#anyways it's all making sense to me right now

[whosashan]

Silent Treatmeant

How I think the LaDS men would react to being given the silent treatment by you!

Xavier

Xavier is a patient man—truly, he is. He’s long grown accustomed to your peculiar ways, your little oddities. At times, he struggles to make sense of your antics, yet somehow, that only makes you all the more endearing to him.

The two of you sat across from each other on the couch in your apartment, the dim glow of the television flickering across your faces. The faint scent of vanilla lingering in the air from a candle burning on the coffee table, mixing with the remnants of popcorn and the intoxicating scent of your lover. A movie played—a familiar pastime for the both of you whenever time allowed with your busy schedules. You stole a glance at him, watching the way he sipped on the drink you had made earlier, fingers loosely curled around the mug, his gaze fixed on the screen. The rhythmic tapping of his fingers against the ceramic told you he was completely absorbed.

It was only when he finally noticed your unwavering stare that he turned to meet your gaze. And for a brief moment, he could have sworn that if looks could kill, he’d already be dead.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, tilting his head slightly. Concern laced his voice, reflected in the blue of his eyes. Ironically, the sight of his worry only seemed to frustrate you further.

Since the moment he arrived, he had barely paid you any attention, too caught up in the film to acknowledge you properly. It was frustrating—how could he? He should be paying attention to you, not some cliché movie about time travel. The urge to turn it off crossed your mind, but you decided not to do that. You didn’t want him to notice how irritated you were.

Instead of answering, you merely turned your gaze back to the screen, feigning indifference. Even then, you could feel his eyes lingering on you, his confusion palpable.

The couch dipped slightly as he shifted closer, his warmth seeping into your skin. The space between you shrank, yet you remained still, stubborn in your silence.

"Baby..." His voice was soft, coaxing, and it took every ounce of restraint not to let your resolve crumble right then and there. His touch, his tone—it all made your heart ache in the most infuriating way. But pride held you firm, so you continued to ignore him.

And then, without warning, you felt him nuzzle into the crook of your neck, breathing you in as if he could commit your scent to memory. A shiver ran through you, your body tensing for a split second before surrendering to his warmth. He placed a slow, deliberate kiss just below your jaw.

"Talk to me." His voice had taken on a firmer edge now, more insistent, though still laced with quiet desperation.

When silence was his only answer, he did something unexpected. A sharp sting bloomed against your neck. He had bitten you.

"Xavier!" you gasped, jolting in surprise.

"So you do hear me," he murmured, exhaling softly, almost as if in relief.

You turned to face him at last, pouting. He was smiling—just barely—but there was no mistaking the satisfaction in his expression. He had won. He always did, you could never truly say no to him.

"Will you finally tell me what's on your mind, princess?" The pet name sent butterflies straight to your stomach, quickening your heartbeat.

A beat of silence passed before you relented, arms crossing in defiance. "You're not paying any attention to me. You’ve been glued to that movie this whole time—what's so fascinating about it, anyway?"

A quiet chuckle rumbled from his chest. He pressed a lingering kiss to your cheek before pulling you into his embrace, his arms winding securely around you.

"Then I suppose I’ll just have to make it up to you," he murmured. "Starting now."

Zayne

"Darling."

Zayne’s voice drifted through the quiet apartment, low and slightly hoarse—a telltale sign that he hadn’t been awake for long. It was a rare morning where neither of you had to rush off to work, a quiet reprieve from the usual chaos.

And yet, you remained silent.

Utter disbelief rooted you in place. The audacity. The betrayal. The pastries you had been looking forward to all night, the ones you had carefully chosen to enjoy with your morning coffee, were gone—devoured by none other than your sweet-toothed lover.

Under normal circumstances, it might have been a minor grievance, something to brush off with a sigh and a shake of your head. But after the past few days of relentless stress at work, this was simply the final straw.

You wouldn’t take it out on him, of course. He hadn’t known. It wasn’t his fault.

So instead, you ignored him. Well, at least until you calmed your nerves down.

Rather than making coffee, you opted for tea, hoping it might ease your irritation. You moved through the kitchen quietly, the warm mug cradled in your hands, its steam curling up toward your face.

And then—familiar hands.

Zayne’s arms wrapped around your waist, his touch effortlessly grounding, the press of his lips against the top of your head unbearably tender. He always had a way of melting through your defenses before you even realized it was happening.

His voice, smooth and deliberate, broke the silence. "Is something troubling you?" He rested his chin on your shoulder, his breath warm against your skin.

Still, you said nothing.

He shifted slightly, gently turning you to face him. His dark hair was still tousled from sleep, and his eyes, half-lidded and heavy with lingering drowsiness, studied you with quiet curiosity. And for a moment, you faltered. He looked devastatingly good like this—soft and unguarded in the early morning light.

But then, the memory of your missing pastries resurfaced.

"Did I do something to upset you?" His tone remained even, but there was an unmistakable thread of concern woven beneath his usual stoicism. He reached for your free hand, the one not cradling your tea, and brought it to his cheek. His lips brushed over your wrist, something he has done countless times before, his touch effortlessly affectionate, yet it made your heart flutter, gaze softening.

You sighed. This man was going to be the death of you.

"You ate my pastries." Your voice was flat, your brows pulling together in a small frown.

A beat of silence. Then, understanding dawned in his expression.

"Ah," he murmured. "I see."

His grip on your hand didn’t loosen as he met your gaze, unshaken as ever. "I sincerely apologize, love. Allow me to make it up to you—come out with me, and I’ll buy you as many pastries as your heart desires."

You narrowed your eyes slightly. "Are you attempting to bribe me, Dr. Zayne?"

A ghost of a smile played at the corner of his lips, the closest thing to amusement you would get from him this early in the morning.

"Is it working?"

*Is it?*

Rafayel

It was the third time this month that Rafayel had summoned you to his studio under the guise of an "emergency."

And, just like the last two times, there was no real emergency—just another one of his elaborate attempts to steal your attention.

Normally, his antics would have made you smile, maybe even laugh. You’d always found his dramatic nature endearing, his endless need for your presence almost charming. But work had been relentless lately, stretching you thin. The days blurred together in a mess of exhaustion, your mind too preoccupied with tasks and responsibilities to indulge him as easily as before.

The first time, you found it amusing. The second, you let it slide. After all, how could you deny your lover a bit of attention? But now, standing in the middle of his paint-streaked studio, his so-called "emergency" nothing more than an empty excuse, you could feel frustration simmering beneath your skin.

"Y/N!" Rafayel’s voice carried through the room, laced with exaggerated despair as he reached for your hand, his fingers wrapping around your wrist before you could step out the door.

You paused but said nothing.

His grip tightened just slightly, his expression shifting into something almost comically wounded. "Are you actually mad at me?" He blinked at you, as if the very idea was beyond comprehension. It was clear he hadn't considered that disrupting your work might genuinely frustrate you.

You turned to face him, your expression firm. The moment his gaze met yours, he pouted—a soft, almost theatrical downturn of his lips that tugged at your heart despite your irritation.

Damn him.

You sighed, tearing your eyes away and attempting to leave again, but Rafayel wasn’t having it. His hold on your wrist remained firm, his grip gentle but insistent.

"Wait—I'm sorry!" His voice pitched slightly in alarm, his usual playful demeanor faltering as he scrambled to fix the situation. "I didn’t mean to make you mad. I just…" He hesitated, shoulders slumping slightly. "I just wanted to see you."

There was something so utterly boyish about the way he said it—so completely unguarded. You could hear the pout in his voice even without looking at him.

You exhaled slowly, some of your frustration ebbing away.

"Rafayel…" you murmured, your voice softer now. Turning back to him, you reached up, cupping his face in your hands. He leaned into your touch instinctively, his paint-smudged fingers ghosting over your own.

"I'm not mad that you want to spend time with me," you reassured him gently. "But you can’t keep making up emergencies when you know I’m working. It’s not fair, love."

His brows knit together, guilt flickering across his features.

You huffed out a small laugh. "I’ll take a day off soon, and when I do, I’ll be all yours. No interruptions, I promise."

The transformation was instant. His entire face lit up, joy replacing every trace of guilt as he all but tackled you into his embrace, arms wrapping around you like he never wanted to let go.

"You swear it?" His voice was muffled against your shoulder.

"I swear."

Rafayel pulled back just enough to grin at you, that familiar spark of mischief returning to his gaze. "Good. Because I already have about ten different date ideas, and I expect full participation."

You chuckled, shaking your head. "Of course you do."

And just like that, your frustration melted away.

Sylus

You sat in Sylus' kitchen, at the grand kitchen island, indulging in whatever you felt like having at that moment, though the food did little to ease the frustration simmering beneath your skin.

Mephisto had been following you again.

The mechanical crow had a way of appearing when you least expected it, its glowing eyes tracking your every move like an ever-present specter. It unsettled you, always lingering just at the edge of your vision, a silent observer in the shadows. You even found him in your apartament once, still wondering how he got there.

You had spoken to Sylus about it more times than you could count, but the man seemed utterly unbothered, amused even, by your grievances.

“Are you planning to ignore me all day, sweet girl?” His deep, velvety voice broke through the silence, laced with the usual undertones of amusement. “I’ve already told you—Mephisto has simply taken an extreme liking to you.”

You clenched your jaw, fighting the urge to roll your eyes, and instead busied yourself with your meal. When that wasn’t enough of a distraction, you reached for your phone, scrolling aimlessly through the screen in an attempt to block out his presence.

But Sylus was nothing if not persistent.

You could feel his gaze on you—heavy, assessing, waiting. The subtle heat of his presence grew nearer, the faint scent of his cologne—dark spice and expensive leather—curling around you.

Then, effortlessly, he plucked the phone from your hands.

Your head snapped up, a scowl already settling on your face as you turned to glare at him. He, of course, remained entirely unruffled. A slow smirk curled his lips, and before you could snatch your device back, he tucked it into his pocket.

“You’ll get it back once you decide to talk to me.” He settled onto the stool beside you, elbow resting against the marble, his posture entirely relaxed as he watched your reaction with open amusement.

You huffed, turning away without a word. If he thought this was going to be enough to pull a response from you, he was sorely mistaken.

But you had underestimated Sylus.

The moment you stepped away, you felt his hand catch your waist, firm yet effortless, and in one fluid motion, he pulled you back against him. Your breath hitched as you collided with his chest, the warmth of his body pressing into yours, the scent of him dizzying.

He sighed against your ear, low and indulgent. “You’re being difficult.”

You scoffed, trying to ignore the heat creeping up your neck.

“I do not wish to be followed and monitored by your mechanical crow. I am perfectly capable of looking after myself, thank you very much.”

Sylus hummed, his fingers still resting against your waist as he turned you to face him. His expression remained unreadable, though there was something in his dark gaze—something knowing, something teasing.

“I know you are,” he said smoothly. “Alright, I’ll tell him to tone it down.”

Your brows furrowed, your skepticism evident, but you knew this was the best concession you would get from him.

“You’re terrible,” you muttered, though there was no real venom behind it.

He chuckled, his arms slipping around you fully, pulling you against him in a slow, deliberate embrace.

“Whatever you say, sweetie.”

