#but even if I weren’t I’d still be peeved

[terrainofheartfelt]

The thought of a fried chicken sandwich truly the only thing getting me through this day

[casurlaub]

over 30 years old - @wolfstarmicrofic - words: 803

“They like you,” said Sirius as he watched Remus intently over the brim of his glass. An hour ago, the kitchen had been filled with voices, but now it was just him and Remus left, like it had been the previous night before the Weasleys had all arrived at Grimmauld Place. The fire danced on the amber liquid in his glass, illuminating the left side of his face and painting the kitchen in specks of red and gold. He took a sip, slowly, still watching Remus. “They respect you.” He lowered his glass, lips twitching. “Of course they got the completely wrong measure of you.”

Remus hummed, eyes set on the fireplace. “That wouldn’t be my fault.”

“Of course not,” said Sirius. The smile was audible in his voice.

“It isn’t.” Remus barely suppressed his own smile. “I used ‘Waddiwasi’ on Peeves on one of my first days,” he said, eyes flickering to Sirius. He thought of third year when it had been a marble, not gum, that Sirius, not Remus, had shot up Peeves’ nose.

If Sirius’s expression was anything to go by, he thought of the exact same thing. “I’m sure he had it coming.”

“He messed with Filch’s broom cupboard,” said Remus, fighting the urge to fiddle with the strap of his tea bag, an urge that left him a little confused. To say the last fourteen years had been challenging was like saying Dumbledore was a rather talented wizard, but at least adulthood had made him a little calmer. He hadn’t picked at his nails for over a decade and hadn’t even felt the urge to. But now… Now it felt like his fingers were twitching with the need to do something. And he didn’t know why.

Sirius just raised an eyebrow. “And?”

Remus exhaled and the twitching in his fingers stopped. He was sure he would have got away with his explanation with anyone else. But this single word, this simple syllable, tugged at something inside him.

Of course they got the completely wrong measure of you.

And Remus bent like a blade of grass, and willingly so. He smiled at Sirius and took a sip of tea. “He called me loony, loopy Lupin,” he told his mug.

“How dare he,” said Sirius, but there was no heat in it. His eyes had gone completely soft. “I should think that nickname would be reserved for a very exclusive club.”

Remus smiled to himself, thinking of first year when Peeves had come up with that nickname after having watched Remus have a conversation with one of the portraits - Sir Cadogan, at that. How James had made an effort to 'reclaim' it, never mind that there was no reclaiming a nickname that had never been Remus’s before. How Sirius had joined in eagerly. How both he and James had got really mad when some other Gryffindor had dared call Remus it. How Peter-

“Very exclusive indeed,” said Remus, forcing himself to lift his eyes again. Sirius was still looking at him and had been for a while, as far as Remus could tell. There was a strange flutter of nerves in his stomach, and it made no sense that it was there now because now it was just the two of them.

This was just Sirius.

Remus pushed it down, chalked it up to the exhausting evening they had had with too many people, and to narrowly escaping death during their ‘cleaning,’ then said, “But I’d appreciate it if its remaining member wouldn’t pick up that old habit. I feel it might undermine the respect thing a bit if I was called ‘loony Lupin.’”

“I won’t,” said Sirius without missing a beat. “As long as I get to keep ‘Moony’.”

It was the first time either of them addressed the nickname thing that seemed to be drifting between them ever since Sirius had called him ‘Moony’ a few days ago when they had still been back at Remus’s and not in this gloomiest of all houses.

The thing was that it wasn't just a nickname. The names were heavy with memories of better, brighter times when it hadn’t just been the two of them left. They sounded like James’s laughter, tasted like the Halloween feast at Hogwarts, felt like a warm ray of sunshine down by the lake.

But they weren’t only happy memories - as with everything, it came at a price. Two other names, one of which they never used, clung to them. And still, Sirius asked him whether…

Sirius raised his eyebrows, very slightly. But enough to emphasize.

This was a statement. A choice and a promise alike.

It won’t drag us apart. Not this time.

Remus met his eyes. The strange flutter was back. And the words fell from his lips. “You know you’ll always have ‘Moony.’”

[devillime]

Okay I’d like to talk about the treatment of the side characters and how empty the world feels so this is not proof read or anything this is a rant

Firstly

The world

We know that other students are there i understand that making a game takes time but for crying out loud the whole world of devildom feels so empty and yes we have the Little D’s but they are mainly in the castle with barbatos so they are practically diavolo servants like barbatos and even the recent event we are helping barbatos with serving nobles

NOBLES

Which is just baffling to me because games like arcana twilight that came out after obey me and are clearly inspired by obey me at least feels alive do we see full body sprites no of course not but we this

We can see what the characters look like to get a better understanding of how they look yet in obey me nothing really now I know if I remember CORRECTLY Nightbringer will be a continuation of the original game but it’s honestly stupid how a game like a obey me that been out longer than arcana twilight feels so empty

I’m asking for but if you want to write a good story and make me fee apart of it then take a moment to let us explore how the world works on OUR own.

Secondly

The side characters

Don’t get me wrong I love the brothers but I also love the side characters just as much but it’s ridiculous on how little screen time they have now is crazy not to mention the treatment of the new characters

First diavolo HES THE FUTURE KING OF HELL FOR CRYING OUT LOUD I believe he should get enough screen time but no the devs go against it

And before anyone say “well originally the side characters weren’t dateable” I only started playing after they were dateable but are doing some research the “side characters” have been dateable for a good while to the point they technically be considered they are perusing the mc minus Luke

So why are they still getting shit on by the devs? Probably because when most people think of the game they think of the brothers but honestly which character peaked your interest before playing the game because for me it was diavolo

And don’t get me started on the new characters this is more of a pet peeve with the fandom but why do you guys mischaracterize Mephistopheles and Raphael? Raphael has a similar if not same personality as belphie yet a lot of people say belphie is being cute while Raphael is being rude and Mephistopheles I’m sorry Lucifer fans but think of it from Mephistopheles perspective I’d be piss to if I was born to practically be someone right hand man only to get cased aside for something new?

A lot of you guys had mischaracterize thirteen when she came out but the devs oh god we barely seen thirteen and Mephistopheles in Nightbringer now Raphael I can kinda understand but the two that are in devildom with us don’t show up? That’s a joke like seriously

At this point why did they add them if they don’t appear as much hell I dare say obey me could have been a yandere otome game where the brothers became yandere after making a pact with the mc and the side characters like Solomon and Mephistopheles noticed this and try and help us but Solomon can’t tell Simeon and Luke because another war might break out again

But that’s all I have to say I brought up the world building or lack of in the official obey me server and people seem to say “but it be more pressure on the devs” I get that but this game gets a lot of money and I’m pretty sure it’s more pressure if they can’t keep the story straight because after lesson 40 I’m pretty sure we all have questions

And please PLEASE LET US SEE THE SIDE CHARACTERS MORE IN THE ANIME PLEASE

Rant off

[lingeringmirth]

Written horribly late for @steddie-week day 4. body swap. I'm so peeved that work swamped me and I couldn't finish the week when it was on-going, but better late than never?

Rated: M | Words: 600 | tags: body swap, pre-steddie, banter, post- S4

Also on AO3!

”Fucking hell!” Eddie stared into the mirror, Steve Harrington’s dumb-struck reflection looking back at him.

He’d fallen asleep in his own bed, but it wasn’t where he woke up. No. He woke up in Steve Harrington’s horrible plaid bedroom in the Harrington house, confused and a little bit scared… and apparently having swapped minds with Steve.

If he hadn’t lived through the horror of the spring break from hell he would have been panicking a hell of a lot more, which didn’t mean he wasn’t panicking quite a bit right now. But… when taken in the context of horrible and great things actually existing, a little bit of body swap wasn’t the worst thing. Maybe?

Still, what the actual fuck?

Despite his shock, or maybe emboldened by it, he really wanted to take a peek under the boxers Steve had worn to bed. Sue him, he was but a man and Steve Harrington was a specimen. His eyes caught on the scars over Steve’s sides, which he had seen before, and travelled up to focus on his glorious hairy chest, where some scars also shone through the thicket.

Of course.

Some of the scars matched Eddie’s own, althoughhe’d been injured worse and had been in the hospital for a month and in PT for six times that long. Point was, the bites must have connected the them somehow, strange as it was. He had been having an X-rated dream about Steve last night, too.

The shrill ringing of the phone interrupted him just as he was sliding his fingers under the waistband of Steve’s plaid boxers, as if the walls weren’t enough.

”Eddie?”

Having his own name frantically said to him in his own voice was a bit dizzying, more surreal than seeing someone else’s face looking back at him from a mirror.

A choked noise came from the other end of the line, like someone had swallowed a lemon.

”Hell! What is this?”

”What’s what?” Eddie had to be a little bit teasing, maybe even petty, as he regretfully drew his hand away, lamenting that he wouldn’t, at least for the moment, get to see, or feel, what Steve Harrington had in his boxers.

”Munson! You know what! I woke up in your bed, in your body, and not like I’d ---”

Oh-ho. Interesting. The grin felt a bit different on Steve’s face, but Eddie knew he was grinning wide enough to split his face. Had Steve been dreaming about him, too?

”Not like…” he wheedled, voice sing-songy.

There was a groan. ”Fuck it. Not like I’d imaged being inside your body.”

Eddie short-circuited despite having been pretty sure what Steve would say. But imagining it wasn’t quite the same as hearing it.

”You’re gay?!”

That could have come out a bit better.

”Bisexual.” He could just see the smirk he heard in his own voice, which was weird as fuck.

”I’m gay,” he blurted, brain still scrambling to catch up with the situation, all his inhibitions, scarce as they were, fleeing the scene.

A huff. ”I know. You’re not subtle.”

”Wanna try seeing if fucking will fix this?”

What was his mouth even saying at this point? Bad brain, bad!

”Fuck yes.” Was that a whimper? Eddie hadn’t known he sounded like that. ”I’ll be right over.”

Eddie was left with the dial tone and a raging hard-on in the horrible plaid boxers, letting himself have permission to peek. Steve was coming over with the intention to fuck him, just couldn’t get too carried away with it.  

Maybe a body swap wasn’t that bad, after all?

[not-alien-girl-v]

Never Be (Rory Keaner)

warning: me being lonely so i include too much detail of readers life and friends and beautiful house and neighborhood so i don’t feel as bad about my own ugly life <33 escapism?? i think so

note: here’s the song of the day / song to listen to while you read. or don’t. i can’t tell you what to do

⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:*⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆

Something about an elephant, a warehouse, and a blond head of hair. These were the only major parts of your dream that you could remember before the doorbell is suddenly ringing rapid-fire. You're awakened by it, however, you close your eyes to see if your parents are going to answer, but you spring into action the moment you remember your current situation.

Your parents are out of town for the weekend, so unfortunately, it would have to be up to be you to answer the door, which also meant you would have to leave your insanely comfortable bed. Curses.

The hardwood floors are ice cold even through your fluffy socks, and the t-shirt and pajama pants you wore to bed do nothing to make you any bit warmer.

You twist your hand around the banister of the staircase as you make your way downstairs, shivering at the lack of heat in the house, and you stop at the door to glance through the peephole. Through the small hole, you observe the same blond head of hair you had been previously dreaming about, and suddenly, the notion of leaving bed on such a cold day doesn't seem all that bad.

You twist the lock open and swing the door on it's hinges, smiling at the boy standing before you, joined with 4 of your best friends trailing behind, being Ethan, Benny, Erica, and Sarah.

If it weren’t for his vampiric endurance, he’d be panting out of breath at your doorstep, but he’s completely perfect as he stands before you and grins widely. By your arm, he pulls you into a tight hug that you’re glad you didn’t have to ask him for.

