makes that easily believable, for me.

Post-trauma, Porsche is seemingly absent-minded (Pete makes a few remarks about his lack of situational awareness) and someone to be protected, rather than the person doing the protection.

To me, that's very much Tankhun as well, as seen in canon.

The failure to be the perfect heir weighs heavily on the eldest sons.

I think there's a certain pressure to "have your shit together". You become the person that worries about everything and anything.

The freedom to be stupid is what they lean into - to make as many mistakes as they want because no one expects anything from them anymore. There's also a comfort in being the person that people worry about, instead of vice versa.

Tankhun in this story reverts more to a childlike state whereas Porsche acts as an adult (references to being slutty) but not someone that can be taken seriously.

Anyway... before I make this into a babbling essay, let me get back to writing the actual story ^^;;