Caleb

The apartment was warm, bathed in the soft glow of dimmed lights, the scent of home-cooked food still lingering in the air. Rain tapped gently against the windowpanes, a quiet backdrop to the clinking of dishes as Caleb moved around the kitchen, tidying up after dinner.

You sat at the dinner table, absently poking at the meal he had made you, though your appetite had long faded. Something gnawed at you, a strange ache settling in your chest that you couldn’t quite shake.

Caleb, of course, noticed immediately.

"You’re looking at that food like it personally offended you," he quipped, glancing over his shoulder. "What’s wrong, pipsqueak?"

You didn’t answer.

Your frown deepened as you idly pushed your fork against the plate, the silence between you stretching just a little too long.

The sound of running water cut off. Moments later, he was at your side, kneeling beside your chair, bringing himself to your eye level. His presence was steady, familiar—the scent of his cologne mixed with something undeniably Caleb.

Then—poke.

His finger prodded your cheek, once, twice, thrice, in an attempt to get a reaction out of you. Anything. He hated seeing you like this, all quiet and brooding.

"Guess you’re not that talkative now, huh?" His voice was teasing, but his eyes—warm and intent—searched your face for answers. The boyish grin he wore, the same one that had always made your heart falter just a little, did nothing to ease your mood.

You sighed, your gaze drifting—away from him, away from his teasing expression—to his neck. Bare.

The necklace. His necklace. Your necklace. The one you had given him, the one he always wore.

It wasn’t there.

He caught the flicker of emotion that crossed your face, and just like that, he understood. Of course, he did. He had known you for too long, had memorized every little shift in your expression, every mannerism that gave you away.

“I took it off while I was at work,” he admitted, watching you carefully. “Left it in my uniform and forgot to bring it with me.”

Your lips pressed into a thin line.

"But it’s safe," he reassured, reaching up to tousle your hair with a careless grin. “I’ll make sure to bring it next time, okay? Don’t pout on me now.”

You winced. “Caleb! I just washed my hair!”

And just like that, the tension was gone, washed away as you swatted at him in protest. His grin widened as he swiftly dodged your hands, the shift in your mood exactly what he had been aiming for.

The next thing you knew, you were chasing him through the apartment, the air filled with your laughter as he weaved through the furniture, just out of reach.

"Alright, alright, truce!" He lifted his hands in surrender, though the smirk on his lips told you he had no intention of actually stopping.

For now, the necklace was forgotten. For now, there was only this—the warmth, the laughter, the easy way he pulled you back in, just like he always did.

[tinythebunni]

How bunnyprincess!reader and Rafe met!!

inspired by @rafesangelita @princessbrunette

Rafe always came to the country club on the weekends and on Wednesdays to play golf with his friends. He wore a polo every time and always had his shoes shined pristine. Rafe usually ended up winning and afterwards he’d go inside to sit by the bar or swim in the pool.

After a long and tedious match, Rafe ended up losing. He wasn’t completely locked in on the match due to the argument with Rose this morning.

Walking inside and huffing a sigh, he took off his shirt and slouched in the lounge chair with Kelce and Topper joining him. Rafe ran his hand through his sweaty buzzed hair and used his shirt to wipe his head. He closed his eyes, zoning out the stupid conversation around him.

his head was fucking pounding and their nonsensical ramblings made him even more and more irritated. pinching the bridge of his nose he sighed as he heard someone walking over to them. probably one of those fucking bartenders, he thought to himself.

Rafe was ready to just up and leave at this point but then he noticed 3 things. He could smell the sweet scent of your perfume. Smelled of cupcakes and the sugar cookies his mom would make. Your voice sounded of honey drizzling. And when he opened his eyes, his lashes flutter at how beautiful you were.

“Hai guys! The usual?” you spoke as you pulled out your notepad. your eyes did a sweep over the three guys in front of you, lingering a bit on him. Rafe was very fucking confused, he’d never seen you before and he definitely would know.

Kelce went to open his mouth but Rafe was faster than him. “What’s your name?” He spoke, sounding a little more angry than he meant to.

“Oh i’m sorry if i interrupted your nap, i just know that these two like to-“ He cut you off once more.

“Forget about it bun, ‘m not worried bout it. last fucking thing on my mind right now.”

you blushed and blinked, wide eyed. You told him your name, pen resting on your lip as you looked at him. He introduced himself to you and stood. he towered over you, which was unusual. being tall yourself, you often felt like a giant compared to most guys on the island.

Rafe smirked at your reaction, a laugh bubbling out his throat. You could sense the God inside him, aching to be let out. Maybe you were a bit dramatic but you’re just a teenage girl!

Stepping closer to you, he put his hand on your hip and turned you so that you were right next to him. He slid his hand to the small of your back, whispering a quick come with me to you before turning around and smiling at the boys.

“Rafe come on! Ya can’t keep stealing the pretty girls.” Topper yelled in exasperation, throwing his hands up.

Rafe chuckled before saying something that made your heart flutter. “You don’t gotta worry bout that no more. I want to keep this one. Make her mine and all that” he replied.

As he lead you away to a table in the corner, he asked you little questions. Mainly about your love life, what you were doing at this bar. “girl like you should never have to work. too pretty for all that shit” He added, watching as you glanced down as if your shoes were the most interesting thing in the world.

his thumb tilted your head up and you looked away nervously. “Hey hey. none of that shit. Look at me.” You did as he said, not wanting to lose his attention. “you should have someone providing for you. So you can do all that girly shit yall like and not worry about it.” He watched as you smiled, eating up your reaction. His tounge darts out to swipe at his bottom lip before he speaks again.

“I could be that for you. All my money just rots in my fucking bank account anyways. You want me to be that for you? Could be your boyfriend. Keep your tummy full, nails done, and make you feel good. Whenever you need it.” His words made you flush, your chest blooming with nerves and anxiety. But in the best way possible.

You nodded, your eyes a bit glossy at the casual dominance. You’d always been one to prefer when people take charge about certain things. And this? it was perfect. “Yea. I’d really like dat Rafe.” You stepped closer, making a move. You placed your hand on his chest and stood on your tip toes to kiss his cheek. “Can you wait for me to finish my shift? It’s over in 30 and I wanna talk to you more” you pouted trying to win him over as you regained your confidence.

“Fuck yea!” he said a little too excited. “I mean, yea yea for sure.” he corrected, nodding his head and he turned on his heel. You watched him walk away, noticing the slight bounce in his step.

[thepitlanepress]

SPORTS CAR [2] –

↳ lando norris + singer!piastri!reader

⌗ :: masterlist

⌗ :: a/n: ok im lazy so its the same intro pics. also in my head sports car = lando like i dont make the rules. a little something before i go on break for a whileee

⌗ :: pt1 ,, a bet not so bad ,,

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ynofficial

liked by oscarpiastri, mclaren, landonorris, gracieabrams, charles_leclerc, and 7, 862, 946 others

ynofficial and yet another post that has no cohesion (or explanation) and yet im posting it anyway :)

view all comments

user1 ok so.. my jaw dropped.

user2 the entire grid posting about this in one morning im unwell.

user3 why is there a photo of lando.... why is he featuring more than the others...

f1 it was lovely to see everyone awake and together against their will this morning

ynoffical it was totally worth the 4am start

user4 f1 admin how i love you

user5 this post makes no sense yet so much sense at the same time

user6 my thoughts are simply lanyn

landonorris how dare u post that picture of me

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ynofficial

liked by oscarpiastri, landonorris, gracieabrams, taylorswift, and 3, 282, 640 others

ynofficial we're so back baby!!! hello londonnn

view all comments

landonorris have u decided yet?

ynofficial tf leave me alone lando

landonorris i just want an answer excuse me

user1 ur right i want answer to whatever this is about

user2 i literally died the show was my favourite thing in existence

user3 and if i sobbed bc i didn't get tickets

user4 im still waiting for an answer to the 27 posts from the drivers and her

user5 release another song from the album PLEASE

ynofficial sooon 😉

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landonorris

liked by oscarpiastri, mclaren, ynofficial, and 5, 924, 682 others

landonorris im your guy, i wont waste your time, lets go ride, lets go ride

view all comments

user1 LIVES WERE CHANGED

user2 unfortunately im going to need answers NOW

oscarpiastri no.

landonorris yes.

ynofficial stop.

ynofficial u nearly tipped the cart for that photo, you still owe me a favour for that

landonorris its not forgotten if you say yes.

oscarpiastri say no

landonorris you're not apart of this

oscarpiastri i am now

user3 SAY YES TO WHAT?!?!?!

user4 im starting a lanyn support group for all of the emotional turmoil you're putting us through

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f1unofficial

liked by 642, 984 others

f1unofficial y/n l/n and lando norris were seen leaving a wedding this weekend in between y/n's famous tour, when they were asked what they were doing, y/n responded with "i lost a bet and an argument with him so i had no choice"

view all comments

user1 its bad, im getting updates from f1unofficial oh god help me

user2 they just need to announce that they're in love and getting married to the world and everything will be right again

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ynofficial

liked by oscarpiastri, landonorris, gracieabrams, oliviarodrigo, f1, and 3, 282, 640 others

ynofficial a little something while u wait for the album... sports car out now ! go check out the mv <3

view all comments

user1 i need two to seven work days to recover from the music video

user2 she had ALL the drivers feature??? the power.

user3 no no back up WHY WAS LANDO POSTING THESE LYRICS DAYS BEFORE?????

user5 GIVE ME ANSWERS PLEASE

landonorris i stole the show in the mv

user4 shut up im still not over her going to ur mom's vow renewal

oscarpiastri the only time i'll ever accept u driving in a ferrari or a mercedes

ynofficial i drove a mclaren too??

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𐔌 . ⋮ 🏷️ tags .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

@arqbella, @taylorrrrrrrrrrswiftttt, @stilesks, @prudyhoo, @cherry-piee, @aeplandos

2025 © thepitlanepress | please do not steal, use, translate or repost any of my works

– comments and reblogs appreciated

[thebestsetter]

Rin likes black.

Call him emo or depressed or cringe or whatever works best for you. He uses ONLY black things.

His shirts are all black. He shows up to practice wearing the team's black kit. His car is black. He answered a interview saying that his favorite color was black (although he disliked the question and thought it was unecessary - he's here to talk about football, goddammit!) Hell, even the Keychain on his black backpack is a black and white sad face.

He likes black. Actually, scratch that. He loves it.

So, his team can't help but feel confused when he suddenly comes to practice with the team's pink kit, which he swore ("cross my heart and hope to die" kind of thing) that he'd NEVER wear. He even said it was because you accidentally washed it during laundry day it was still not dry. (Ha. As if. He had like 10 of those).

And then he came with that same kit the other day. And the day after that. And the day after that day too.

And, suddenly, things weren't so black anymore.

His backpack, which now was adorned with pink hello kitty stickers, had a smiley pink and white Keychain attached next to the black and white one. His car had pink details on the leather seats, and his shoes were black and pink.

It was strange, to say the least. That was until they couldn't really take it anymore. Seeing a pink hair tie around his wrist hut the final nail in the coffin.

"So... uhm... Rin." Isagi started, Bachira and Nagi curiously watching behind him "If I remember correctly, you said before your favorite color is black, right?"

"It is" Rin deadpanned.

An uncomfortable silence settled between them while Rin waited for Isagi to answer and Isagi waited for him to say something else. It was quickly interrupted by Bachira's excited "Ask already!"