Erica pushes past you with a huff, not genuinely upset, just her natural peeved state, “get a room, you two.” You know she is going straight for your bedroom to raid your movie collection.

“This is my house,” you counter but it falls on deaf ears as she’s already most of the way up the stairs when you say it.

Rory’s still holding you tightly as you pat his back to let him know to let you go and he does, reluctantly, his touch lingering on the curve of your shoulder while he slips past you into the house.

It’s Benny and Ethan’s turn for a greeting now, and Benny holds up two of the latest installments of the Scream franchise, the 3rd and 4th movies, he waves them in one hand in front of your face.

“It’s your lucky day. Someone,” he points to himself, “figured out the basic spell of persuasiveness and got the deal of a lifetime over at Blockbuster. Two movies for the price of free!”

“The price of free?” You question. Him, Ethan, and Sarah follow you into the house and you close the door behind them, locking it.

“The price of free! It’s too bad the spell calls for such obscure ingredients, else I’d be able to do it all the time. How hard is it to find an albino dragon’s tongue, anyway?”

“Pretty hard. There’s only ever been 2 sightings of it in history and one of them was you last Christmas,” Ethan corrects.

“Hey it’s not my fault Rory’s so pale and knows how to fly! He’s practically translucent, reflective in the moonlight!”

“Is that, like, a vampire thing?” Ethan asks.

“Nope, just a Rory thing,” you answer, and lead rh all to the couch, seeing that Rory has collected a number of snacks from your kitchen, along with a plethora of pillows and a variety of blankets, and he’s thrown them loosely over the couch in front of your TV, which Erica is fussing with, inserting the fourth Scream movie, which has only just came out, and the 6 of you have been rewatching the previous one over and over in preparation for this release. Why did they have to wait 11 years in between 3 and 4?

Benny shovels handfuls of cookies into his mouth, soon becoming a game by the addition of Ethan, trying to see who can fit more in one’s mouth at a time without choking.

Rory’s about to jump out of his seat on the couch when you plop down next to him. He blushes at the closeness.

“Good morning,” you say to him, wondering if it’s too late now to say it.

“Good morning. Are you excited for the movie? I heard the cast is super good this time!” His step is too peppy for so early in the morning, maybe he stole some of his fathers coffee before he left home this morning.

His home, there’s something so wonderfully cozy and peaceful about his home. He has a mom, a dad, an older sister and a younger brother, and an orange cat named Garfield.

His house is the warmest home in the winter, his bed the softest, you wish you were over there instead of here, but you still have him by your side, so you’re not complaining too much.

You look at his face closely, “hey, remember when you used to wear glasses?”

He laughs, “heck yeah, I remember. My frames were so heavy, they recommended physical therapy for my entire face to support the weight of them.”

You scoot in, half because Sarah’s taken a seat next to you and half because you want to cuddle with your boyfriend. You lean into him, and let his arm fall around your shoulder, throwing one leg over both of his.

When Benny is distracted beefing with Ethan, you steal a cookie from the jar he’s clutching tightly in his hands. Breaking it in half, you hand one over in Rory’s direction only to find him waiting with an open mouth, and you gigglingly place it in his awaiting mouth.

Sarah is the designated ‘remote man’ and she’s not letting anyone else steal the duty from her, it’s hers and hers alone.

The group of you settle into your spots as the opening scene begins of the 3rd movie.

After an hour in, you begin to get restless, and you combat it by excusing yourself to walk out back, exiting through the back gate.

Your backyard is scenic. The ever green grass is lush within the confines of your back fence, but once you exit and continue further, there is a quaint little creek that flows right by.

When you were little, you and Sarah used to hunt for crawdads and give them names. It wasn’t until the 3rd grade that you learned some of the crawdads were boys and they shouldn’t all have been given girl names, but it was too late at that point. You wonder if Sarah still remembers it as vividly as you do.

You wonder if in 100 years, all your immortal friends that were once little children alongside yourself will have forgotten these humble roots from which they grow.

Rory, Sarah, Erica, they will go on being eternal teenagers, and you will grow old and gray and one day you’ll die and you hope for the sake of yourself, they won’t stick around that long to see the worst of it.

And Rory, he’s only 15 and he will always be 15. To start out with, you were already a year older than him, then a year of vampirism passed and you turned 17, things will only get worse the longer you hold things off and choose not to talk about these very real and serious issues.

You’ve resorted to sitting on a large, stable rock down by the creek to temporarily sort out your thoughts.

“Y/N?” You hear him call, he’s at the top of the small hill of your backyard, you’re far down below, and when he spots you there, he easily descends the trail of shaky shifty tiny rocks with ease, unlike your wobbling endeavor.

You glance up at him, “hey.”

He’s concerned, he comes and pushes you to the right to make space for him on the rock you sit on. “What’s going on?”

“What do you mean?” You play dumb, and a lot of times, it works with him.

“You know what I mean.” Ugh, you hate when he gets reasonable. It’s awkward and uncomfortable, seeing him so grave and severe when he talks about the things that bother you. It’s good that he doesn’t take your issues lightly, but it’s still odd to see him so committed to something in this way.

You huff out a sigh and lean into his side. He lets you. “What are we even doing?”

“Oh, well we’re almost finished with the movie in there, but you and I are sitting at the creek.”

“I mean like, in the long run. Like, in 10 years? I’m gonna be… 27. And you’ll be 15. I’ll be too old to be this in love with you but I don’t think I can just stay friends. Maybe with Sarah and Erica, but not you, never you.”

“So what are you saying?” He’s pretty sure he knows but he wants you to elaborate anyway, last time he assumed he knew what you were thinking, he found himself waking up in the trunk of the principal’s car. It’s a long story.

“I’m saying that I’m going to die. I have about 70 more years, maybe less, then I’m out of here. Forever. And in those 70 years, you’re just going to be, what? My 15 year old friend? How are we supposed to keep going like this? Even in a few years, I’ll already be a grown adult, and I can’t expect you to string me along on your eternal teenage shenanigans. I’ll have my own life to live.”

“But don’t you want that? Didn’t you always say you wanted to live your life?”

“Only if it’s with you. It’s not living if it’s not with you.”

He turns and takes both of your hands in his and he holds them like you’re a fragile insect to his predatory species, which there is truth in, in this case. “Just tell me what to do.”

“I can’t tell you what to do.”

“Just tell me how I can fix this. For you, what can I do to fix this?”

Air puffs out your mouth like it’s a statement in itself, like a simple sigh will tell him there’s nothing you can say to him, that it’s his decision, if he chooses to make it. You haven’t spoken about this part before.

Frogs croak behind bushes and crustaceans wade in the shallow water that rushes past in a sauntering manner.

“I’ll become human again. I’ll find a way, go to the ends of the earth. Is that what you want? Do you want that?”

You aren’t sure what to say. You never are, but especially not now.

“I could turn you. We could be this way forever, but together. Nothing would have to change too much.”

“But is that what you want?”

He shakes his head confused. When is he not confused? “It doesn’t matter what I want, you’re the one who’s unhappy, it’s my job to fix that, I’d do anything-“

“But it shouldn’t be all about what I want, this has to do with you, too. It’s your decision to make.”

He stands up suddenly, pacing around. “So it’s on me to decide? I have to make the choice?”

You just nod.

“I can’t do that, I can’t- why can’t things just stay the way they are? Things are good. I like this, why do we have to change?”

“Because we can’t go anywhere!” You don’t mean to snap at him. You’ve never done that before, never had a reason to and never even had an urge to, but it truly just slipped out, without any control.

And you wish you could control the way he feels, but as tears start brimming his eyes, you know you can’t, you never can.

“I’m sorry, I just, I need to go,” you speak to him and swiftly scale the hill up the creek, hopping on your bike leaning against your back shed, and you take of speeding down the deserted suburban street you live on.

⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:*⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆

[sallowsdiary]

Today, I discovered that the Hogwarts kitchens are both a blessing and a curse, but mostly a curse—a sticky, treacle-filled curse. Let me explain.

It all started this morning when I realized I had skipped breakfast. Don’t ask me how it happened. It’s a mystery even to me. Perhaps I was too engrossed in perfecting my signature smirk in the mirror. Regardless, by the time Potions class rolled around, I was starving.

So, I did what any resourceful person would do: I decided to sneak down to the kitchens during lunch break. It was a flawless plan—well, it was supposed to be. I’d slip in, charm the house-elves with my undeniable charisma, and sneak out with a feast worthy of a Gaunt family reunion.

The problem started when I entered the kitchens and was immediately mobbed by a dozen overenthusiastic house-elves. They seemed to think I was there to inspect their work or something. They kept shoving trays of food at me, babbling on about how they’d made extra treacle tart just for me. Now, don’t get me wrong, I love a good treacle tart as much as the next wizard, but this was excessive.

I tried to explain that I only needed a quick snack, maybe a pastry or two, but the house-elves weren’t having it. Before I knew it, I was buried under a mountain of treacle tarts, scones, pumpkin pasties, and what I can only describe as an alarming amount of kippers. They were practically force-feeding me.

Then, as if things weren’t chaotic enough, Peeves floated in through the ceiling, cackling like a lunatic. He spotted me struggling to escape the tsunami of baked goods and decided that I looked like I needed some help. His idea of “help” was to overturn a cauldron of leftover custard all over me. I was drenched, sticky, and more than a little annoyed.

The worst part? Just as I was about to make my escape, the door swung open, and who should walk in but Professor Sharp, of all people. There I was, covered in custard and crumbs, surrounded by a horde of frantic house-elves, and still holding a half-eaten treacle tart. I’d never seen Sharp raise an eyebrow so high. He looked at me like I was some kind of rogue pudding.

He didn’t say a word—just gave me one of those looks, the kind that makes you feel like you’ve just suggested adding glitter to a potion. I managed to stammer out something about a “Potions experiment gone wrong” and bolted out of there before he could question me further. I’m sure my dignity is still lying somewhere under a pile of kippers.

So, here I am, back in the common room, smelling faintly of treacle and contemplating my life choices. I think it’s safe to say that my next visit to the kitchens will involve a lot more planning and a lot fewer house-elves.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to take about a dozen showers and then pretend this day never happened.

—Sebastian

[silverhallow]

Strangers All At Once: Love the Hell out of You - Epilogue

Strangers All At Once Masterpost

Prev | Next

You got your demons, spent seasons on the dark side of the moon Don't try denying 'cause you know that I've been there too Right now, I know how it feels like the world's gonna end But I'll get you through if it's the last thing I do

I'm gonna love the hell out of you Take all the pain that you're going through I'll bring you heaven if that's what you need 'Cause you've always loved the hell out of me

The following morning Sophie made her way down to the kitchen, ignoring the delicious ache in her limbs from her evening with Benedict, to be greeted by four very tired, covered in icing sugar, fondant and food colouring people.

“Have you been up all night?” she asked, looking at Michael and Phillip who were still just about standing at the bench and then at Eloise and Francesca, both of whom were slumped over the counter, coffee cups in hand, clearly asleep.

“Yes” Michael said a little hysterically, “we can’t get the bloody jasmines right”

Sophie chuckled lightly “it’s fine, don’t worry about it. I didn’t actually expect you to stop up all night. Go get some sleep. Ben and I can put the rest of this together” 

“But the decorations” Phillip asked

“Are actually already done… this was a minor punishment” Sophie grinned

“MINOR?” Michael yelled, waking Eloise and Francesca up.

“What’s going on…” Eloise said tiredly rubbing her eyes

“SOPHIE HAS THE DECORATIONS ALL READY MADE”

“What?” said Francesca looking a little peeved.

“I didn’t expect them to rope you two in but it was punishment, or part of it anyway… for breaking my bloody oven!” Sophie scowled at Mike, who’s anger quickly faded as he remembered that Sophie knew about that.

“You broke her oven?” Francesca asked bewildered

“And he still has his life and balls?” Eloise asked, shocked.

“Hence why it’s some…” Sophie said “but unless you want to stop and finish building the cake. Clear off” 

Michael and Phillip ran out of the kitchen before Sophie yanked them back in. Eloise and Francesca followed them but as they left Sophie called out “El… btw if you ever go into my office at the cafe again, i’m going to stop making the treats you like…”

Sophie heard the squeak and then Benedict appeared in the kitchen, the three trays of decorations retrieved from Sophie’s car “she went as pale as the icing there”

“Good” Sophie grinned making her way over, dropping a kiss onto Benedict’s cheek “shall we get on with this?”

Benedict nodded and they set to work.

The finished cake took them most of the day to complete and as they completed the cake, Benedict celebrated by picking Sophie up and spinning her around before placing her on the counter and kissing her.

It was at that moment that Kate and Anthony came in, unaware that Sophie and Benedict were back together and it was a yell of “What the fuck!” coming from Anthony and a cheer from Kate that broke them apart, causing them both to flush bright red.

“What the hell is going on?” Anthony asked 

“Is it obvious?” Kate replied, swatting him and rolling her eyes.

“We finished the cake,” Benedict said rather dumbly.

“Not shit Sherlock, but I was referring to you two…” Anthony said

“Again… obvious isn’t it?” Kate chuckled. “Clearly they’re back together, your mum’s meddling worked, didn’t it?”

Sophie blushed and nodded “it did…”

“Good, now can you move away from our wedding cake, i’d rather it not have any sex fluids on it” Kate said with a wicked grin, which caused Benedict and Sophie to blush even further.

“We weren’t… I wouldn’t…” Sophie stammered

“Oh i know but come on, we’ve got the rehearsal for tomorrow and I want to know all the details” Kate said, grabbing Sophie’s arm and dragging her away as Anthony turned to Benedict.

“Are you okay… i mean you said…” Anthony said carefully, wanting to make sure Benedict was actually on board with him and Sophie.

“It was all a lie. She left because she heard part of our conversation two years ago when i said I wasn’t going to ask her to marry me tomorrow. Only she didn’t hear the tomorrow. I would actually marry her tomorrow instead of you and Kate… unless you want to double up” Benedict beamed.

Anthony laughed “no thanks. But that is way to quick… you have literally been together 24 hours maybe?”

“Something like that but I am going to ask her to marry me, but maybe at Christmas instead” Benedict grinned

Anthony rolled his eyes “probably still too quick”

“Don’t care. I listened to everyone last time and it bit me in the arse and left me heart broken for two years. I love her and she loves me, i know she’s it for me” Benedict said stubbornly.

“Fair… but you do realise it means we’re gonna have married best friends” Anthony said “and we’ll never have a moments peace…”

“As long as we don’t manage to knock them up at the same time…” Benedict said.

“WILL YOU TWO HURRY UP!” Kate yelled

Leaving neither of them a chance to reply.

The wedding was beautiful, the sun shone over Aubrey Hall and Newton was the perfect ring bearer, and Hyacinth made Gregory sneeze by shoving rose petals in his face.

But Benedict, nor Sophie remembered any detail of the day, other than each other.

They found themselves transported to their own wedding day. As Benedict has said to his brother, Benedict did propose to Sophie over Christmas, waiting until New Years Eve and as the clock was counting down to Midnight, he got down on one knee and asked her the question he’d been itching to ask since the morning after they got back together.

They moved in with one another within a week of Kate and Anthony’s wedding as Sophie’s flat above the cafe was engulfed in smoke and became uninhabitable, even the cafe had to be shut for two months, after the man Michael had asked to come fix the oven, made it worse.

Michael avoided Sophie for as long as he could, he had still been waiting for his punishment for breaking the oven in the first place and he was terrified. 

But it was Belinda’s christening that forced him to see her.

He looked sheepish and hid behind Francesca for most of it the christening and tried hiding at the party after at Aubrey Hall only for him to walk into the drawing room as Sophie was walking out.

He squeaked and out of sheer shock dropped his entire glass of red wine down the front of Sophie in her light blue dress.

“Shit. shit. Shit!” he said but Sophie just rolled her eyes and hugged Michael. “What the fuck is that for?” he asked, completely taken aback.

“Breaking my oven” she grinned as Michael looked at her like she’d lost her mind.

“How much have you had to drink?” he asked her, wondering if she was drunk.

“Nothing. But if you’d not broken my oven, i’d have not gone to Aubrey and made up with Benedict, I'd have gone back to France and been miserable… and well now…” she grinned as she looked across the room at her boyfriend.

“But you… punishment…” Michael stammered

“I think you thinking that i’m going to do something was punishment enough” she grinned before walking away, leaving Mike standing there completely stunned.

It was from then onwards that Benedict had begun planning his proposal, he knew there was no way he could make it a public proposal as Sophie would kill him so he planned to sneak her out to the garden, where he knew the fireworks would be going off at Midnight and with about 10 minutes to go, it was where he would declare himself.

“Soph, i know we’ve had our ups and downs, we had a good start, those 100 days were the best 100 days of my life but I stupidly let others influence me and didn’t talk to you and i so nearly lost you for good, it took us time but we got there in the end… I never thought i’d be grateful for a fire, but I am. Waking up to you every morning, seeing your face before bed every night, is just how I want to spend the rest of my life. I know you have moments where the words that Araminta used to torment you with come crashing in, tormenting you and those demons are what I want to chase away. I’d Take all the pain that you're going through and I'll bring you heaven if that's what you need and in the moments when you feel half complete, I am going to love the hell out of you, if you’ll let me. You’re everything I ever wanted, everything i’ll ever need, so… that being said, I know you might think it’s too soon and i’m not say we have to do it tomorrow… but Sophie…” he dropped himself down onto one knee and finally, presented her the ring he’d picked out, the emerald and diamond ring that belonged to his grandmother, “will you marry me”

“Oh my god yes, yes, yes!” she squealed, throwing herself in his arms and kissing him just as the fireworks were set off.

It was the perfect setting, Aubrey Hall was the place where they’d fell apart and came back together, it would be the place 6 months after their engagement they would marry. It would be were they told the family they were expecting each of their four babies and be the place where they’d find the space to make their own home, their cottage, that the cafe was named after.

Benedict would be by her side when they reopened the cafe, having expanded it, making it larger. It would be the place Sophie told Benedict she was expecting their children, where she’d bake a cake to reveal that he was finally getting his wish in having a baby girl, and where he would discover his own love of baking and jam making and they would eventually run it together and teach their children, grandchildren and great grandchildren how to bake, before finally passing it over to William and his cousin Charlotte to run the 15 stores they ended up opening over the years.

They got back together over cake, so it was fitting that the cafe and cake was a big part of their life together and how, when they finally slipped away from this earth, just minutes apart holding hands well into their 90s, that their children, grand and great grandchildren would remember them, over cake in the original cafe.

[realmermaid333]

can you do protective Tyler him seeing Xavier keeps bothering Wednesday and Tyler does something about it

(for this idea to work i feel like Xavier needed to be an asshole, so I know he isn’t exactly like this but consider it an AU!)

Nearly everyday after school, Wednesday went to Jericho to sit in the Weathervane. She’d read, do homework, plan investigations and other shenanigans, and visit Tyler— today was no different. 

Tyler and Wednesday weren’t exactly dating, but they weren’t exactly not dating. Things had been rather complicated between them since Laurel went to prison and he returned from his therapy camp to attend Nevermore. At the very least, they were friends— perhaps friends who both had the suppressed urge to kiss. 

Wednesday was peacefully drinking her quad and re-reading Dracula when the most annoying thing happened; Xavier sat down across from her in her booth. It was always dreadful when he’d bother her— and not in a good way. She simply wanted a friendship with him, but he wanted more and he wouldn’t shut up about it. 

“What?” Wednesday asked, clearly peeved by his presence. 

He put his hands up in surrender, “Just coming to say hi! Jeez,”

“You say that, but usually when you talk to me it’s always more than that.”

The sound of Wednesday’s snappy voice caught Tyler’s attention, he looked up from the coffee he was making and saw that, unfortunately, she was speaking to Xavier. 

While it was none of Tyler’s business who Wednesday talked to, considering they weren’t officially dating and he’d never want to be controlling, he was worried because Wednesday didn’t like talking to Xavier. She always complained about him.

He was holding onto this delusional belief that he somehow had a chance with her, even though she made it extremely clear that she did not like him like that. No matter how many times she turned him down, he’d always return to bother her. 

“Are you here to ask me out for the hundredth time, Xavier?”

He smirked in a way that made Wednesday want to punch him, “One of these days I’m gonna grow on you whether you like it or not,” 

She slammed her book shut, “It seems no one taught you the definition of the word no, or maybe you are one of those foolish guys who thinks women don’t know what they want, but I do not like you. And this is not the first time I’ve told you,” 

Wednesday was speaking sternly enough that people at an adjacent table were looking at her. Tyler felt upset, perhaps protective, Xavier was troubling her and it didn’t look like he was backing off— he decided to interfere. 

“What if you went out with me, just once? I’m sure I could win your heart!” 

“The urge I have to hit you is very intense at the moment, I am greatly struggling to suppress it. It would be in your best interest to leave,” 

Tyler approached the table and stood next to Wednesday, “Is everything okay here?” 

“Yes,”

She glared at Xavier, “Absolutely not,”

“Are you bothering her?” Tyler asked calmly. 

“I’d use the word ‘infuriating’, actually,” 

Xavier shook his head, “How is it your business, monster boy? Are you her boyfriend or something?”

“Yes. Actually, he is,” said Wednesday. 

Tyler’s heart skipped a beat, his cheeks turned a rosy pink. Did Wednesday just say he was her boyfriend? Did she mean it? 

Xavier scowled as he got up and stormed out of the coffee shop. 

“Of course! I had to show him my boyfriend to get him to leave me alone. What a vile pig,”

Tyler beamed, “Wait… So you meant it?”

“Meant what?”

“That I am your boyfriend?”

“Of course,” Wednesday smiled a little, a small one, perhaps not visible to the average eye, but Tyler could see it. 

She stared at him for a moment with her mischievous smirk, watching his smile grow wider and his face turn redder— then opened up her book and casually went back to reading. 

Tyler returned to his spot behind the counter with a spring in his step, still smiling. How could he not? Wednesday Addams just said he was her boyfriend.

[hidingoutbackstage]

Hello! I’m back to talk about Resident Evil fandom misogyny! Are y’all sick of me yet? Too bad!

I know my source for this fucking sucks (it’s ao3) but since I’ve bitched about the horrible way RE fics on ao3 are somewhat reflective of the fandom before, and bc what I saw pissed me off, I’m gonna talk about it.

And unlike some people, if y’all don’t care about it, I’m gonna put it under a cut, and NOT post my annoying ramblings in the main tag as if they’re facts and not just my interpretations and criticism of fandom wide expression

So I was thinking about making a post saying “merry yaoimas (chreon) and a happy new yuri (femslash re ship)” with the latter parantheses actually holding an re ship. But that did make me pause and think, what was the most popular femslash re ship? I know I have my favorites (claida, chamberfield, and ashuela being most prominent), but I’m also aware that those are rarepairs and probably not indicative of the fandom as a whole.