"But... uhm... I see you took a liking to... pink things. Why's that?"

"Oh" Rin clearly wasn't expecting this question. He stared into Isagi's eyes and then looked down to tie his shoelaces "I don't like pink"

"Huh?" Nagi made a noise behind them, and just then did Rin notice those two

"But you have lots of pink things now!" Bachira said, getting behind Itoshi and shaking his shoulders, obtaining an eyeroll from him

"I dislike pink" he shook Bachira's hands off and sighed "I wear it only because my girlfriend loves it"

"Fair enough!"

"Oh."

"Okay, well, that actually makes sense

"Owwnnn, is Rinnie so in love with his girlfriend that he wear pink just for her?" Seriously, who called Shidou here anyways?

But what made Rin hate him even more was the fact that he was right. He did wear pink only for you.

He was getting tired of you nagging at him for only having black shirts (and he also loved your smiling face when you saw him dressed like a Barbie doll, but that's on second thought or at least he likes to pretend it is.)

Don't get me wrong, black is still his favorite color. But you're his favorite thing in the whole world, so take a guess on who wins this one.

Black: 0

You: 1

Quick note: Rin loves when these two things are together. So imagine his reaction to you on a black dress on your 1 year anniversary. Bro almost fainted.

I hate school somebody HELP ME

Not proofread cause I'm sleepy and lazy. Deal with it.

[nyxelestia]

I have an addition to this but that will require some addendums / additional points.

This got a lil long so I threw the rest under the cut but tl;dr

The interrelation and complexity of marginalized identities irl makes authors' usage of them as protective labels on content counterproductive and discourages community and empathy.

Either don't mention your identity, or at most save it for the author's note instead of the tag when it's a contribution instead of a protection.

We don't need to hide what parts of ourselves inform our writing, but we do need to avoid normalizing the sharing of personal information to justify writing choices.

Too Long But Reading Anyway:

I know the degradation of privacy is getting normalized everywhere else on the Internet, but that sounds like all the more reason to avoid dragging that new norm into fandom.

A lot of this comes from the fear of making mistakes in public. After all, many fans (especially young one) grew up with the hyper-awareness that damn near their entire lives -- or at least their entire lives since entering social media -- would be documented and therefore could be dragged up from the depths of the past and used against you. People are trying to achieve "perfection" not for a sense of superiority, but a sense of safety; "if I do everything right, no one can call me out." I'm telling you right now, bullies don't work that way. They'll find a way to twist anything and everything into harassment campaigns. It is much better to be willing to write outside your lived experiences, to learn and grow, to own up to any mistakes you do make, and be ready to tell anyone who tries to castigate you for mistakes you didn't make to go screw themselves.

A lot of these identities are fluid. Maybe you're still trying to figure out your sexuality or gender, maybe you'll convert religions, maybe you'll discover something new about your heritage, maybe you will be able to treat your disability such that you won't have it in the future, etc. The fact that your identity might change in the future doesn't change your past, so it doesn't affect why you are putting that label for yourself on a fic…but, it does mean that if some bully wants to cause you trouble, they can absolutely turn around and use this against you. Just throwing this out there as a follow-up to both the first and the second points.

Being close to or part of a marginalized group doesn't give you carte blanch to write whatever you want. You can absolutely be part of a marginalized group and also perpetuate stereotypes or problematic tropes. (e.x. Transformative fandom is heavily dominated by women, yet so much of the het fanfiction is also saturated with sexist or downright misogynistic tropes. Obviously, being part of the marginalized identity group didn't help anyone writing that marginalized identity group. This is just the most prolific example but hardly the only one.) And that's if your own marginalization really matches the character's to begin with. Some axes of marginalization are incredibly vast (ethnic experiences and disabilities come to mind) and encompass a wide variety of identities, so being part of one doesn't give you magical insight into all the rest.

I feel like this also ignores the way identities and marginalization experiences intersect with each other. If we're so focused on labels for one identity, we end up discarding the others. This applies even when thinking about fictional characters in completely fictional settings. Most of these settings will, to varying degrees, reflect our real world. By using an identity label for only one aspect of a character's in-universe identity that happens to reflect a real world identity, what does this about all their other in-universe identities that reflect real world identities?

Circling all the way back to OP's point (sorry for the hijacking!):

Fandom is made up of communities. That doesn't sound like much on the surface when everyone uses that as a buzzword, but what I mean is that fandom isn't an institution or object that exists without people participating in it. Fandom is the participation, fandom is the interaction, fandom is the mutual connections fans build with each other. The 'mutual' there is important; a lot of social media makes it very easy for people to feel like they are friends with someone, when that other person barely knows them or doesn't know them at all. (The word is "parasocial relationships" if you wanna learn more.)

The "Author Is X" tag is about the author as an individual. Sharing facets of yourself as an individual isn't an inherently bad thing. Sometimes, we're proud of that and want to share that; or our specific experience is relevant to the specific story we're telling; or we want to make others with the same identity who feel alone know that they can reach out to us. These are all ways that sharing part of your identity with your audience can build a community. (Hell, even just writing out this long ramble right now, I find myself debating whether or not I should mention my own ethnic heritage on the fanfic where my heritage is influencing the way I'm worldbuilding.)

But using it as a justification or as a defensive measure is inherently contradictory to the spirit of community and the pursuit of empathy. It's implying that an individual author is supposed to be on their own and only relying on their knowledge and experience to write something; or that the author who already wrote something had no input from people around them. Quite frankly, that's never true. It's extremely rare for someone to just start writing fanfic without some semblance of community, even if it's literally just the single fandom friend. (Never mind the fact that fanfic by default always has at least two creators, the author of the fic and whoever made the canon thing that the fanfic is about.)

When we ask each other how our various experiences affect our lives, that is a connection we are building. When we ask multiple friends for their various inputs, for the different ways they experienced the same marginalization as their identity, for the ways a marginalized identity might have impacted their lives (even if that identity wasn't their own), all of that is building connections and thus building a community. These are threads of empathy fans build with each other.

And we should be doing more of that.

One trend on ao3 that I feel uneasy about is the increased use of “author is trans” “author is disabled” “author is ace” etc tags.

On the one hand I can understand how it can feel like a reassuring sign for readers who are trans/disabled/ace etc that their lives are less likely to be misrepresented in that fic because the writer has lived experience.

But at the same time, when we’re writing fanfiction—about kids who can manipulate the force of the waves, about necromancy, about flying on dragons—I think the suggestion that you need to have lived experience to write sensitively about something is so limiting.

Like if we aren’t exercising the full force of our imaginations and empathy in fanfiction, where exactly are we doing it?

It also makes me sad because sometimes you can tell from the nervousness of the author’s note that the writer felt they had to justify their writing with their lived experience. And I don’t think you should feel ethically obligated to gesture toward personal and often painful aspects of your identity to justify writing you do in your spare time that makes you happy.

Some of the best fics I’ve read about disability have been written by authors that didn’t have experience with that exact condition and did heartfelt research and really let themselves inhabit it. And I think that’s a bravura display of empathy and the very best that fiction can offer: caring about a character enough, and caring about your readers enough, that you want to understand what it’s like.

Sometimes friends have asked me about my visual disability to better understand Zuko for their stories, and I’ve always found it really moving. It means they care so much about the fictional world that they want to get the real world right too. It means they’re learning and growing so they can make stories about disability.

It means they love the show, and it means they love me.

[genderqueerdykes]

I'm so sick of perisex trans people telling me I can't be transmasc as an amab person. I'm fucking intersex and never had a real puberty let alone a really masc one. I grew some tiny tits and almost no beard, just some fluff. People constantly called me young lady all my teenage and young adult years. I was always looking too fem to be seen as a man but also not fem enough to just pass as a woman. But yea sure, no transition required here at all because i was born with a fucking dick. Cause what's in my pants is the only important thing when it comes to me being allowed to use the trans label.

hey, thank you for taking the time to send this! your story deserves to be told

i honestly don't understand why perisex trans people get so worked up about it. it's a very common, just not talked about experience. i get feedback from amab transmasculine people all the time, nobody wants to listen. amab transmasculine people get talked over so hard for the sake of petty internet drama it's so sad. that doesn't need to be happening. who does that benefit?

people really are way too focused on genitals right now. it's disturbing, and you should say it. that's just literally what we're dealing with right now. people are being predatory as hell right now, feeling like they NEED to know A.) the genitals someone currently has and/or B.) the genitals they were born with. i really just don't understand why that's the state of affairs right now. but every time people try to talk about it, it gets shut down. no matter what.

i just don't quite understand why perisex people are getting so defensive on the "behalf" of intersex people right now, it's so rude. it's hurting people, and we didn't ask you to do that. intersex people don't like you more when you hurt people for no reason. also, no one should feel obligated to divulge whether or not they are perisex, intersex, or something else. i don't like that people have to divulge any of this. you are allowed to control how much information you share about yourself on the internet. your safety and privacy is important. i think people feel way too entitled to very personal details about strangers at all times and it's frightening.

harassing you doesn't help me. i'm intersex. how does this help me, or any other intersex person? it just creates a situation where someone else has to step in to help. you're not accomplishing anything. i have no idea why people think hostility within queer spaces is a good thing but it's just so old. i want you to live as yourself, however you want to identify yourself as

of course you're transmasc. that's a very transmasculine experience, it doesn't make any sense to me why it matters to anyone. you are the arbiter of your own lived experience, nobody has any right to tell you how you identify. besides, in my eyes... aren't more transmascs a good thing ? that's what i thought, anyway. like that makes me happy. the more diversity in transmasc spaces, the better. i don't need to know anything about your body, or anyone else's. i don't like that. it's not productive. it's predatory. it's creepy. it's gross. it's invalidating.

thanks for stopping by, i hope things just like. calm the hell down. i just can't entertain that behavior it's damaging and i don't know why anyone is enjoying getting riled up anymore. just let people be. let amab transmasculine people talk

[balis77]

Shoutout to Lakia for just like, being the smartest Kamen Rider ever made. Bro is dodging plot points like he's avoiding event flags in a speedrun.

"Hmm. Now that I know you weren't involved in my brother's death and I can't advance through the company like I thought, you're right. It actually does make more sense to work with you instead of killing you, since we both want the same thing anyway and now I know my original plan won't work."

"Hmm. This is a pretty shocking revelation about your true identity, but the implications don't line up with your actions or personality, so there's probably more to it. Instead of jumping to conclusions like your buddy over there, why don't you just tell me your side of the story so I can understand why you didn't say this before?"

"Hmm. Valen seems to be fighting Shoma. Except that doesn't line up with Shoma at all. And now that I'm looking closely, that other Rider also looks and acts very different from Shoma, so obviously there's something going on here. Even if I think Valen isn't going to be very useful, he does share the same goal I do, so I should still help him out."

[beneathsilverstars]

what does the party think of loop being a different siffrin. like why theyre here. likee do they think loop is a siffrin who.. succeeded? a siffrin who died?

[context: Dagger Ending AU]

Ooh yes. Here's everyone's theories from the first week or two, and what Loop had to say about them!

They've all discussed their theories together (though with some details omitted when Bonnie's there), and they have varying opinions on each other's, but they mostly stick to arguing their own if just because they have a clandestine bet going on. Maybe a little gauche, but sometimes you need to lighten the mood by acting the same way you do for sillier topics.