The first thing I did was go to ao3, which, again, while not indicative of the fandom as a whole, is still large and worth looking at. These three under filters should’ve been my first clue that this was going to be abysmal

8.4k m/m fics. f/f isn’t even half of that. Now, when I saw this, I was disappointed but not surprised, and I stupidly saw the F/M being more popular and thinking “Oh right cuz Leon x female reader people are annoying” (keep this in mind for like two paragraphs later)

Anyway, I filtered it to only contain f/f pairings, so I could see which pairings were the most popular, and I genuinely had no idea. After all, most of the games in the series barely have women interact at all, so like, were people shipping Claire Redfield and Jill Valentine in 2000 because they were the only two female protagonists (who had also appeared in two games), even though they’d never interacted? Did the remakes and recent movies instill people with a love for Claire x Rebecca like I enjoyed? Or did we circle back to the late 90s due to the remakes of 2 and 3 where Claire and Jill were protagonists of big re games and thus people wanted to ship them?

In my foolish decision to think about, you know the main characters of the series that spawn multiple games and are iconic staples of the series’ existence as a whole, I forgot one thing: people on the internet are horny first, and human beings second

(gonna use that pic of my dog for image compression, even though this is under a read more)

Ngl, considering that I’d made multiple posts bitching about this very phenomenon, I was more than a little peeved, and also felt dumb for having forgotten about this. So first I decided to filter out the character tag “reader” and-

Um. I mean. What I meant to say, was that I then filtered out all of the relationships that just came from re8 “fans” being horny. Then I was left with this

So out of THAT list of ten ships, only six of them were actually f/f, the most popular having 120 fics and the least popular having 38. If you don’t feel like scrolling back up, there were 3913 fics in the re tag which were tagged with f/f

So I think, generally, that Claire/Jill is the most popular re f/f ship, at least in the ao3 community. Case closed, right?

Wrong. Now I had to see if that was actually true. Because if I know one thing about re writers, it’s that they include f/f as an afterthought or some background bs to a fic focused on a m/m ship

So I counted, and I did my best to split all fics where Claire/Jill were tagged into three types: background, focused, and given equal focus between them and one or more pairings. Some didn’t really fit, like fics that were just a collection of one shots (or more commonly, collection of short smuts) but those I also left out of the Claire/Jill focused count, because they weren’t focused on them. So after going through all 141 (yup that’s really all the Claire/Jill ships there are) fics, here’s the number I ended up with

82 fics where they were the focus ship

14 fics where they were given equal focus between one or more pairings

The rest (45) were neither

Not gonna lie, I was pretty relieved to see that fics where they were the focus was more than half of the total. And as I went further back, more fics focused on Claire/Jill as opposed to having them be a background ship. Also, for fun, I checked the ratings for Claire/Jill fics

And although I didn’t cross reference, I did generally notice a lot more of the fics focused on Claire/Jill were smut first, and fluff secondarily. Most of them too were also either one chapter (complete or incomplete) or generally just short. If a fic had many chapters/high word count, Claire/Jill almost always wasn’t the main ship, and sometimes shared the spotlight with another ship.

So is this reflective of the whole fandom? No, of course not. Is this indicative of a major problem with the fandom not caring about female characters? Yeah, literally all social media is indicative of it.

It’s not like the media itself is incredibly feminist, or full of meaningful character interactions between anyone, regardless of genders, it’s just not good at it and not really trying to be. But I will say that at large, the fandom does seem to prioritize m/m relationships, platonic or romantic, over female characters existences, their relationships to men, and fuck off if you think they care about relationships between women.

I do have a separate post coming about the lack of interactions between women in the media itself, but that’s for another day

[olivia-anderson-fanfic]

Into the Unknown, Part 56

First

Previous

Bruce stared at the group of people gathered at his front door, unsure. “You know, when I said you could invite more people, I was expecting… Tim and Damian. Not…” he motioned vaguely to Worse!Tim (the future heir to his rival company), Bernard (a guy who had forgone introducing himself in favor of asking whether it was true that Bruce was dating renowned art thief Selina Kyle), and Steph (Steph).

Worse!Tim’s face flushed. “Ah, sorry to intrude, I just… didn’t have anywhere else to go. We can leave, though, it’ll be nice to have the house to ourselves –.”

Bruce, whose expression had been getting progressively softer the longer Worse!Tim went on, sighed and clapped a hand atop the boy’s head, ruffling his hair. “Don’t worry about it. We have more than enough food to go around.”

He glanced at Steph, quietly asking for her tragic backstory.

“I’m a college student,” she said.

Bruce seemed to decide that he should just accept this. He stepped aside so everyone could file in.

Everyone except for Tim. He waited until their group was properly inside so he could close the door behind them, leaving the two of them in the cold. But they wouldn’t be out there for long, no worries, Bruce only had one question for him: “Did you… bring one of the company rivals to make sure that Marinette and I couldn’t talk about business over this trip?”

“... no,” said Tim, who made a mental note of the strategy for later.

~

Marinette complained about her physics final at length, beating up dough to get her anger out. Alfred, ever the comforting presence, nodded along easily enough, giving occasional ‘hm’ and ‘oh wow’ sounds to say that he was still listening and also just as peeved as her. Damian sat on the counter, chubby little legs swinging, watching the pair bustle about, daydreaming about what designs he wanted to pipe onto the cookies Marinette was baking…

Not a creature was stirring (no, Alfred was not a creature, and he would prefer the term ‘whisking’), and there were definitely no mice around.

It was peaceful.

Until.

“I can help you with your homework,” Damian offered. “I know lots of things.”

Marinette paused, her hand resting over her heart. “Ye… yeah. Of course, Dami, I’d love your help.”

Damian lit up. He pointed to the chocolate chips on the counter. “Can I…?”

Marinette nodded easily enough, figuring that he was going to use them to visually show addition, subtraction… maybe even multiplication or division, if the kid had even advanced that far in his studies. He would count out the chocolate chips and put them in neat, orderly rows, and probably eat a few but it would be fine because it was Hanukkah and the kid would feel fulfilled in the fact that he had ‘helped’.

Damian grabbed a fistful of chocolate and shoved it into his mouth unceremoniously.

And then the kid started explaining quantum physics to her, still snacking away on chocolate chips.

~

They all almost dared to think that Alfred and Marinette had gotten over their mini rivalry. There had been no arguing sounds coming from the kitchen (only, strangely, the sound of learning), so there couldn’t have been any competition this time. This thought was only confirmed by the fact that no foods were presented to them with the question of ‘which is better’. They were in the clear.

But then.

Bernard squinted at Marinette. “You’re acting weird.”

She blinked. “Hm?”

“You’re… watching us eat.”

Marinette gave him a confused little frown, but Tim knew her well enough to know that when she was actually confused she was more liable to blink, her brain taking the moment where her eyes were closed to process what was throwing her off without any distractions.

“Code red,” Tim said.

Several forks clattered onto plates as everyone immediately abandoned their food. Except for Steph, who was looking at them all like they were crazy, a roll halfway to her mouth.

Marinette smirked at Alfred. “I win,” she said. Because, as one of the few people who weren’t aware of their rivalry, and the only newcomer wary enough of the fact that everyone had stopped eating to abandon their food as well, had chosen a bread roll she had made.

Alfred huffed. Which was basically his equivalent of screaming and cursing.

“... can someone fill me in?” Steph asked.

Bruce sighed, rubbing the space between his brows. “Anyone up for Asian takeout?”

Everyone raised their hands.

Steph only looked more confused by this, but then she seemed to realize that this would mean she got to keep all of the leftovers and immediately nodded along.

~

Damian looked up at Jason, almost offended. “Why are you small?”

Jason didn’t know how to respond to that. He leaned to whisper in Marinette’s ear. “Does he know what malnutrition is?”

“Absolutely not, and you’re not going to teach him about it, either,” she hissed right back.

Jason nodded slowly. He looked back at Damian. “I’m one of Santa’s elves.”

“Dad says that Santa isn’t real, but we’re not supposed to tell anyone,” Damian said. And then he gasped and slapped his hands over his mouth. “Oh no.”

~

“You guys really do look alike,” Jason mused. “I’m surprised Damian can tell you two apart.”

“Oh, he can’t, he just goes by our outfits and hair,” said Worse!Tim.

“Oh.”

“It’s better than Mari,” Tim said, grinning when she immediately turned red. “The only reason we found each other was because she mistook him for me. I’m surprised she hasn’t tried to kiss him on accident yet.”

“I’m going to divorce you.”

“Make that joke enough and I’ll actually start to believe it,” Tim pretended to sniffle, before leaning to press a kiss to her cheek.

She stuck her tongue out at him.

He returned the gesture.

“God, they’re gross,” Jason stage-whispered to Steph.

“They’re usually worse,” she sighed.

“I don’t think they’re that bad,” said Worse!Tim.

“That’s because you and Bernard are just as awful.”

Bernard sputtered. “Hey? Why am I getting dragged into this?”

~

Damian was the baby of the family. Quite literally, seeing as he was very young in comparison to everyone else, who was of college age or above.

And one might assume that he would be annoyed by this, his pride not allowing them to treat him in such a way, he was a big man after all! Six years old!

However, (during the holidays, at least) he welcomed the treatment with open arms. Because said open arms would be filled with presents.

Dick sighed. “You’re spoiling him.”

“You were literally raised by a billionaire,” said Marinette.

Dick huffed, but then it was revealed that he couldn’t really talk because he got Damian designer shoes.

“He’s going to ruin those so fast,” said Tim.

“I’ll buy him more, then.”

“But we’re spoiling him,” Marinette snarked.

“I’m the cool uncle!” Dick argued. “I’m supposed to spoil him.”

“... I’m the cool uncle,” Jason said.

“Excuse me?” said Bernard.

“You’re not married in,” Jason pointed out the distinct lack of a wedding ring on the man’s finger.

“And Marinette hasn’t allowed herself to be adopted, which means I’m the only uncle he has, therefore the cool one by default,” Jimothy pointed out.

“Boys,” Bruce cut in. “You can all be cool uncles.”

They were all quiet for a moment.

“No, they can’t,” Jimothy decided.

The argument started up again, but everyone was laughing, and even Bruce didn’t seem to mind it all, even as he was dragged into the debate over whether Jason or Dick was ‘the cooler one’.

Tim poked Damian’s shoulder. “You can fix this, you know. Just say you think they’re all cool.”

“No. Less presents that way,” Damian decided.

Tim cooed over his ‘manipulative little guy’, ruffling his hair and handing him yet another present.

The others were still debating over who was the best in the background, but whatever.

“Not going to jump in?” Marinette asked Steph.

“Please. I’m the wine aunt.”

“You don’t drink.”

“I do in spirit.”

Marinette squinted at her, wondering whether the pun had been intentional, before sighing and deciding that arguing the point wasn’t worth it.

~

As they lit the final candle, Tim found himself smiling. Not only because of the tradition itself, or even because he was surrounded by so many people he cared about, but because his plan was working. Bruce and Dick hadn’t genuinely fought once, too distracted by the sheer size of the group and their accompanying shenanigans. Jason seemed more relaxed, too, now that the holidays didn’t necessarily mean dealing with people yelling at each other over the table.

Mission success!

Tim needed a nap.

~

Marinette pressed against her boyfriend’s side, watching as Damian played tug-of-war with Frank. Frank was definitely going easy on him, but he didn’t need to know that.

“You know…”  she turned to bury her face in his neck. “I wouldn’t mind actually getting married one day…”

Tim’s breath stuttered. He dragged her head out of hiding to look her in the eyes. “Really?”

She glanced away, giggling nervously. “Uh, yeah, I mean obviously we have to wait until we can get our friends and family back home to come, so we have a lot of time to consider –.”

She was cut off when he tugged her in for a kiss.

She melted a little, her anxiety fading away when she realized that he was smiling against her lips.

“I would love to,” he breathed.

She flushed. “Well, I love you.”

He rolled his eyes just slightly at her immediate need to one-up him, but his chuckle was nothing but fond and the hands cupping her face were perfectly warm.

“I love you, too.”

~~~~~

Next

@unoriginalmess @hammalammadamdam @astrynyx @laurcad123 @927roses-and-stuff @toodaloo-kangaroo @queenz-z @imarivers8 @jeminiikrystal @adrestar @twsssmlmaa @literaryhiraeth @trippingovermyfeet @ev-cupcake @its-maemain

[alttlbitlonger]

I recently have been on a romance book binge for the last few weeks, and I’ve read all kinds of romance books, you name it. Morally Grey characters, big red flags characters, big green flag characters, sweet romances, dirty romances, frankly very traumatising romances, and my personal pet peeve is the stalker that was actually a good guy but to me it’s still a stalker romance. Being in this mindset for the last few weeks, it has meet me reflect very closely upon my understanding of my relationship with relationships, pun intended. It’s made me really look into the reason why I have been single for the past six going on seven years and not really feeling too badly about it. Yes of course, I still long for a partner. of course I long for the companionship, the intimacy that you can only get with being with someone that is truly meant to be your one and only. But, it doesn’t drive me enough to want to make finding someone my soul mission in life. Frankly, I have used dating apps very minimally in the last one year (for context, I moved out of my home country into a new one, so using dating apps to either meet people/make friends was pretty much the only way to get around things) and after a few interactions with sun par humans, I realise that I just didn’t care enough to continue going through it all and playing the field to try and find someone. It’s a little contradictory right? I have all these feelings about wanting to find a partner, but I just don’t care enough to put in that extra work that people my age need to do when they want to find a partner in 2023. And I do think back as to why, why I have, as some people put it ‘such a high bar’ and not give every Tom Dick and Harry a chance.

Hard to see, but it really stems from seeing how relationships were growing. My parents were never the most open people. I remember very distinctly that me having a guy friend was a big no-no. I remember my mum consistently questioning me, being suspicious about the guy friends that I had in my life, which at the point of me being 9-12 years old it was the only friend circle I had. I wasn’t lucky enough to be surrounded by a group of girlfriends that were supportive of even understood me at that age so the boys were my gang. I remember feeling so judged and insecure about having these guy friends as mum would say they only wanna be friends with me “for the wrong reasons” that I believe I started having a sort of dysfunctional relationship with guys and being just my friends. It’s either I’ll completely shut them down and friendzone them or I’d believe they only wanna talk to me to get into my pants, no in between. This was hard on me as it then made being friends with these guys I grew up with practically impossible. I couldn’t go over to the house and play video games, I wasn’t allowed to go and hang out with them at the park and in the rare few times that I was allowed to hang out with them it was because it was their birthday. The limited interactions made me so awkward that I literally spaz out and make the friendship unbearable.

Then, as I entered high school at 13 up until I was 17, my parents view on having guys in my life became even more restrictive. And I get it. Your daughter is maturing. You don’t want no guys to take advantage of her and I totally support that. But when your daughter who does not know what love is supposed to be and is trying to figure out why when she talks to someone, she gets butterflies in her tummy, or she starts thinking about someone and can’t stop thinking about them after, she needed someone to walk her through these feelings and not just be told “ I don’t want you catching feelings for any guys and I don’t want to hang out with any guys”. Some people may ask, isn’t this why you have friends? Isn’t moments like this why having friends is so important? And yes I agree. But on the flipside, given my parents weren’t so open, I wasn’t allowed to be in situations to make meaningful relationships with these friends that allow me to be comfortable enough to share my feelings. The extent of me being allowed to go to social settings where I could actually make inroads in becoming friends with my schoolmates were far and few in between. So, I spent my high school years, not understanding how to deal with these emotions, because I didn’t have someone I could talk to about it and I ended up then “getting together“ with someone who I shouldn’t have because of how immature we both were. That relationship lasted three months, if you could actually call it that, and it ended with me being with someone that I was told by romance novels were meant to be your number one person and that they would always put your first. So great way to pave my horrible insecurities with relationships and that I’d rather be alone than be someone’s second choice.

To add to this, growing up, I saw what I know now is a toxic relationship between my own parents. That just because you love someone, doesn’t mean they are the right person for you. Because too much love, or too much misplaced love, ends up with barbed wired words and hurt feelings. What’s worse is that they choose not to see it as a problem that can be fixed with time and effort. Instead just living with this constant toxic cycle day in day out that impacted me and my siblings as young impressionable kids - which is selfish of them as we’re now 30 years down the line, they’re still fighting and using us kids as therapy. It made me realise as I got older, that I’d rather be alone for the rest of my life, then to be in a relationship that makes me as hurtful and depressed and as lost as they both are.

It also made me realise that I do not want to have kids of my own, that I do not want to do what my parents did to me which was to dump your unresolved trauma onto a kid and keeping the generational cycle of trauma and abuse going.

Four years ago, I finally had that realisation that I cannot depend on people around me to help fix me if I don’t fix myself on my own. It’s taken a lot of hard looks in the mirror, a lot of screaming crying throwing up because it is hard to accept when trauma has altered that poor inner child so badly that you grieve for the lost childhood and safety they should’ve had. Maybe I’ll always be cynical, or maybe I’ll grow up and find my way. It’s a journey I’m still seeing through and hopefully it will be one with a good ending.

[decodedlvr]

Hi! I just felt my autistic sense of justice and played tone police in your comments. Sorry about that, but their behavior as a fellow fanfiction writer was not okay. We have an etiquette, and there are some manners you should have when being part of a fandom.

About your fic: I liked it. It's definitely a different take on Steve since the fandom headcanons him mostly hung like a horse, and you wrote his insecurity and emotion well.

Billy and Tommy are dicks—nothing new. It is definitely behavior I can see them have without it being too out of character.

It's a little short and not finalized, which is expected since it's a series, and this is part one, after all. The wording was very good. The emotions came across. We were thrown into the story and got carried along.

Only thing I’d do is use the “keep reading” feature // :readmore: since it's easier for people coming across your story and/or reblogging it! BUT I am aware that that feature is currently a little buggy, so no biggy!

I also don't like people using ‘’ instead of “” but it is a personal peeve of mine and a question of personal taste and stylistic choice, therefore a me problem, not one for you to worry about.

Please don't let yourself get discouraged by this one person lacking manners, and continue writing. You clearly have a vision of where to take this series.

— Love, Lynn

PS: You do NOT have to respond to this. I just wanted to give you some feedback and apologize for spamming in the comments of your fic.

Hi. I appreciate this, you told me your likes and some constructive criticism, even though you weren’t really criticizing me lol. I thought my idea for the storyline for ole stereotypical king Steve, was pretty good imo🤷🏽‍♀️

I make it very apparent that I’m not a writer( so yes I will have flaws) and yes; I do write short thoughts or mini ideas I have and people seem to like it.

I’m sure some people don’t like reading about how Chrissy would be an evil bitch in fics, because she so sweet in the show right? I don’t make characters to be assholes on purpose. I just do what I do, and yes I like Billy and yes I made Billy a dick.. because he is one? I could have made him like so very very evil but I made it pretty basic.

Also, I never really liked (‘ ‘) either but everytime I made people talk (“””) just felt like so many dots to me. I still haven’t figured out what I like better; but I do get why the ‘ ‘ looks odd. The “keep reading” thing is back and forth for me, idk how to make it always say that :/

My blog is small, any like i get makes me wanna make more but I’m just too lazy to go full on haha. And your comments were spot on btw.

Thank you ❣️ and I love your fics btw too

[esshee]

𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐙𝐀𝐊𝐈 𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒 CHAPTER 02. OF FREAK ACCIDENTS AND UNRELIABLE TEAMMATES

「 In which the Inarizaki Boys' Volleyball Team sometimes test your patience and make you proud of them. 」

✩ pairing. inarizaki & f!manager!reader (platonic)

✩ genre. slice of life, fluff, humour, friendship

✩ warnings. none

✩ wc. 3.2k

← previous ⋮ masterlist ⋮ next →

“So what made y’all think it was a good idea ta turn the gym into a water park!?”

It was quite the sight, seeing seven tall high school boys cower away from one angry middle-aged man. They seemed conscious of the dozens of curious eyes watching them as varying shades of shame and embarrassment etched onto each of their faces while the head coach ripped them a new one.

Coach Kurosu had somehow found out about the water fight. Though he was generally mild-tempered and understanding, even he evidently had a limit when dealing with boisterous and rowdy teenage boys.

You couldn’t blame him: that was how you felt as well.

Even now, you still couldn’t wrap your head around what had possessed the team to think it was a good idea to engage in such a juvenile and hazardous game. What if someone had slipped and fallen?

“You lot! Stay back for extra practice!” Coach ground out in a tone of finality. “One hundred serves! Fifty jump serves! And fifty jump floaters!”

The starting lineup all slumped at the coach’s words, but you knew that they had resigned themselves to complying with their punishment when they replied with a disgruntled chorus of “Yes, sir.”

“Dismissed!” Coach Kurosu huffed out after he turned to the rest of the team. “Leave the nets and balls as they are. Yer troublemakin’ teammates will be cleanin’ up after they finish their drills.”

“Yes, sir!”

You shook your head, feeling a slight twinge of pity for your boys. Coach Kurosu, when peeved, could be relentless.

How did the coach find out? you wondered as the seven troublemakers stood around at a loss for what to do after they were publicly humiliated in front of their peers.

You were fairly confident you had kept mum about the incident. The boys, too, had avoided any mention of it like it was the plague, presumably not wanting to: (a) rile you up, and (b) receive punishment from the coach.

Though you certainly weren’t at fault for what transpired, you still felt a tiny bit responsible for their actions. After all, you had cleaned up after their mess and chose not to report it to the coach as you probably should have. Does that count as colludin’ with the team?

You tapped the side of your clipboard as you decided to keep an eye on them for their extra practice—they tended to slack off without any supervision and wind up in even more trouble. Besides, it would clear you of your ever-so-slight guilty conscience.

Your eyes scanned the gym for the coach, hoping to inform him of your decision before he left, and you noticed he was heading for the storage room.

“Coach!” you called out in a rush as you ran over with the clipboard tucked securely against your chest.

“Oh, [Surname],” he stopped, “do you need anything?”

“Ah, um, if you don’t mind me askin’, how did you…know?” you queried cautiously. Though you wanted to avoid provoking the already peeved coach with your curiosity, your desire for answers outweighed all else.

Thankfully, he merely chuckled before shaking his head with a wry grin, “They weren’t quiet enough when I went ta check in on ya. I could hear them a mile away.”

Your jaw dropped, soaking in the coach’s words. It must've been ‘cause I was taking too long, you realized, connecting the dots of how he'd discovered the truth. So they gave themselves away. They blew their own cover. And here I was, worried that I’d given ‘em away myself.

“Of course,” you deadpanned, barely restraining yourself from planting your forehead against the clipboard. “Of course, they would…”

You couldn't believe that many schools thought the Inarizaki team were 'cool' and 'badass' when in reality, they were a bunch of bumbling fools.

“Yer too soft on them, [Surname], but they’re lucky to have you. If it were me, I wouldn’t’ve let ‘em rest!” Coach barked out a laugh.

Your cheeks heated up at the unexpected praise, “N-No, that’s not…”

“Anyway, I know that’s not the real reason ya stopped me.”

Your fingers clutched the clipboard a tad bit tighter as you shifted on your toes uneasily, “That's…”

“You wanna stay back with them, don'tcha? Shinsuke knew ya would, so he offered to stay back before you came up to me.”