Bonnie's theory: Siffrin asked the stars for a friend.

Bonnie's story is inspired by some fairytales they were told when they were younger. Those fairytales were inspired by stories from the forgotten island, so Bonnie's version here actually brings it closer to the originals again! Though of course, with a Vaugardian twist.

Bonnie says: Siffrin was worried about being left alone, so since he really likes the stars for some reason, he asked the stars to be his friend forever. So one of the stars came down to be with him! But obviously a dot of light wouldn't make a very good friend, so they had to Change to be a person — and a dot of light that isn't a person yet wouldn't know how to Change right yet, so they just cheated and copied Siffrin. But it's impossible to Change to be exactly like another person, you can only ever be a new version of yourself, so that's why Loop isn't the exact same as Siffrin.

Bonnie: I know you don't want to explain to us why there's two of you, and why you're not a— you're... more different than people can normally be, but if I tell you my thee-ry, will you at least just say if I'm right? Loop: Hm... Probably not. Loop: But you should tell me anyway! [Bonnie explains their theory.] Loop: Aw! That's a very cute story~ [Loop's smile becomes more forced.] Loop: That is all I am, aren't I? A star friend for pooor little Siffrin, so he doesn't have to be all alone? Bonnie: I knew it!!! Bonnie: Do you miss being a normal star, up in the sky? [Loop takes a deep breath.] Loop: I miss a lot of things. But I asked to be here. Bonnie: Oh! Did you ask for a friend, too? It would make sense for the stars to pick you to send, if you were lonely too. Loop: ... I did! You're very good at this. Bonnie: Of course I am!!! Loop: You know, you should tell your story to stardust. I think they'll like it better than I do. [Bonnie runs off to tell Siffrin about it, and then to tell the other adults that Loop said they were totally right.]

Isabeau's theory: Loop is a sadness made out of Siffrin's self-hatred and loneliness.

There's stories about people finding "their" sadness that mirrors them exactly, including both fiction that uses it as a metaphor for inner battles, and folktales that claim to be true. Isabeau used to not believe the folktales at all, because they vary so wildly, and surely one single person's emotions couldn't be strong enough to make a sadness as sapient as some of the stories claim — no sadnesses are that clever, not even the big powerful ones that are made out of so many people's emotions that they aren't even vaguely human-shaped.

But, now, well... If it is possible, it's hard to find any negative emotions stronger than the reasons someone tried to kill themself. And it's undeniable that Loop seems to be closer to a sadness in physiology than they are to any living creature.

Plus, there could very well be some other factor that pushed Loop into full personhood! Some of the stories include the sadness feeding on its originator until the person wastes away and the sadness takes their place, which is far-fetched, but so is this whole situation. Or, animating a statue kind of involves putting a bit of yourself into it — your craft energy, your intentions — so perhaps Siffrin had put a lot of themself into Loop, in a way that isn't possible with something nonliving. It would explain the craft exhaustion, too, if Siffrin had fueled Loop's becoming in some way or another.

Isabeau: Bonnie said you said they were right. That you're a star sent to be Sif's friend. Loop: I'm sure they did. Isabeau: ... But it's not true, right? [Loop looks away.] Loop: ... I didn't actually tell them it was. I didn't lie to them. Just... parts of it. Isabeau: Parts of it were true? Isabeau: Which parts? Loop: ... What do you think? Isabeau: Well, it would depend on exactly how they worded it, wouldn't it? They keep changing their mind on the details. Loop: What do you think, then? Isabeau: About… Loop: Me. Isabeau: Right. [Isabeau makes a face.] Isabeau: I... don't know that it would do any good to tell you. Loop: Wow, that bad, huh? Now I have to hear it. Isabeau: Just, promise you won't take it the wrong way? [Loop squints at him.] Loop: I'll take it whatever way I want. Isabeau: Alright, fair enough. Alright. But, whether or not my theory is true, that doesn't change how I think about you, okay? You're a person, and you're our friend, and I'm glad you're here with us. Loop: Just get on with it, Fighter. Isabeau: Yeah, yeah, alright. Isabeau: It’s... I think you might be a sadness? [Loop gasps dramatically.] Loop: Ooooh, how could you~? Isabeau: There would definitely have to be more to it. You are a person, and you're stable, Sif's moods don't affect you any more than they do the rest of us. But... you're not human. You don't need to sleep, you can't eat, you're just... not made out of living stuff? But you're not artificial either, you're not an inanimate thing that's been crafted to move. You're alive! And there's only one sort of... being... that I know of, that's alive but not living. And, well... Sif...... Loop: ... They were so very, very sad. Isabeau: Yeah. Loop: Well! It does make sense! Loop: Of course you'd go for the depressing, realistic answer! Loop: You're entirely wrong, of course, but... Loop: I... [Loop looks down at their hands.] [They move their hands up, to grip their arms.] Isabeau: Sorry. I knew you wouldn't like it. I swear it really, really doesn't matter, okay? However you... got here... you're here now, and you're you, and we're glad of it. Loop: ... Isabeau: I'll go see if Bonbon needs any help with dinner.

Mirabelle's theory: Siffrin killed himself, and he both got brought back to life and lived on as a ghost.

To be exact, he successfully(-ish?) committed suicide when he said he was going to go take a nap in the meadow. She thinks it's an earlier attempt rather than the one Odile saw because: Siffrin had originally told Isabeau he wanted to talk again with someone he'd spoken to the day before — which could only have happened earlier in the day, because Siffrin was never left alone later — and while that could be a lie it also explains how Siffrin knew that Loop was at the favor tree at all; Odile mentioned how confident and unflinching he was about it, which could be explained by having done it before; and everyone agrees that the recent changes in Siffrin started, though more subtly, after the nap in particular.

Siffrin not dying from his late afternoon attempt isn't necessarily as much of a factor — Vaugardian ghost lore includes stories of people being haunted by earlier versions of themselves that they’d Changed away from, so there’s precedence for living people having ghosts. Of course this means there are other major Changes besides death (or deciding to die) that can create a ghost, but the other ways Siffrin has changed don't seem quite dramatic enough in the right way to have been the catalyst. In fact, it’s strange than Loop seems to be the more Changed of the two! But perhaps pre-Dormont Siffrin actually was more like Loop and just hid it better, or perhaps Siffrin used to be more like Loop at an earlier point in their life, and had somewhat Changed but not enough to be happy with themself. Either way, any of Loop's traits that post-Dormont Siffrin doesn't seem to share much at all would be parts of themself that pre-Dormont Siffrin "killed".

Mirabelle: Loop... You don't have to answer if you don't want to, but... Are you a ghost? Loop: You know, stardust guessed the same thing! And I told them... Well, I don't remember anymore. Something about the Favor Tree being my grave? Loop: Anyway, you could sort of say that! Except, how could I be his ghost when he didn't actually die? You made sure of that. Mirabelle: Well... I thought maybe... Mirabelle: Maybe Siffrin did kill themself? Before that? And you're the parts of Siffrin that they killed, but you stayed because... because you still had things to get done, or Siffrin still needed you, or… or something like that...? Loop: HA! Loop: Yeah, something like that!!! [Loop laughs hysterically for a bit, then suddenly stops.] Loop: ... Go away, Housemaiden. [Mirabelle leaves to fetch Siffrin.] [While she's gone, Loop leaves the camp.] [Siffrin finds them and brings them back several hours later.]

Odile's theory: Siffrin wished for a companion.

The final loop through the house didn't include either of the forgotten language books on wish craft, but it did include discussion of the impossibility of time craft, and the diary where a lonely person wished for a copy of themself. Odile initially dismissed the diary as creative fiction, but it was still fresh on her mind when she met Loop later that day!

During the next couple days in Dormont, she asked Euphrasie about how she crafted Mirabelle's blessing, because she loves cutting-edge craft. The conversation turned to the King's impossible time craft, and Euphrasie said she thinks he probably used wish craft. She explained that she doesn't know much because it's hard to find anything more than brief mentions of it, but she's confident it's real. She's pretty sure you need to do very particular things in order to use it, though — not any old wish will do — and she doesn't know what those things are. But it's probably the only way the King could have gotten the power to stop time, and there's a chance that the people of Vaugarde’s wishes for salvation contributed to his defeat (but she's not sure because who knows if anyone actually wished the right away).

Now, knowing that wish craft could be real… it’s strange to think that Siffrin might know about something basically unheard of. But they did know about the orrery in the house, and caring about stars is basically unheard of, too! And… Loop says they’re a star… and the King has stars on his armor….. And it’s risky to use one guess as evidence for another, but that could be three instances where the shape or knowledge of stars appeared alongside the use or knowledge of wish craft. And Siffrin spoke to Loop at the Favor Tree, and supposedly that’s where they spoke the day before too, and a Favor Tree is a place where you ask for something you want.

Siffrin’s craft exhaustion could be a point for or against; on one hand, making a copy of yourself must be powerful craft, but on the other hand, wish craft was what allowed the King to perform craft so strenuous that it should’ve instantly killed him. Plus, Siffrin’s exhaustion didn’t hit till at least a full day after they went to the Favor Tree alone the first time. So Odile doesn’t know enough to call that factor either way.

And why would Siffrin try to kill themself shortly after their wish came true? Was it just not everything they hoped it would be? Siffrin and Loop fight a lot, but they obviously care for each other a lot, too… But maybe even getting something they really wanted could make a depressed person feel worse, if it doesn't help as much as they hoped it would, and they decide that means they’re hopeless.

Odile decided on this theory by day three. There are other mysteries that aren’t as neatly explained by it, like the ease with which Siffrin navigated the house, but perhaps they’d made a second wish? Or perhaps that was the influence of the Vaugardian wishes that Euphrasie talked about? And over the following weeks, Siffrin’s behavior has only gotten stranger, in worrying, unexplainable ways. Odile is finding many different pieces to an unknown number of puzzles… but she’s fairly certain she’s got a good start on the Loop corner.

Loop: Well, Researcher? Everyone else has told me their theories on what and how and why I am. What's yours? Odile: I was wondering when you’d ask. My best theory is that Siffrin made a wish — for a friend who wouldn’t leave him, or someone who understood what he felt, or something along those lines — and your existence was the answer. Loop: … Loop: Same story as the Kid, huh? Odile: You did say that they got parts of it right. Loop: It just seems a bit unrealistic for you, Researcher~ Stardust wished for a friend and one just fell out of the sky? Odile: Your entire existence is unrealistic, Loop. But if a craft has the power to freeze an entire country in time, surely it also has the power to create life. Or split it, perhaps. Loop: … But the king used time craft. What does that have to do with wish craft? Odile: The Head Housemaiden of Dormont believes wish craft is what gave him the power to stop time. Loop. W- How does she know about wish craft?? Odile: How do you, Loop? Loop: The— It’s— [Odile waits patiently.] Loop: The book! The, the diary, in that room, with the— the thing for the stars. It talked about wish craft. Odile: Ah, of course. The diary of a person who felt lonely and misunderstood, so they used wish craft to make a copy of themself. The diary you’ve never seen, because you… branched off, let’s say, the day before we fought through the House. Loop: Stardust told me about it! Odile: Of course. You know, they remember a surprising amount about the House? It's been several weeks, and you'd think between the traumatic injury the day before and the fevers afterwards, even the average person would consider it all a bit of a blur. But they still remember details that the others have forgotten, about conversations it seemed they were barely paying attention to. Even one or two things that I don't remember at all. [Loop breathes shallowly.] Loop: W— What are you implying? Odile: Nothing in particular. However shaky the wish craft theory seems, I'm even less sure about everything else. Loop: Well, you should be! Because there is nothing else! [Odile sighs.] Odile: I'm sorry, I know you don't want us knowing about these things. You and Siffrin both. But he's... not doing well. [Loop looks away.] Odile: And frankly, I don't think you are, either. But we can't help if we don't know what the problem is! It's your choice not to tell us, but I'm not going to stop trying to figure it out. Loop: It doesn't matter! The other things. He has you now, all four of you. You're helping. They'll be okay. Odile: What about you, Loop? Loop: ... I'm helping too. I'm trying. I'm here to help them. Odile: Loop... [Odile is about to say something, but stops. She takes a deep breath before continuing.] Odile: It would help a great deal if you and he could be more open with us. Loop: ... Odile: Can I take this as confirmation of my theory, at least? Loop: ... Not quite. Odile: But I'm close. [Loop doesn't claim otherwise.]