The coach walked into the storage room and pulled out a couple of sheets of paper from the filing cabinet he had the school install a few weeks ago. “Tarou and I’ve got a meeting to attend, so I’ll hafta leave those troublemakers to you.”

You took the pieces of paper he handed over, clipping them to the board before you hugged the clipboard and dipped into a bow. “Thank you, Coach!”

He gave you a final smile, then left the gym with Coach Oomi following closely behind.

Humming quietly to yourself, you glanced down at the sheets and pondered over the most efficient way of jotting down your notes. It would be nigh impossible for you to keep track of everyone unless they wanted to stay back for longer than necessary.

If we put them into serve-receive pairs, the receiver could keep count and report ‘em to me, you considered.

Just as you flipped the page over, satisfied with your plan, you felt a tap on your shoulder. You let out an embarrassingly high-pitched shriek as you tightly and jerkily gripped the sheet, nearly tearing it off the clipboard.

“Sorry, did I scare ya?”

You turned to see Kita staring in concern. Then, you shook your head as you gathered your thoughts and collected yourself, “Sorry. I was just…lost in thought.”

“Be careful,” he frowned. “It’s not safe to daydream in the gym, especially with the risk of getting hurt.”

“Yes, I’ll be more careful,” you replied sheepishly, averting your eyes from the captain.

“Well, I saw ya speaking with the coach,” Kita began. “I assume you know that I’m staying back?”

You recalled the coach’s response with a nod.

“Riseki and Kosaku also offered to stay back and practice their serves.”

“Alright,” you said. “Will you be practicing yer serves too, Kita-san? Or will ya be keeping watch with me?”

“I could use some more practice with jump floaters,” Kita answered as you both made your way to the others. “Are ya takin' notes?”

“As usual,” you confirmed. “Since we have ten players, how about splitting ‘em into two groups? One serving and the other receiving. That way, everyone can practice in serve-receive pairs, and I’ll be able ta observe.”

“We’ll do that, then.”

“Watch out!”

Without batting an eye, you took a step to your right, successfully dodging the powerful serve from Ginjima. A strand of your hair brushed against your left cheek as the ball loudly bounced off the wall and fell to the floor. Once it rolled to a stop by your feet, you bent down and grabbed a hold of it.

“Sorry, [Surname],” Oomimi called out as he jogged towards you with an apologetic smile. “Ginjima’s serves are gettin’ a lot better.”

"No problem," you threw the ball back at him, "I'm glad he's improving."

Oomimi grinned in agreement before he rejoined the court.

As you supervised the team practice, you noted that the majority of them could use a little more practice receiving. It’s an endless cycle, you mused as you spun on your heel to examine the second court. When they get better at serving, they have to practice their receives. When they get better at receiving, they have to practice their serves.

You walked around the two courts that the players occupied, making sure to diligently take as many notes as you could on your own.

Court A occupied the group practicing their jump floaters: Atsumu was close to mastering the jump floater and more or less demanded that he practiced it first with their starting libero, Akagi; beside the setter, Kita carefully took note of each serve he hit while making sure to keep an attentive eye on Riseki’s receives; Suna, on the other hand, wasted no time, clearly wanting to get the drill over with and hit serve after serve at Aran, who managed to cleanly receive most of the balls.

The players on court B were practicing their jump serves: Ginjima, who had nearly pelted you in the head, looked incredibly focused as he aimed yet another powerful serve at Oomimi, though the latter managed to perfectly receive it this time; Kosaku, too, threw his all into each ball he hit, making Osamu use his full body to receive as many serves as he could.

To no one’s surprise, Suna and Aran finished first amongst all the pairs with the pace the former had set. As you’d instructed after the coaches had left, they waited on the sidelines for everyone else to finish before switching and having Suna receive while Aran served.

You were reading through your notes on Suna’s twenty-five jump floaters when you caught Aran approaching within your peripherals.

“The spin isn’t quite there yet,” the third year explained. “You can still semi-accurately predict when it'll drop.”

“Noted,” you replied as you added that into the notes.

Aran then proceeded to tell you the number of serves he had successfully received, fumbled with, and missed entirely. You silently observed that most of Suna’s serves had been somewhat received by Aran.

“Jump floaters are hard,” Suna grumbled as he slowly neared you, seemingly not pleased with the numbers Aran had relayed to you.

“Not sayin’ they aren’t,” Aran shrugged, “but ya could afford to take more time on your run-up and stuff.”

Your fellow second year huffed but still peered over your shoulder. He stuck out his hand, wordlessly requesting to read through your notes. You handed him your clipboard and pointed to where his notes were on the page.

“Atsumu!”

“Oops! Ball!” You heard Atsumu shout, and you gazed over to see what the commotion was about.

Akagi had seemingly fumbled his receive, resulting in the ball hurling towards yours and Suna’s direction. Without a second thought, you snatched the clipboard from Suna’s grasp and raised it over his head like it was a shield.

He jerked away from you, and you saw him flinch when the ball ricocheted off your clipboard with a resounding thwack! which then flew towards the court it came from. It all happened so quickly that you could only watch in abject horror as the ball promptly pelted an unsuspecting Riseki in the face; the sheer force of the ball knocked the poor boy to his rear.

Everything and everyone stood still as you took the time to properly digest and process what had just happened.

The muffled groan from Riseki snapped you out of your trance as you rushed over to the injured first year.

“Oi, Riseki, you okay?” Akagi inquired, having been one step faster at getting to the youngest member in the gym.

“Ah?” Riseki managed, covering his nose with both hands.

“Someone, bring Riseki some tissues,” you addressed the team. Knowing them, had it not been for your reminder, they would’ve remained onlookers, not knowing what to do in the face of a crisis.

“A towel works if you can't find them,” Kita added.

“S-senpai? I…don’t feel so good,” Riseki groaned as his head was tilted back under Akagi's insistence that it would stop the bleeding.

“Riseki, don’t listen to Akagi-san. Keep your head upright for now. Ya keep your head back, and you’ll only ingest yer blood.”

The first year paled at your words and immediately lifted his head back into an upright position.

“Wow, when’s the last time I saw this much blood?” Suna muttered, studying Riseki for a short moment before looking away with a grimace.

“Don’t make it sound like he’s dying!” Aran exclaimed.

“You shoulda been careful, Akagi-san! Now look whatcha did!” Atsumu piped up unhelpfully.

“Let’s not go around blaming others,” Kita cut in before an offended Akagi could retort back. “I don’t believe any of us could’ve been prepared for what happened.” As he finished his statement, you could practically feel Kita’s eyes bore a hole in the side of your skull. His message was obviously pointed in part at you.

You couldn’t deny the truth in Kita’s words. You knew that had it been any other member in your shoes, you wouldn’t blame them at all. It had genuinely been a freak accident.

Still, you couldn’t help but mentally reprimand yourself. Even though you had blocked the ball from hitting Suna, you should have made sure to properly kill the ball’s momentum. Had you done so, then the ball wouldn’t have rebounded off your clipboard and hit Riseki.

But you hadn’t expected such a strong and fast ball to come flying your way. They had been practicing jump floaters on the court closest to you, so you had mistakenly let your guard down. And your carelessness could have seriously injured Riseki.

You bit down on your lip and lowered your head.

“Oi.”

You felt a hand muss up your hair, and you scowled up at the target of your ire.

“‘Samu,” you warned with an unspoken threat underlying your voice.

“What.”

Osamu, the little shit, smirked down at you, knowing full well how much you hated it when people messed up your hair. Your scowl only seemed to incentivize him to mess it up even more.

And people think he’s the ‘nice’ twin, you thought scathingly as you glowered up at your childhood friend.

“Y’know, he kinda went flyin’ like whoosh and then bam,” Kosaku supplied as he scratched his nose without any real concern in his voice.

“I still can’t believe that happened,” Ginjima let out a disbelieving chuckle.

Before anyone else could chime in and tease the poor first year, the door slammed open, and everyone hushed at the sight of Oomimi jogging over with an ice pack and a bunch of tissues in his hands.

“Sorry, I couldn’t find any in the storage. I grabbed these from the infirmary, though!”

Why did you even bring an ice pack? If you were goin’ to the infirmary, ya could have brought the injured along. You sighed, shaking your head before reaching for the ice pack and tissues nonetheless. “That’ll do for now. I’ll take Riseki to the infirmary so the nurse can look at him. ‘Samu, ‘Tsumu, help me bring Riseki to the infirmary.”

“On it, [Nickname]!”

“If ya two don’t return after you drop him off, then I’ll triple your drills,” Kita threatened the twins. You stifled a laugh when they shook their heads and crossed their arms in front of their chests as though they were warding off his very real threat.

Idiots: the lot of them.

The nurse had taped a sign to the door that stated she’d be back in an hour. Luckily, she had the foresight to leave the door unlocked.

“I’m gonna head back first!” Atsumu announced, gleefully letting go of Riseki after he had only taken one step into the infirmary. He shot you a peace sign and rushed out with his fingers still up in the air.

Osamu, who had to bear the entire weight of the first year, glowered, and under your careful watch, gently brought Riseki over to a free bed before chasing after his twin.

“Senpai, I don’t think I can hold the ice pack much longer. My fingers are numb.”

True to his words, Riseki’s fingers were a bright red.

“Sorry, Riseki. I’ll take that from you, so focus on warming yer hands,” you took the ice pack from him. “Oomimi-san really shoulda covered it with a towel or something.”

Your junior gave you an awkward wince in response.

“Oh, throw away the bloody tissues. It looks like your nose has stopped bleedin’.”

“Thank you, senpai.”

You suppressed a chuckle from escaping your lips, realizing that you might actually deserve the thanks you received. After all, the team hadn’t done anything particularly helpful. If anything, they gave you more work to do as per usual.

You heaved a sigh at the thought of the troublesome lot, “Riseki, I’m so sorry for yer unreliable teammates.”

“H-huh!? N-no! It’s okay! Really!”

“They’re all chumps and dunces…well, except for Kita-san. Anyway, no need to hold back, Riseki-kun. My lips are sealed.”

Riseki seemed to hesitate as he played with his fingers and averted his eyes from you. He took a quick glimpse at the bin where he’d thrown out the tissues. You followed his gaze and raised a brow. Is it about the incident?

“Well, what is it?” You narrowed your eyes at the first year. “Spit it out, Riseki.”

“Ah, um…A-Atsumu-san…” he trailed off, looking around the infirmary anxiously.

You crossed your arms across your chest.

Riseki accidentally met your hard gaze and immediately spilled the beans with a wince, “Atsumusandidajumpserveinsteadofajumpfloater.”

It took you a minute to decipher what Riseki had said, but when you finally comprehended his words, you balled your hands into a tight fist, knuckles protruding prominently as you tried to physically hold yourself back from chasing after the perpetrator.

“Are ya tellin’ me that this all happened ‘cause shitty ‘Tsumu didn't listen to me?”

The first year appeared downright terrified, but you couldn’t bring yourself to feel bad for him.

In the decade you somehow got roped into being their best friend, Atsumu had frequently given you endless amounts of grief for not listening to your instructions. While you had grown used to his shenanigans, your tolerance for his recklessness, especially when it could harm someone, had grown slimmer and slimmer over the years.

No one was expectin’ a powerful stray ball from court A. Jump floaters aren’t powerful enough to seriously injure anyone. And Akagi-san definitely wasn’t expecting a jump serve, you reasoned, growing progressively angrier as you started to get the full picture of what’d happened. He can usually dig Atsumu’s serves when he knows which one’s comin’.

You let out a long shaky breath and closed your eyes.

You could hear Riseki gulp in the silence.

“I see,” you opened your eyes after a long moment and gave the first year a placating smile. “Thank you for telling me, Riseki. I’m gonna hafta talk to my friend.”

Extra: A Familiar Scene

“...I’m sorry.”

The team bemusedly watched Atsumu bow with his head and knees on the gym floor as their manager stood with her arms crossed over her chest and a frosty expression on her face. Suna had shamelessly pulled out his phone to film the scene in front of them.

“Is that all?” She asked archly.

“I’m sorry for not listenin’ to ya.”

“And?”

“I promise to listen next time. It won’t happen again.”

There was a tense moment of silence as Atsumu remained with his forehead firmly pressed against the floor.

Osamu quietly counted down in a volume that the two could not hear, “Three…two…one.”

“You fuckin’ liar!” Their manager burst out and lunged at the frightened blonde.

Aran immediately shot forward and looped his arms around the girl’s shoulders. “Calm down, [Name]!”

“Lemme at him! Let. Go. Of. Me.”

“Yer gonna kill him!”

“That’s the fuckin’ point!”

“Ack! Ginjima, help me!”

In the midst of all the chaos, only Osamu managed to catch the unrestrained grin threatening to split his twin’s lips.

© 𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐞. all rights reserved. do not plagiarize, share, repost, or translate my works.

[soupandsimple]

In Thirty Minutes (with Remus Lupin)

[ Remus casually feeding your newborn baby for the first time ]

* fluff!! very soft 💘

* my first ever Remus Lupin fic! I figured I’d give it a go and see if it’s something you’d all want more of :)

This was requested: see the ask here

………………..

Finally being able to bring your baby girl home from the hospital, after a two day birthing stay, felt surreal. Of course the nursery and everything needed for the baby was ready at home prior to the delivery, but this life adjustment would still be all new to you and your husband Remus.

Upon arriving at the small cottage you called home, you and Remus spent about an hour just cozily sitting on the couch admiring your baby girl and marveling at the fact that this new little soul would be living with you now (well, out of the womb now that is).

And then, after hearing you quietly yawn for about the fifth time in a row, Remus suggested you go take a nap.

“I bet you’re tired love, why don’t you go get a little rest” he said, reaching over to take the baby who was currently resting in your arms.

“Rest sounds great, but are you sure? Don’t want to leave you alone with this already” you teased as you ever so softly stroked your daughter’s tiny cheek as she cozily cuddled into the feel of Remus’s arms now.

“I’m absolutely sure. Go, I got her” he softly said, standing up with her cradled in one arm and extending the other to offer you a hand in getting up from the couch.

“Okay, but it’s almost feeding time so come wake me up in about thirty minutes” you requested, standing on your tiptoes to place a kiss on his cheek and another on baby girl’s head.

“Thirty minutes, got it.”

You smiled, squeezed his hand in the way he knew meant I love you, then made your way to the bedroom to the comfort of the bed you had been missing these past days.

——————————————————————————

About forty minutes later, you woke up from your nap and instantly panicked upon realizing you were (even just a little) late for baby’s feeding! As a first time mother, it was only normal you wanted everything to be precise to a tee.

Peeved that Remus didn’t wake you, you slowly waddled out the room (as unfortunately you still weren’t in condition for speedy steps) to find Remus and get on to him for not keeping track of time.

But when you finally made it to the living area, you stopped in awe upon seeing Remus already bottle feeding your newborn in the small, dimly lit kitchen space.

“You’re such’a perfect little doll, aren’t you?” he cooed at the little bundled up baby who was slowly sucking away at the bottle with what you assumed was milk you had pumped earlier at the hospital.

“Remmy….” you spoke, knuckling at your sleepy eyes and exhaling with relief now that you knew your daughter was still on perfect scheduling, “why didn’t you wake me to nurse her?”

Remus looked up and smiled at your slight, post nap grumpiness, “Love, a thirty minute nap wasn’t going to do you any good and neither is a forty minute one for that matter” he scolded at you with a smirk.

At that moment, baby girl unlatched from the bottle and whimpered a bit. “You sense mummy’s here now hm?” Remus hummed as he carefully moved the bottle back to her lips. You smiled at his gentleness and laid your head at his bicep once you got to where he stood with her.

“How did you know how to warm up my milk? I thought we were both new at this…do you have a secret baby I don’t know about Remus Lupin?” you added playfully to your genuine questioning, as you wiggled one of your baby’s little fisted hands.

“That’s what dozing off while I read those books for first time parents aloud gets you” he replied, matter of factually.

“S’not my fault your voice is so soothing when you read to me” you sleepily mumbled into his cardigan while peaking over to admire your daughter.

“No, I know it’s not your fault love” Remus chuckled, kissing the top of your head. “But don’t worry, we can go over the books again once you get some more rest, yeah?” <3

TagList: @regulusblackswhorecrux

[sublimecatgalaxy]

Brown Eyed Girl- Part One

Pairing: Elliot (Euphoria) x Reader

Summary: The reader and Elliot have been dating since middle school. Best friends through baby pictures, pre-school, grade school, everything. But when middle school sweethearts are turned into parents in a seemingly quick turn of fate, will their lifelong friendship and relationship last?

Word Count: 2.1k (shorter cuz it's like a opener)

Warnings: Mentions of sex, pregnancy and abortion, angst.

A/n: Hello all, I've finally got a fic going on! This will be like ten parts and I'm really hoping you guys like this and I can't wait to see all of your lovey messages and comments❤️

I never wanted to be a trope.

I’ve been reading fanfiction since puberty, hyperfixating on my newest obsession, my newest comfort character, my newest obsession. Every other week I’d have someone new to focus on, someone who caught my attention, tugged at my heart strings, someone who made me feel beyond belief. There’s something comforting about investing in something like that, waiting for the newest part, interacting with people with similar interests, implanting yourself in these complicated, well-written (sometimes) stories and ideas. It was the greatest escape I had ever found and experienced and still is comforting to me today. To be able to take a break from my parents fighting, from their split, my dad’s complete vanishing act from mine and my sisters life, my mom's alcoholism; the reading gave me an escape from all of it, and a healthy one at that, especially compared to my eldest sister’s denial.

I suppose that’s why my sister Lexi and I get along.

She’s a bookworm too, a total art freak. We shared a similar taste in music, movies, shows, actors and actresses, along with the same dislikes and pet peeves in art. And boy, could we go on for hours about all of it. None of our other friends growing up shared our similar liking to books and poems, even down to our movie choices; they thought we were odd because of our ‘mature’ taste, finding it weird that we weren't watching the childish shows and reading the picture books that our friends were enjoying.

Not only that but we were constantly reading and writing years above our grade and age group. The school system considered having us skip grades at a few points throughout our pre-highschool years but they didn’t want us to miss out on the social aspect that elementary school and middle school offered to us. But we weren’t interested in the social aspect of school, knowing that we were enough for each other and not caring for all the drama that kids our age were so obsessed with.

She and I were always sharing and swapping stories and ideas based on the books we were reading. We would read published books, we’d read on social media, watch fan-edits, scroll through Tumblr and Reddit into the deep, dark hours of the night. I dabbled in writing a bit but not like her, no, not like Lexi. She had a knack for writing, for creating these deep stories like the ones that we loved reading when we were kids when our dad would read us to sleep every night.

Lexi and I were always best friends, but I guess that came with the title of twins, right?

We were genetically identical, maybe not so much in looks though. We differed in our smiles, our eyes were the slightest bit different in color and shape but somehow our mannerisms were completely the same and have been as we grew up. Maybe it was because we spent all the time with each other that was humanly possible, picking up on each other’s quirks throughout our years. It was easy to get to know her throughout my life because she was practically me, the way her eyebrows would tick up, what certain smiles told me about how she felt, how her blinks changed when she was excited. We knew everything about each other and we were closer than any siblings could ever possibly be.

Our other sister on the other hand was a bit different than us.

She’s our eldest sister, the one who’s supposed to pave the way, to be the guiding hand that leads us through life and steers us out of trouble. An older sister is supposed to be someone you can go to when you’ve gotten yourself into trouble or someone to rant to when you need advice.

But Cassie was not that. She still is not that.

Cassie is reckless, the one who needs most of the advice compared to being the one to give it, she’s erratic and emotional. She’s always been the type to feel with her whole heart which is probably her biggest strength but in the past has also proven to be her biggest weakness. Between her relationship choices, the people she chooses to get involved with, her decisions to try to keep in touch with our father after he left to fall into a little white baggie, and her constant disapproval of how everyone else around her lives their lives; she’s reckless, controlling and she craves everything that life has to offer, in every toxic way.

She was no help when our father left, clinging onto the fact that he was going to return, begging a god she didn’t believe in to send him home, waiting at the end of our driveway every other weekend. She wanted him to become a new person, to suddenly get sober, become better, and to come home to us and our mother.

Our mother, who was falling apart every day in the marriage let alone out of it.

It was in her best interest to be without our father, who spurred her alcoholism on, it was the best opportunity for her to grow without him holding her back. That was something that Cassie could never see or accept. Lexi and I knew this, we knew our parents weren’t the best people, that they both had their faults, but together they were suffocating their kids, especially their youngest.

Over the years, my mom had improved, her drinking slowly dissipating and slowing down. It just clicked one day, maybe after Cassie got pregnant, that her children needed her and she needed them more than the empty bottles of wine that she was collecting by her side instead of her family. Once Cassie needed her, she was awake and ready, and it definitely hurt Lexi and I that after all those years of neglect and how quick to anger she was, she was ready to be a mother again the minute that Cassie got herself into a bad situation. And to think of all the times that Lexi and I could’ve used a mom, it’s upsetting.

But either way, we got our mom back.

Lexi and I got our way through high school, all the way to senior year, Cassie graduating and getting a move on with an interior design degree. Lexi and I were most excited to be done with highschool, to be done with the people and the teachers who constantly mixed us up. We were most excited to move on with our lives and solidify our individuality with different college degrees. Lexi was obviously going for journalism and myself, still undecided. I was hoping that things would fall into place and help me make my decision and looking at how my day is going today, it’s starting to make a bit of sense.

I know that I said that I didn’t want to be a trope and I meant it. I didn’t want to be what I read, I didn’t want to be predictable or ‘old’. I wanted to be something new, something important and relevant in the world and I definitely didn’t want to be like Cassie. I knew that. Cassie and I had nothing in common, she hated school, she only cared about things that were measured at face value, she was more about shock factor than the quality of her actions. She’s reckless. I never thought that anything would bring us together or give me perspective of how and why she does what she does, but this?

This gave me perspective that I didn’t want.

It’s important to know that I wasn’t the type of person to ‘trap’ guys. Cassie did that, Cass is a trapper of men, figuring out anything and everything to keep the most toxic of men at her side like some trophy, like an accomplishment. I just wanted a wholesome relationship, something easy and full of life, something new and life changing. I didn’t want to just be in a relationship to be in a relationship, I didn’t want to date to just date who ever the fuck I wanted, to fuck whoever I wanted. I wanted to be in a relationship full of love and life, I wanted to feel everything that love had to offer and I wanted it with the one person that I’ve known as long as I’ve known myself.

Elliot has been my best friend since birth. Our mothers grew up together, pushing us together the minute that I was born. We were literally bred to be together, like some arranged marriage type thing. Our moms would dress us up together, take photos daily together, we played together, went to school together; everything. Every memory I had of my life, Elliot was there along with Lexi. They were my people, my whole heart and soul.

I knew that I felt more for Elliot when he first started dating around in ninth grade, right around the same time that my dad left and around the same time that his mom died and he moved in with his cousin. I already had these issues, clinging onto the men around me, Elliot, my male family members, male teachers who told me they were proud of my good grades. It hurt when he started to venture out into the world, kissing and hugging, holding, other girls that weren’t me. It pissed me off, my barely teenage heart could barely handle it so we fell off for a bit. That was until I told him how I felt.

I remember it like it was yesterday, the end of sophomore year and Elliot had just broken up with his latest fling. He told me it was because she just ‘wasn’t for him’ but he later told me down the line that it was me that was for him and he just wanted to be done with all the other girls. It came at a convenient time because he had just realized his feelings for me and I had been working up the courage to actually tell him that I thought that I was in love with him. We ended up blurting it out at the same time, giggling for a few and then agreeing that we would take it slow, not wanting to ruin the almost sixteen years of friendship that we had going for us.