[emotionallychargedtowel]

The em dashes in this example don’t exactly “belong” to Emma (the character) though, right? I’m pretty sure this is a summary of Mrs. Elton prattling. I guess I just don't want it to sound like they're Emma's responsibility, which adding them to her name seems to do. Unless they are her responsibility. Hm.

She is the reader’s point-of-view character. She's arguably the one who summarizes Mrs. Elton in this way. If she took Mrs. Elton more seriously it doesn't seem like her words would be summarized in this way. But then we’d have to read every word Mrs. Elton says here—verbatim. No thanks.

I was wondering if the reason Emma is such an em-dash outlier might be because of Mrs. Elton and/or certain other tiresome or longwinded characters (I'm thinking of Miss Bates, of course), along with Emma’s halfway listening to them.

So I cracked open my copy. And now I'm taking a perfectly good joke and turning it into a detailed discussion of my hyperfixation. Well, hopefully it's of interest to others anyway.

The short version of the answer to my question is that Emma's em dash quotient doesn't seem to be entirely, or even mainly, attributable to any specific character, including any propensity of Emma's as our point-of-view character. It's mostly just that Austen goes all out with the em-dashes all over the place. Now, I love em dashes and overuse them habitually. But the em dashes in Emma seem downright excessive to me.

Check out this bit where Emma and Harriet are looking at Mr. Elton's house:

“…there could be no possibility of the two friends passing it without a slackened pace and observing eyes.—Emma’s remark was— ‘There it is. There go you and your riddle-book one of these days.’—Harriet’s was— ‘Oh! What a sweet house!—How very beautiful!—There are then yellow curtains that Miss Nash admires so much.’”

They really are extraneous here.

At other points, they seem to serve the usual purposes in dialogue, like making a sentence into a sort of aside or showing when someone has been cut off by another person. And sometimes they accomplish other worthwhile things. For one thing, as in the Mrs. Elton summary, they often do the work of helping to condense a bit of small talk. There's also a part where Miss Bates goes off at length twice in quick succession, in which the em-dashes show how abruptly she jumps from one topic to the next.

Mr. Knightley's response when he thinks Emma is upset because of the revelation of Frank Churchill's engagement to Jane Fairfax makes good use of them in a related way:

"...[S]he found her arm drawn within his, and pressed against his heart, and heard him thus saying, in a tone of great sensibility, speaking low, 'Time, my dearest Emma, time will heal the wound.—Your own excellent sense—your exertions for your father's sake—I know you will not allow yourself—.' Her arm was pressed again, as he added, in a more broken and subdued accent, 'The feelings of the warmest friendship—Indignation—Abominable scoundrel!' —And in a louder, steadier tone, he concluded with, 'He will soon be gone. They will soon be in Yorkshire. I am sorry for her. She deserves a better fate.'"

The em dashes show the abrupt way he switches from one phrase or exclamation to another. If his tone is "steadier" at the end of this passage, the em dashes seem to show how unsteady he was at the beginning of it. He's not just changing his tack repeatedly, he's doing it because he's agitated.

So, yeah. Austen does some worthwhile things with her preponderance of em dashes in Emma. But for the most part, she was just wilding out.

An ode to em

One of the reasons that I love Jane Austen's work is that she loves an em dash. Just how much does she love an em dash? Behold:

That's right, baby—Emma has 3102 em dashes in it! Not hyphens—this is just the count of true em dashes alone. It's glorious.

Let's all bask in the em dashes in this famous Emma passage:

“The best fruit in England—every body’s favourite—always wholesome.—These the finest beds and finest sorts.—Delightful to gather for one’s self—the only way of really enjoying them.—Morning decidedly the best time—never tired—every sort good—hautboy infinitely superior—no comparison—the others hardly eatable—hautboys very scarce—Chili preferred—white wood finest flavour of all��price of strawberries in London—abundance about Bristol—Maple Grove—cultivation—beds when to be renewed—gardeners thinking exactly different—no general rule—gardeners never to be put out of their way—delicious fruit—only too rich to be eaten much of—inferior to cherries—currants more refreshing—only objection to gathering strawberries the stooping—glaring sun—tired to death—could bear it no longer—must go and sit in the shade.”

31 em dashes in that sequence alone! And that's not even the whole paragraph—there are 9 more em dashes in the rest of the paragraph before that quotation! Iconic.

[archangeldyke-all]

Oooo i have a cowboy sevika ask if you want it 🤲 okay so what if sevika is telling vi or jinx or both a story from one of her outlaw days and reader catches her and is like bro you can not be telling our rambunctious kids about those days bc they are crazy and will just turn around and do that shit…and sev is like but they think im cool now.

yk what i’m sayin? i hope that made sense anyways do whatever ya want I love cowboy sevika so so so much!!

this is so cute GOD

men and minors dni

this weekend, your kid-load has doubled.

caitlyn rode up to visit vi, and benzo asked you to watch after ekko while he takes care of some business a few towns over. it's been great fun. caitlyn and ekko, unlike your own children, have house-manners. ekko's been a huge help keeping the tavern tidy, and cait's been great help in the garden.

what's even better is watching your girls interact with their respective crushes. vi and cait have finally made it out of the awkward giggly phase, and now they're bickering like an old couple at only sixteen. jinx and ekko are still young enough to not quite understand why they like hanging out so much, but you think jinx is starting to get a hint. she's been blushing almost all weekend.

besides your future children-in-laws, you've only got one guest staying in the inn this weekend. you've just finished changing out the sheets and refreshing the water pitchers in their room when you march downstairs to the tavern; only to find your regular ran sneaking behind the bar to make themselves a drink.

"hey!" you shout. ran scurries away guiltily, and you chuckle. "just 'cause you're here most nights doesn't mean you're allowed behind the bar."

"you were taking too long!" they pout. you giggle.

"you couldn't just ask sev?"

ran chuckles and trades you a few coins for the glass you pour for them. "she's busy recounting the 'old days' to your kids." they say, gesturing to where your wife's tucked in a booth with all four of the kids. you groan.

"fuck. that's never good."

"wait! leave the bottle, and gimmie another glass! mel's meetin' me here and she'll need a drink."

you raise an eyebrow at ran, giggling as they blush. looks like your kids aren't the only ones hanging out with their crushes this weekend. "here." you slide a glass and bottle across the bar. you go to run over to your family's booth, before freezing and turning back around to ran. "which story is she telling?"

"something about a bank robbery?"

"oh, fuck!" you whine, sprinting over to the booth, flipping ran off as they cackle.

"...so i hop on shimmers back-- but i'd loaded her up with so many gold bars she almost collapsed when i got on top. she was in no shape to run, and somebody from inside the bank started shootin' at us, so i hop back off, tell shimmer to scram, and then i start running for my fuckin' life--"

"sevika!" you cut in.

five pairs of wide, excited eyes shoot up to look at you. you groan.

jinx is vibrating in excitement at sevika's words, vi's deep in contemplation, like she's trying to plan her own bank robbery, and ekko and cait are staring at sevika with stars in their eyes like they've just met santa claus.

"hey, darlin'." sevika grins up at you, her eyes glittering with fond memories.

you shake your head at her. "you remember that talk we had about family-friendly stories?" you ask.

jinx groans from her seat. "oh c'mon! sevika doesn't have family friendly stories!"

"and she's got so many good adult ones!" vi adds on.

you groan. "you realize you're actively incriminating yourself each time you recount these stories to someone?"

sevika cackles. "oh, c'mon, doll! ekko and cait won't rat on me, right kids?" she asks.

ekko crosses his heart, and caitlyn gasps. "no, never!"

"sevika's the coolest woman in the entire desert!" ekko shouts. you roll your eyes.

"okay, ekko, i take offense to that." you say. ekko laughs.

"me too." jinx huffs.

cait giggles. "you're not a woman yet, jinx."

"yeah, but only because i haven't pulled off a successful bank robbery yet. once i accomplish that i'll be a real grown up."

"no, see, this is what we're trying to avoid!" you whine, smacking sevika's shoulder. she giggles, pulling you down into her lap and peppering kisses on your neck as you rant. "jinx, womanhood has nothing to do with crime."

"not if you're boring." jinx mutters.

"wh-- y-you-- fuck off! tell 'em how the story ends, sev." you demand, smacking your wife's shoulder. she perks up.

"really?!" she asks. you nod, and all your kids grin in excitement. "okay, okay. so. i'm fuckin' bookin' it down mainstreet, there's at least six people shootin' at me, and i'm praying to everything holy that shimmer knows to meet me back at camp." sevika pauses to take a sip of her beer, and cait squeals.

"so, what happened?!"

you can't help but smile a bit.

sevika chuckles and takes a breath. "i got my ass outta dodge and spent the entire night hiking back to my campsite. by the time i got there, i was cold, hungry, and ready to sleep for two weeks."

"was shimmer there?" vi gasps.

sevika chuckles. "'course she was. shimmer's smarter than all of us combined."

"and the gold?" ekko asks. sevika grins.

"made almost a quarter of a million once i melted it down and distributed it."

"that's amazing!" vi shouts.

you elbow sevika. "tell them the real end."

sevika huffs. your kids blink in confusion.

"that wasn't the end?"

"no, that wasn't the end." you say. "what sevika conveniently forgot to mention was the fact that she had not one, not two, but three gunshot wounds. the only reason she lived to trade that gold in was 'cause she ditched it at camp and rode shimmer back here to me. she nearly fuckin' bled out. spent three days asleep upstairs."

you feel a little bad for the way all the fun is sucked out of the conversation. but, you don't regret it. it was the worst week of your life, nursing her back to health like that only for her to ride back out the moment she was healed.

"'s why my arm's so fucked. there's casings embedded all over my left shoulder." sevika says. "woulda died if my baby didn't know how to cauterize a wound."

"and do chest compressions."

sevika gulps behind you. "y-you did?" she asks. you nod.

"what, you didn't know?" you ask.

she shrugs, tears welling up in her eyes. "'s all a blur. i stopped breathing?"

"for the worst five minutes of my fucking life." you say with a nod.

sevika blinks up at you, her love and affection for you evident in her gaze. "you saved my life?" she asks. you're interrupted before you can speak.

"that. is so. fucking. cool!" ekko shouts. you burst into surprised laughter, blinking away from your wife to look at your kids.

their looks of awestruck wonder all shifted from sevika to you. you chuckle.

"what the hell is 'cauterize?' and how do you do it?!" jinx asks, an excited gleam in her eye.

"how much blood did you have to clean?" vi asks with a fascinated look.

"ooooh, yeah, how much blood was there?" cait asks.

sevika nudges her beer against your hand and you snort, kissing her cheek before taking a big gulp.

you let out a little burp, then speak. "alright, one question at a time. and you gotta remember: this was all the consequence of sevika's dumbass bank robbery."

"it was a flawless plan!" sevika whines.

"flawless if you're trying to get killed." ekko scoffs. the kids cackle.

"okay, start with the blood! how much blood was there" jinx demands, tugging at your hand.

you giggle and shrug. "i dunno. a shit ton?" you guess. your kids burst into excited giggles, and sevika presses her smile against your shoulder.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

@kissyslut @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

@lavenderbabu @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai @my-taintedheart

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@blackgaladriel @nightlyconfusion @dancingqu33n17 @losernb @p1nkearth

taglist!!

@sevikas-baby @ghostscandys @sevikasllver @runawaybaby3

[saphronethaleph]

Galaxy Done Quick

“If we’re going to stop Palpatine’s plan, we need to start where the trail went cold,” Poe said, as the Falcon rose into the sky. “That means going to Pasana.”

Finn and Rey exchanged glances.

“DaggerSkip?” Finn asked.

“Yeah, that’s the play,” Rey agreed, reaching over and inputting coordinates to the nav computer.

“What’s a dagger skip?” Poe asked, confused. “Is that supposed to mean something?”

“It’s a sequence break,” Rey told him, as the Falcon turned to face the Endor system. “Look, if there’s anything to find that the Emperor didn’t intend to be lost it’s going to be where the second Death Star crashed down, right?”

Finn helpfully reached over and pushed the hyperdrive lever.

“I guess, but – hey!” Poe objected. “Don’t we need to go to Pasana?”

“No, we don’t need to go to Pasana,” Finn replied. “We do this, we skip Pasana and Kijimi, and as a bonus we don’t need to wipe C-3PO’s memory, either.”

“I beg your pardon?” C-3PO asked.

“Don’t worry, we’re not doing that,” Rey said, which was presumably supposed to be reassuring. “The Kef Bir transition isn’t state based, so we can just go there and get things going.”

Poe looked at his friends, then at C-3PO. “...should I understand any of this? You understand all languages, right?”

“I can certainly translate most of them, sir,” C-3PO told him. “However, as I’m sure my counterpart could inform you, being able to translate a language doesn’t mean you have the least idea what is going on.”

“So… explain to me why we aren’t helping Rey?” Poe said, as Finn adjusted his electrobinoculars.

“It’s not a two person level,” Finn replied, scanning. “Okay, hold on… yeah, there we go.”

“You can see her?” Poe asked.

“Nope,” Finn replied. “But I can see half the fight arena.”

Poe groaned.

“You’re not making any sense,” he complained.

Finn shrugged, then passed Poe a second set of binoculars. “If you want to see, you can look… about halfway up that spire there.”

Poe examined the electrobinoculars, then Finn’s pair.

“...these are mine,” he said. “And so are the ones you’re using. How…?”

“Oh, yeah, that was done during the transition,” Finn shrugged. “Dupe glitch. Anyway, watch, this is where we find out if we’re on pace.”

Mystified, Poe put the electrobinoculars to his eyes, and focused them where Finn had told him.

Then he saw Rey… wielding a red lightsaber with two blades connected by a hinge?

“What the-?” he yelped, then saw another Rey, this one wielding a green saberstaff. “Where did that come from?”

“Oh, it makes the trick easier,” Finn shrugged, as green-weapon Rey backflipped up to the top of a spike of twisted metal, and red-weapon Rey jumped up to attack her.

Green-weapon Rey blocked the attack, stepping to the side, and red-weapon Rey fell in the sea.

“All right!” Finn declared. “First time! QuickRey is one of the hardest bits of this, that’s great!”

Poe tried not to decide too visibly that he wasn’t getting any answers.

“So… uh,” he began. “What do we do now?”

“Oh, yeah, we need to prep the Falcon for takeoff,” Finn said. “Don’t worry, Rey’s taking a different ship, we don’t need to wait for her.”

He turned, heading for the ship, and Poe looked back and forth between the smashed-up Death Star and Finn before following in some confusion.

The Falcon’s systems were coming rapidly online, and Poe was helping Chewie check the motivator, when there was a muffled curse from outside.

“Huh?” Poe asked, before looking towards the ramp.

And did a double take.

Because Kylo Ren was striding up the ramp, but instead of that weird mask he looked very confused.

“What is happening?” he demanded.

“What is – what are you doing on here?” Poe asked, snatching his blaster up – not that it would do any good. “Finn!”

“It’s okay!” Finn called back from the cockpit.

“It is not!” Poe and Kylo said at the same time, then exchanged a mutually offended look.

“There’s some flags that won’t trigger if he doesn’t make it to Exegol, okay?” Finn said. “So, yeah, this is quicker than any of the other options!”

Poe felt very confused.

“What I want to know is what happened!” Kylo said. “Because Rey backflipped past me and suddenly I didn’t have my lightsaber any more and I’m now no longer in thrall to the Dark Side!”

“Yeah, that’s called SoloSkip,” Finn said, apparently expecting that to help. “See, the redemption cutscene trigger is different from the redemption trigger, and it saves a few minutes to hit just one of them. Rey is really killing it, this is great… speaking of which, hey, Ben?”

“Yes?” Ben Solo said, because apparently that was his name again now.

“Mind setting the course for Exegol?” Finn asked. “Normally we’d need to wait until Rey got there, but you have the course so you can just plug it in.”

Ben shot a look at Poe.

“Do you have any idea what he’s going on about?” the maybe-ex-Ren said.

“Not since this morning,” Poe replied. “Just smile and nod, I guess…”

“I knew you would come here… my granddaughter,” Sheev Palpatine said, smirking and chuckling darkly. “Approach me.”

Rey approached him.

“You know, I only just realized it,” she said, thoughtfully. “But this routing skips any of the places where I’d find that out.”

Sheev worried for a moment if his granddaughter had somehow inherited being senile, or something.

“...it matters not,” he decided. “Come, embrace your destiny. You are a Palpatine, and you are the heir to the Sith – the heir to the Empire! Strike me down or take your place, it matters not, a Palpatine shall sit on the throne of the Empire!”

Rey did not seem to be listening to him, and Sheev scowled.

“Pay attention!” he said. “What are you mumbling to yourself, girl?”

“And…” Rey said, dragging the word out. “Switch to in-engine is… now.”

She promptly dove to the floor, and Sheev had enough time to wonder why before the Millennium Falcon fell through the opening in the ceiling and landed on him, engines-first.

He didn’t have time to wonder about anything else.

“And time!” Finn declared, as something went skoom underneath the Falcon.

Chewbacca growled, then everyone clutched for the nearest handhold as the Falcon swung through a ninety-degree angle from vertical to horizontal and the landing gear slammed down on the chamber floor with a bone-shaking crash.

Something in the hyperdrive went crunch.

“...what,” Poe began. “The kark. Was that.”

Finn shrugged. “It’s one of the weaknesses of the Empire. The final boss isn’t immune to fall damage.”

[squidwriting]

#4: Guilty

✁ — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

⇥ Masterlist

⇥ Taglist (hope they're all working!) @ferrari-curse, @solarisstarrsolomonsbeloved, @robertthehoover, @annasnape7, @menabuser16, @swthrtbyeol, @foulbreadpaenut, @earphonejack09, @namelesslosers, @pearl-pool, @ameagrice, @ayyylol, @honeynanamin, @ninglovr, @beebeechaos, @gracesworks, @muscrat112, @androgynous-lady

⇥ Pairing Hwang In-ho x fem!reader

⇥ Warnings Spoilers for Season 1 & 2, angst, violence, graphic descriptions of injuries & death

⇥ A/N: Almost got emotional there. 👀😂

⇥ [#3] | [#5]

✁ — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

"How could you?"

Gi-hun's voice was low as you approached the small group that hat once again gathered at their usual spot after collecting their small dinner. "We lost by one vote. One vote. If you had pressed the red button, then-"

"Wow, stop right there," you cut him off, raising your hand. "First off, I don't need to tell you why. Second, if you want to give someone shit for this... give it to Jung-bae, your twice-as-righteous friend. I've had an O on my chest since the beginning. He changed his vote."

In-ho listened silently, biting back a smirk. Despite everything that had happened to you, you had not lost your confidence and quick-wittedness.

"Fine," you sighed in response to Gi-hun's glare. "I'll keep my distance."

"Don't," In-ho answered quickly, grabbing your wrist to keep you from leaving. "There's no use in arguing about our votes anyway. Let's just... focus on whatever is going to happen next. Okay?"

Dae-ho pulled Jung-bae back as well. The older man stumbled over his words, apologizing and explaining his vote, hoping to make the whole situation less awkward. You sighed and sat down, unpacking your food slowly. It was not much, but it would be enough to not have anyone go to bed hungry.

Silence settled over the five of you; a thick and suffocating silence, only interrupted by the occasional argument being thrown around the dormitory. You swallowed thickly, contemplating whether or not you should break the silence. It was risky to pry, but part of you was either curious... or just desperate to talk to your husband.

"I'm sorry you can't go to your wife now," you said quietly, taking another bite of your bread. You felt like shit saying those words - but the silence had been even worse.

"Not to worry," he answered after a short moment, a strange sense of melancholy seeping into his words. "She wouldn't know anyway."

Before you could say anything, the already well-known female voice announced the end of the day through the speakers. Gi-hun had suggested that you would all stay together from now on, even during the night, taking turns in keeping watch. All of you settled in quickly. By the times the lights went out, the dormitory was eerily silent.

Dae-ho was fast asleep.

Jung-bae and Gi-hun talked and laughed quietly about something.

In-ho was quietly staring at the ceiling.

And you were quietly staring at In-ho.

"Will watching me help you fall asleep?" He smirked, looking at you from the corner of his eyes. You were unable to suppress a small smile. "Maybe," you whispered, rolling onto your side. "Compared to everyone else around here, you always seem so calm and collected. Like a haven of peace."

He chuckled quietly, before a deep sigh escaped him. "That's what my wife used to call me, too."

"What happened," you asked, scooting a bit closer to him, "if... you don't mind me asking?"

In-ho stayed silent, his eyes finding the distant ceiling again, as he drifted deeper and deeper into his memories.

"It was... a warm, sunny day in late July. I was just finishing up some paperwork for my boss, so I could leave early. That day.... we had been married 15 years. I had planned a surprise for her. And then... I got a call from the hospital."

You swallowed thickly, settling into a more comfortable position. You knew your story obviously... but you never heard In-ho's side of it. Part of you was curious - the other part terrified.

"She got hit by a truck. Didn't even see it coming."

"I'm sorry," you whispered, biting back words of protest. Like a mantra, you reminded yourself to not interrupt or correct him. Let him talk. You know nothing.

"And... she's still in the hospital? Four months later?" 

In-ho nodded slowly. "It's a severe case of retrograde amnesia. She doesn't remember anything that happened before the accident. The doctors are doing everything they can," he inhaled shakily. In the dim light, you could see tears welling up in his eyes. "But there's only so much they can do, and they're not... too optimistic anymore."

"Damn," you whispered, rolling onto your back. 

"If only I had taken the day off."

In-ho's words barely reached your ears. His voice was small, too small for a man of his caliber. "What?" you looked at him, confused by his statement. He huffed lightly before speaking up again. 

"I promised her on our last anniversary. I promised to take the day off. I didn't. If I had, she wouldn't have been out on the road, getting run over like that." 

You took a deep breath, collecting your thoughts. Memories - long forgotten - flooded your consciousness. "My god..." you whispered, remembering the fight you and In-ho had the year before your accident. What was supposed to be an amazing anniversary for you two, ended in one of the loudest and nastiest fights you two ever had - in all those years you had known each other. 

A realization hit you as more new found memories came to light slowly. 

"You two had a fight on the day of the accident, didn't you...?" 

A single tear escaped In-ho's eye, glistening in the soft light. 

 "That's why I need that money," he whispered, slowly looking over at you, "to get her the best possible treatment. When she gets her memory back - even if she doesn't want me anymore - I need to tell her-"

Another tear rolled down his cheek, and a heavy lump in his throat kept him from talking. Your heart clenched painfully. Had he carried this heaviness, this unnecessary guilt with him all these years? 

Had he not told anybody?

Or had no one told him how cruel he was being to himself by beating himself up over something that was not his fault? 

In a moment of unexpected boldness, you reached out and gently wiped his tears off with your fingers. It was electrifying to touch him like this again - after all these long years. The tips of your fingers tingled pleasantly, and you could not keep yourself from cupping his cheek gently. 

"You shouldn't carry this weight on your shoulders," you whispered, your thumb gently stroking his cheek. "I'm sure... your wife wouldn't want that. Take it from someone who lost her memory as well," you chuckled lightly, "we don't worry about the bad things that happened before the incidents. We wonder about all the great things we have forgotten. We long to remember the happy times, the joyous things that made us who we are, and that formed our bonds and relationships."

"And you should, too. Why beat yourself up over something that was out of your control? The only thing you messed up was to not stick to your promise... which, I guess, would have been resolved with an apology, flowers, chocolates, dinner in her favorite restaurant, and great sex. In that particular order." 

In-ho was unable to suppress a small chuckle at your words. 

"Everything else was not your fault... was it?" 

Slowly, you pulled your hand away again. You were treading on dangerous territory now, the urge to tell him everything growing with each passing minute. But who knew how he would react? 

How would you deal with the situation going forward anyway? You could not live a lie forever, even if you made it through the last remaining days in this facility. 

"Thank you," he whispered after a few long moments. 

Once more, silence settled over the two of you - but it was not as heavy and tense as before. 

"Try to sleep," he mumbled, carefully scooting a bit closer to you. "I'll keep watch."

You hummed, curling up on your side. "Jung-bae and Gi-hun already do. You should catch some sleep as well."

"It's fine," he smiled, "I'm not tired anyway." 

Surprisingly, you drifted off to sleep fairly quickly. Maybe it was exhaustion. Maybe it was the familiar feeling of sleeping next to your husband that you had come to miss over the past months. 

Whatever it was, when soft lips placed a gentle, loving kiss on your forehead, you were already fast asleep.

"Sleep well, my love," In-ho whispered, nuzzling against you carefully, inhaling your scent. The storm brewing within his heart and mind was still raging.

But with you so close to him, he did not hear the roaring thunders and howling winds. 

[trendywaifus]

Greetings trendy! It is I! The great and mighty Kaijunon! I'm here with just a wholesome suggestion, giving Miyabi headpats. Y'know? Gently caressing her hair, giving her small kisses, cuddling her like just giving her general affection bc I the epic and cool Kaiju rat am feeling extra affectionate today, anyway I shall now drink Pepsi

🍞 anon

hi hi!! coke better>> since I’ve been thinking about miyabi recently, here guyths🤓

also miyabi will take any type of affection you give her. the baby is touched starved and loves being praised. miyabi is at her clingiest when it’s cuddle time.

“ is my fox comfortable? “ you asked gently, tangled in the the sheets with miyabi’s small form snuggled up against you, cold nose burrowed in the crook of your neck. with toned arms hugging you tight, she let out a pleased sigh which felt like cool air fanning against your neck. “ yes, i am. “ after a long day at work, she finally gets to indulge herself in you. miyabi didn’t get to see you one time today due to being busy with slaying ethereals and she did not even get the chance to answer your texts or call before entering and exiting the hollow. it was all thanks to dragging and nonsensical reports too. you’ve been on her mind all day and the amount of times miyabi mused out loud to herself about wishing to see you made harumasa shake his head and tease her, yanagi reassure her, and soukaku offer her candy throughout the whole mission.

you run a hand up and down miyabi’s back repetitively, massaging invisible lines into her back through the inky kimono in a manner that makes her melt and fox ears push back against her head with contentment. “ you sure you don’t want to eat dinner? aren’t you hungry, ‘yabi? “

she shakes her head, “ no, i ate a bowl of two miso noodles before coming home so we can get straight to this. i have. .missed you too much today, my love.”

cracking into a warm smile, you give the crown of her head a kiss. “ i see. long day too? “

“ admittedly so. “ she replies in seemingly bland tone but you know her well enough to hear her words sounded a little heavier than usual. you don’t like how miyabi’s treated sometimes—her squad members are amazing, it’s the h.a.n.d. higher-ups. just because she’s the strongest void hunter right now doesn’t give them the right to treat her and her other members as some sort of weapons. they’ve been buried in missions recently because of the influx of increased hollow activity in some hollows. you briefly sighed before planting a lingering kiss on her head again. one of miyabi’s ears flickered with delight.

“ I’m sorry to hear that, my heart. but i know you handled it well today, you always do. as expected from my amazing lover. i just don’t like how you’re not getting any breaks lately. “

if she had a tail, it would undoubtedly be wagging right now. you can feel a small smile pressed against your next. “ . .they’re nothing. and no matter how many missions they give me, i’ll finish them all because of your unshakable support and you having me in your prayers. “

gently, you retract miyabi’s head away from your neck. ruby eyes connect with yours in brief confusion before they shine with soft affection. your hand place itself on her cheek and almost immediately, she leans into your tender warmth, soaking it in to her cool skin. “ of course, i’m yours after all. “

you lean in to share a soft kiss with miyabi who returns the gesture right back. she’s been getting better and more relaxed with kissing recently. you definitely can conclude that she’s a very good kisser now that her stiffness is disappearing away. “ rightfully so. “ the sable haired woman responds back with softness of her own.

“ haha. .rightfully so? do i sense the great miyabi showing off her arrogance? “ you teased, pressing your lips against the right crevice of hers.

“ no, i just firmly believe i’m the only one who can honor you and call you mine. . .however, if you want to view that as arrogance in a way. .then so be it. i do not pay it no mind. “

[ereawrites]

couldn't stop thinking about this post so I wrote it.. from elrond's pov bc why not!

wc: 1.1k | cw: none

fluff, mutual?pining, dumb puppy elrond

Elrond spots the necklace nestled amongst the wares of an artisan jeweller one early autumn day - a stall he barely even glances at in his haste - and for some inexplicable reason, he thinks of you.

Well. He knows the reason. It's because the gem is the exact colour that your eyes are when you turn your head away from him and the light catches the iris just right and you practically glow - and he tries not to think too hard about the fact that he can't recall that same hue in any of his other friends' eyes.

He's in a rush, but he stops anyway. The woman is kind, motherly-looking; she laughs when he has to juggle the armful of scrolls he carries to fish the coin purse from his pocket.

"Your love is a lucky one," she smiles as she hands him the box, a soft green velvet that reminds him of your favourite cloak. "To have such a generous admirer."

Elrond blinks, and swallows. "Ah - no, it's for a friend. A very dear one, but no more."

She pats his hand gently, eyes twinkling. He's running too late to dwell on it.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

It's four days before he's able to make the time to seek you out. The box sits on his desk in the meantime, and Elrond keeps finding himself opening it. Admiring the craftsmanship, he thinks. The colour really is quite beautiful.

Four days of torturous meetings and endless papers to read over. Gil-Galad seems to take pity on him then, tells him to leave in time for the evening meal, and perhaps run a brush through his hair. Elrond laughs at that, but does it anyway.

He has to run - why must he always be running? - to catch you in the gardens before the food is served. Once, he used to join you here every evening. Now he counts himself lucky to come once in a moon's turn.

As always, you're happy to see him, welcoming him with a warm caress of his cheek. He leans into it. As always.

Your palm lingers, thumb tracing the dark shadows that have formed under his eyes before falling away. "You look tired, mellon. Somehow I sense you may be overworking yourself again."

"Nonsense. I do only as much as is required of me.", he begins, desperate to wash away the concerned furrow of your brow. It works, if only because you instead raise it as if to scold him wordlessly. "Ai. I suppose it has been a busier week than usual."

You've always been able to see right through him, and he's never been able to lie to you anyway.

The autumn breeze catches your hair as you reply, twist of your mouth and crinkle of your eyes betraying your admonishing tone. "Just a week? I haven't seen you for two. I'd half-feared our king had shackled you to your desk and condemned you to an eternity of paperwork."

"I beg you, do not speak the idea around him. He may just follow through."

You laugh, and the trees dance in response, shaking off their golden leaves. Elrond gathers your hands in his, holding them close to his chest. "But, truly - I am sorry that I have neglected our friendship of late."

Your gaze softens and you make to comfort him, perhaps, or to say that you understand - you always understand, no one knows his mind better - but he silences you by drawing the velvet box from within his robes.

"A gift?", you ask as he presses it into your palms, not taking your eyes from his. He nods. "Well... I am very upset with you."

"And rightly so.", he says gravely. Your smile warms him against the chill of the evening breeze. "I had hoped this might redeem me."

Once he gives your wrist an encouraging squeeze, you open the box, and gasp like all the air has been knocked out of you. "Oh - it's beautiful."

"It made me think of you.", he responds instantly, before he's given any consideration to how that sounds. Fool. You don't seem to notice, though, too focused on tracing a finger over the gem and watching the way it sparkles in the dying sunset light.

"Thank you, Elrond. Mae carnen. In fact, I must wear it tonight so everyone can share in its' beauty.". You press the necklace into his waiting palm, and turn from him. "Will you fasten it for me, please?"

He fumbles a little with the clasp, a far cry from his usual steady hand. It must be the cold air. Or fatigue, he thinks. He lowers the chain over your head and his heart warms at the way your hand comes up to caress the stone against your chest. "I am glad you like it."

You hum contentedly. For that moment, there is only the rustle of the leaves, the gentle lapping of water in the fountain, the distant music and chatter - the clasp does up easily and Elrond lifts your hair carefully, meaning to settle the chain against your nape. He doesn't know why the tips of his fingers linger against your skin, or why he so gently moves away the stray tendril of hair that isn't interfering at all, or why his knuckles seem to brush against your back of their own accord as he lets your hair down. The movement lets him catch just the barest hint of the scent you wear, and the breath in his throat hitches almost imperceptibly.

What is he doing?

That quiet moment is gone as quickly as it came. You turn to face him. "I would like anything in this world if it came to me from you, mellon. But this really is beautiful. I am lucky to have you."

You're close enough that he can see the goosebumps rising across your collarbones. His head is spinning. He's exhausted, he must be, more so than he realised; he hates to worry you, though, so he smiles, and says softly, "Am I forgiven, mellon nin?".

Then, you come up onto your tiptoes, steading yourself with splayed palms against his chest, and - you kiss him on the cheek, something you've done a thousand times, so - why does he feel dizzy?

"Quite.", you grin, and slip your arm into his in a well-practiced motion. "Now, let us go and find you some food. You look a little faint. I'll be having words with our king if this continues, I don't care that-"

Elrond hardly hears the rest of your tirade as you lead him out of the gardens. The realisation has hit him like a punch to the gut.

Oh. Oh.

He's in trouble.

[nebula-chao-agere]

Regressuary 2025: Day 3

(This is specifically about the movie franchise, there will not be any shipping of any kind as they're basically children in the movies and I see them all more like siblings,,)

Like Brother

Shadow was walking nervously to Tom and Maddie's room, his baby blankie trailing behind him, the corner in his hand. The small blanket was a gift from Doctor Stone, being something he'd recovered from the lab after Gerald and Ivo's death. He didn't have a use for it, but it was in that room that Shadow had been a little too attached to while there. Surely the gift wouldn't hurt. Well, not only did it NOT HURT but it actively helped Shadow when he regressed, the little hedgehog and blankie being inseparable.

He toddled down the stairs and into their currently empty room. Maddie was with Tails and Knuckles in the kitchen working on a lunch of finger foods. Tom was in the bathroom with a fussing blue blur who was very insistent on not taking a bath. While everyone was distracted, Shadow found himself poking around in the shared closet of the parents of the house. He hesitantly flipped through Tom's shirts and jackets, a small pang of jealousy. Sonic, Tails, and even Knuckles had some clothes of their own. Shadow didn't really understand the concept of clothes, not anything other than gloves and shoes anyways. But when it came to bedtime or when one of his siblings were sick, "pajamas" seemed to bring alot of comfort to them. Even just t-shirts or the soft "pants" or "shorts" appeared to have some sort of comfort and gave the wearer some ability to relax.

Sonic had grown quite the collection of t-shirts now, mostly consisting of his favorite superheroes or cartoon characters, and even a few hand-me-downs from Tom. Shadow couldn't quite place why, but he wanted a shirt of his own. He was filled with almost 100% certainty that Sonic would share his, but it just wasn't the same to him. Shadow wanted his own. He wanted to feel... human? That's not the word he was looking for. Something that made him feel a bit more "down to Earth", in a literal sense; similar to how his blankie made him feel. He shook his head, holding his blankie closer to his chest before glancing behind him. Making sure the coast was clear; he hesitantly took a plain t-shirt off of one of the hangers. He'd made sure it wasn't one he saw Tom wear often, and made sure it wasn't one of the fancier ones that he saved for special occasions. And of course, he steered very clear of his work attire. They looked uncomfortable anyway.

The shirt he'd picked would probably be huge on him, but that didn't seem to be a problem for him in the slightest. It had some cartoon mascot on it that he didn't recognize, seeming to be a yellow bear in a red shirt of his own. Shadow hesitantly checked the doorway again before he slipped it over his own head after setting his blankie down, gently, on the bed. He struggled getting his quills through at first, but eventually popped his head through. Something didn't feel quite right though... He looked down at himself, arms tucked underneath the shirt, the little guy not quite understanding how the sleeves were supposed to work.

At that very moment, Sonic sped past the bathroom, somehow already dried off, Tom calling down the hall for him to slow down. "Sonic, you know we're not supposed to run in the house!" he playfully scolded, a small laugh escaping him as he now stood at his own bedroom door. Shadow froze, not even needing to turn around as he realized the predicament he was in. He was frozen in place, his flight or fight at a standstill as he instead froze. "...Shadow?" Tom asked hesitantly, gently, after a moment. Shadow flinched, standing there with flushed cheeks as he didn't know what to do, or how to explain what he was trying to do before he was walked in on.

Not saying another word, not wanting to scare the kid, he closed the door softly, making his way over to Shadow. He crouched down next to him, taking it slow and gently, not wanting to make him flinch or jump again. Tom couldn't help the smile that had now formed on his lips as he saw his shirt hanging down to Shadow's knees. "Let me help ya bud... Is it okay to touch?" He asked before even attempting to put a handout. Once given the slightest of nods after nearly ten seconds of silence, he took a hold of one of the short sleeves, trying to guide Shadow's hand. "You gotta put your arm through here, okay?"

Shadow hesitantly did as he was told but couldn't take his eyes off of Tom. How was he being so calm about this, acting like it was normal? It was a stark contrast from how he looked at him when they had first met, and it was surreal to Shadow. The gentle touch of a father's hand was foreign but not unwelcome. He found himself strangely not pulling away as Tom took his hand and guided it through the sleeve, then doing the same with his other hand. Tom knew it was better to leave all of his questions unanswered. One wrong step, and he wouldn't hear from Shadow for weeks, the prideful hedgehog taking even the smallest of questionings harshly. Either way, he already had a bit of a guess of what he was seeing.

"You like it?" He asked with a tender smile once he'd gotten the shirt straightened out and on correctly. Shadow hid his face in his blankie, feeling ashamed of how much he enjoyed something that seemed so small and simple to everyone else in the house.

Before Tom could coax an answer out of him, Maddie called for the kiddos, trying to round them up in the living room for lunch. Tom held his arms open, offering to carry Shadow. It was always hit or miss if Shadow would let anyone pick him up... bud today... he let himself walk into Tom's arms, nuzzling his face in the fabric of his blankie that he held onto, sat atop his father's shoulder. "Let's go get some food in your tummy, yeah?"

As Tom carried him into the living room, the other three kiddos weren't even really paying attention, Tails and Sonic competeing to see who can stack the tallest "cracker sandwich" while Knuckles was filling up on the grapes while they watched the movie Maddie had turned on. Maddie however, couldn't help but raise a brow at the hedgehog in Tom's arms, strangely docile and clingy. Not that it was a bad thing, just something she wasn't expecting. Tom sat Shadow down next to the other boys... or tried to. Shadow was oddly very attached to Tom all of a sudden, almost as if he'd regressed into an even smaller headspace than before. Not wanting to draw any extra attention by asking about it, Tom sat down instead, holding Shadow in his lap. Shadow made no move to take any of the food, but watched the other three, trying to gauge what he should do here.

Being the literal Ultimate Lifeform, Shadow didn't need to eat or drink, nor was he accustomed to doing so. But when Maddie offered him a sippy cup similar to the ones the other three had, Shadow accepted it with hesitance, but almost instantly began to sip from it when he saw Sonic take a sip from his. He laid his head against Tom's chest, watching the movie, blankie in one hand, sippy in the other.

This family life really wasn't so bad... Nobody judged or expected anything of him... Nothing hurt and he was... safe? Safe. Yeah, that's the word he was looking for.

[madthetruemad]

what if it wasn't a burden (it never was to begin with) | sung jinwoo x disabled reader

You didn't hate the idea of soulmates, not at all. However, being wheelchair bound wasn't exactly something you considered ideal for your fated to be to see. Even as you push your wheels forward, you deeply hope you never run into them. Seeing as how you'll never walk again, you hated the fact that if you did meet your soulmate, you'll just end up being a burden to them. That's what you hated. Well, until your soulmate proved you wrong, but that wouldn't be till much much later.

You wondered what different colors actually looked like instead of the monochromatic world that you are so used to seeing. The black, white, and grey hues shining through different tints and shades being as dull as your thoughts.

Much like what you would see in those romance manga, soulmates existed here. Though, you honestly hoped you never met yours even if it would two things happening. One, you would finally meet your fated to be and live happily-ever-after and two, the world would burst into color.

However…, your fingers absently tapped away at at the armrest of your wheelchair. Your legs weren’t exactly working right now. They did, at one point, but an accident had happened, and, well, you hoped that you never met your soulmate. You loathed the fact that you might be a burden to them, and you definitely didn’t want to see the sympathetic look on their face or the look of disappointment either.

“OW!”

You winced as you rubbed your forehead, your eyes squinting at the culprit as you furrowed your brow at her, “what was that for?!”

Your friend who was sitting across from you grinned as stirred her straw into her drink, “you were having those self-deprecating thoughts again.”

You frowned as you stopped rubbing your forehead and grabbed your own drink. The small café you both were in was quiet, but it still had a little hustle and bustle as everyone moved around.

“How can you even tell?”

Your friend took a sip of her too sugary drink before answering, “it’s that look on your face.”

“My look?”

“Yeah, you just.. look so sad. I don’t know, it’s hard to describe your expression sometimes. Like it’s a sad emotion I never felt before so I can’t exactly put into words? Does that make sense?”

“I guess?”

The conversation went from there. You too talked about all sorts of things. But work was usually the main topic you both settled on at the end as she stood up to toss her empty cup and then went over to grab the handles of your wheelchair.

“H- hey, you don’t need to do that! I can push myself!”

You hated being a burden to others.

“Oh, shut up and let me do this.”

You grumbled to yourself as you both left the café.

“Anyway,” she started, “how’s the life of being a famous author? Got any new book ideas swirling in that head of yours?”

“Not really? I guess I am just in a writer’s block…, but how about you? You’re a hunter…, your work must be far more exciting than mine.”

“The only exciting thing is not getting hurt and winding up in the hospital like this one E-rank I know.”

You know who she’s talking about but can’t place his name.

“Well, I’m glad you don’t get badly hurt-,” you were cut off when her phone dinged. It was same sound for when she gets a notification for a job.

“Dang it,” she said as she checked it once we got to a crosswalk.

“Something wrong?”

“This one is immediate and… I kind of need the rent money.”

You smiled and shooed her away, “better get going then, we can hangout again tomorrow if you’re free.”

“You sure?”

“You need the rent money.”

“R- right,” she said sheepishly as you took control of your wheelchair, “I’ll see you around?”

You nodded, “see ya.”

She gave you a hug from behind before turning to jog down the street. Sighing to yourself, you turned back forward and waited for the crosswalk to turn green and by this point a lot of people started to form up at the line. And it wasn’t until it turned green and everyone started walking did you hear another notification, most likely for another hunter.

“Mann, it’s the other way-“

Your eyes widened as the man in front of you turned and accidentally bumped his foot against your leg and almost instantaneously did your world burst with color. Everything was so bright as you squinted. Your eyes were basically being assaulted by all the different hues affronting your eyeballs, “holy-“

“I’m so sorry-!”

You both stopped and looked at one another, it didn’t take a genius to know what just happened even as you both got your bearings.

“Come on! Move it brats!”

The man who hit your leg and made your world fill with color was pushed back the other way as you were forced forward, and once you both were on another sides of the streets both crowds seemed to move you two along. Neither of you being able to catch a full glimpse of the other before you found yourself alone and the man nowhere in sight.

“I wasn’t even able to open my mouth to ask his name…”