It’s safe to say that we didn’t ruin anything.

Our relationship, because of our friendship, was so simple. No jealousy, no fighting or agitation. Just simple dates, heated kisses in the backseat of his car when I was supposed to be home. He gave me this sense of newness while also giving me the same familiarity that he had given me for years. He was my safe place, my person, even as our relationship grew deeper and deeper, even more intimate by the day. I always felt safe and never doubted his loyalty and love for me.

But now, looking down at the two lines on the test that seem to be staring back at me, it’s the first time that I’ve ever questioned my loyalty to him. How could I do this to him? I know that this isn’t my fault, that it takes two, but I almost feel guilty as I set the test down onto the cool tile counter, my eyes tearing up as I think of what to do. I didn’t want to be like Cassie, not because of her choice, because her choice was valid and it was hers, but I didn’t want my decision to be dictated by a man. She was so quick to let her boyfriend at the time have full say over what was going to happen just because she wanted to be with him. And she didn’t even end up with him in the end, left with this ghost of a decision that she ponders every day if she did the right thing.

I’m going with my gut and my gut is saying that I’m going through with this, that even if Elliot turns his nose up to it, not wanting the pressure or responsibility yet in his life, I would understand.

I would have to understand. He’s my best friend, always has been, even if we have different opinions over this situation. So if Elliot is loyal and wants to be with me like he’s said so many times, this was his test. This was the ultimate test of both of our loyalties towards each other, a test of our love and strength, to see if it survives a pregnancy and a child, even at our young age.

So screw college, screw making a decision, this is my decision.

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[iovchlde]

hi!! may i request some reverse comfort headcanons for diluc, kaeya, childe, and xiao? maybe about relationship insecurity or something of that sort??

relationship flaws and insecurities.

no one is perfect— so what exactly are their flaws in a relationship? and what do they feel most conscious of in a relationship?

featuring diluc, kaeya, childe, xiao

diluc

he feels that he might scare you off with his overprotectiveness. he’s already lost someone before, and he doesn’t think he can handle losing you either.

it’s not that he wants to control your life— in fact, he wants you to live it to its full extent. but there’s always that small worry, an annoying voice, in the back of his head that reminds him that the wilderness of teyvat is dangerous.

subconsciously, he may find himself interrogating you if you plan on leaving the house early in the morning, or late at night. there’ll be times where small quarrels stem from this, and inevitably it can get heated sometimes.

if you walk out on him for more hours than what feels comfortable, to cool off, he might start to think if you’ve left him for good.

diluc’s sitting at the edge of the bed, and there’s a consistent tapping on the floor as he anxiously drums his foot against it. it’s way past his assigned time to sleep, knowing he has to be up early to run his business. he doesn’t have half the mind to check what time it is, at least, not right now. all he can think about is that you’ve been gone for way too long.

he expects this from the two of you, especially after a heated argument. you two take the time away from one another to cool off and collect your thoughts, but this? this is just outrageous. if he were to give an estimate for how long you’d been gone— it would be two hours longer than you’d typically be gone for. and this just feeds into his worries from earlier, about your well-being.

the whole fight was about you and your safety after all. you would tell him that you’re fully capable of looking out for yourself; he’d say that he has enemies who may come after you; it goes back-and-forth. sensing that the argument was getting nowhere, you took it upon yourself to see yourself out first. “let’s just,” you pinch the bridge of your nose. “let’s just take time to cool off for a bit, shall we?”

“it’s been longer than a bit,” he mutters to himself.

he’s snapped out his thoughts as he hears the bedroom doors open slowly. you peek your head in, just to make eye contact with diluc. you two freeze, simply caught off-guard in the moment. he notes how your hair is a mess— it sticks out in certain areas, and obviously has not been brushed down— and you look a bit rugged. “hey,” you mutter sheepishly.

he wonders if he should ask you where you’ve been, but he holds his tongue. “are you okay?” diluc asks instead, and there’s a certain tenderness in his voice as he addresses you. “you look a bit... rough.”

you snort, throwing a feign hand of offense over your chest, at his words. “gee, thanks. nice to know i’m looking very appealing right now.” you joke. he stares at you, but you can see the faint smile on his lips at the way you’re joking around already. it’s good to know that you two are still okay. “but to answer your question, yes. i simply tripped over a pebble— it was so dark out and my foot got caught. who would’ve known that a pebble would be the one to take me down.”

he laughs at this, and you feel the tension from the argument completely lift.

kaeya

he’ll often wonder if you’re slowly becoming untrusting of him. he’s generally reserved, and quite mysterious— and it could easily be read in the wrong way.

kaeya knows that a relationship is all about communication and trust, well, for it to be healthy at least. and for the most part, he’s pretty open with you.

but there’s still certain aspects of his life that keeps in the dark from you. from his unknown past, to the business he does out of the knight of favonius— he likes that you look up to him as a respectable knight.

sometimes, you’ll ask him why he has duties to attend to at the dead of night, to which he reassuringly tells you that he’s simply off to bother diluc at the tavern. but he knows you’re catching on— diluc hasn’t seen him in the tavern for quite a bit.

“i know you haven’t been at the tavern.” you finally speak up, and you keep your eyes trained on the plate of food in front of you. you dig at the food, poking it around with your utensils— anything to keep your mind off of the fact that your heart is slightly racing right now. you don’t mean to be confrontational, but to be frank, you’re fed up that kaeya hasn’t been honest with you. “you can say that it came as a surprise to me when diluc said you hadn’t been there for a while now.”

“i guess it was only a matter of time before you’d ask diluc about me, and my whereabouts.” he sighs. he’s leaned into his chair by now, and he’s looking at you. your lips are locked into a tight line, a little peeved at the way he still talks so smoothly, and treats this so casually. as if he weren’t taking this seriously, and that this was just some other conversation to him. “i’m simply handling nightly duties.”

your grip becomes slightly tighter around your utensils, and he notices; your knuckles are turning slightly white, and your breathing is slightly out of pace. there’s a small change in his expression, and you can see the way his eyes narrow slightly.

“does it hurt to be honest to me about these things?” you ask him, genuinely hurt at the way it feels like he doesn’t trust you enough. “as your significant other, i guess i’d expected you to be more open to me. i’ve already told you countless times that no matter what, i’ll stick around— and even right now, i mean those words.”

once i tell, there’s no going back, is what he wishes to say. that it’ll be hard to look at someone the same way you’ve done before. “look,” he says as he sighs. kaeya wracks his mind for a way to respond— in a way where he wouldn’t be lying, but he wouldn’t subject you to danger either. “these matters, my nightly duties if you will, are matters between the abyss order and i. i’m afraid that if i tell you anything more about what goes on, you’ll become a target as well. too much knowledge can be harmful.”

“and you couldn’t just tell me that from the get-go?” it’s a fair point, and he throws you an apologetic look from across the table. “i understand, okay? just,” you swipe a hand through your hair. “no more secrets. i don’t think i’ll be as understanding if there’s a next time.”

“of course, my love.”

childe

he fears that one day, he’ll come home and you won’t be there anymore; his involvement with the fatui doesn’t make it any better.

the fatui is known for... it’s notorious deeds, to put it lightly. he had warned you beforehand, that dating a fatui harbinger will be exhausting. mentally, that is.

he’s bloodthirsty and thrill-seeking— it’s his nature. but he knows you don’t agree with the brutal ways the fatui handles their business, and he tries his best to take your mind off of it.

but it’s hard to ignore the words that circulate around liyue about certain things that he’s been up to. childe wonders that if you’ll get fed up one day, and just leave him.

there’s always a small amount of anxiety that bubbles up within childe whenever he approaches the doors of your shared bedroom. there’s that slightly irrational fear that he’ll walk in, and the room will be empty; you won’t be beneath the sheets in deep sleep, and your small breaths wouldn’t fill the room. his hand is hovering over the doorknob, and he almost laughs. a man like him, who stares death in its eyes, too afraid to open the door in fear that he’ll see something he doesn’t like.

childe gathers the courage to twist the knob, and the door creaks softly as he pushes it open. he pauses halfway, the fear taking over him for a second, but pushes through. he lets out an audible breath of relief— seeing you alive and well in front of him, and the comforts of just seeing that. his shoulders slack visibly at the confirmation, and he allows himself to enter the room.

he strips himself of clothes that he’s worn outside, changing into ones more fitting for bed. he’d jump straight into your arms if he could— but he knows that even in a sleepy state, you would still scold him.

he stalks towards the bed after doing the necessities. you stir at the way the bed dips beside you, feeling a pair of strong arms wrap around you. “childe?” you mutter. your voice is laced with sleepiness having just awoken, and you’re rubbing at your eyes as you turn to face him. it takes a second for your brain to start functioning, and you blurt out the first word that comes to mind. “hi.”

“hi to you too,” he mirrors, a small smile gracing his lips. your eyes are barely open as you glance at him, and your words are slightly slurred— but despite that, he truly thinks he’s the luckiest man in the world that he has someone as good as you. someone who sticks around, despite his affiliation. “i’ve missed you a lot, y’know.” he says.

“i missed you more,” you challenge, even in your sleep driven state.

he chuckles at you, before pressing a small kiss to your nose. “sure, sure. let’s fight about who misses each other more in the morning, okay?”

xiao

he’ll often doubt why you’re with him— and wonder if there’ll ever be a day where you run out of patience with him.

he’s getting better with affection, and he’s not finding it as weird as he had before. he doesn’t initiate things, still too embarrassed about the last time he failed to hug you. he wants things to be intimate, but there are still times where he flinches if you touch his hand or hug him, after forgetting to give him a heads up.

you always smile at him, and tell him that you care for his comfort the most. he can see the pain behind your smile though— almost a year of dating and he still hasn’t warmed up to you.

xiao still doesn’t fully understand the logic and need behind affection. but what he does know is that humans seek affection. they are social beings after all. knowing that, he worries that you’ll eventually want someone else who can give you the affection that you deserve.

“i’m sorry,” xiao apologizes in a panic. he was so thrown off-guard and so deep in his thought, that when you’d given him a back hug, he had reacted more violently than intended. thus, he had instinctively pushed you off his shoulder. it was hard to miss the flash of hurt in your eyes as you stumbled back, a little baffled, not expecting xiao to react in a such a way. “i... i apologize for that, y/n.”

it’s easy to notice the literal distance between you two and he reaches out for you, to which he stops himself midway. there’s just something that feels so wrong about touching you right now, especially after he’d just shoved you— it doesn’t feel right. even to now, he’s still scared of touching you. he finds himself getting frustrated at the way that he just can’t wrap his head around doing things in a romantic aspect. even he’s running out of patience with himself, so why do you still have so much?

you notice the way his hand stops, and you can see the countless of emotions within his eyes as he stares at his hands. there’s little glimpses of worry, of self-doubt, and you can tell right now that he’s being critical of himself. you don’t blame him for reacting that way, now that you look back on it in hindsight. anyone would’ve reacted like that as a form of self-defense.

“it’s alright, xiao, it really is.” you reassure him. “don’t be too harsh on yourself, okay? i said we’d take it as slow as we have to, and i plan on keeping my word for that. now... may i?” you gesture to his outstretched hand. he gives you a blank look at first, but nods slowly.

you take his hands in yours— you take your time to link your fingers, intertwining them and appreciating the way they mold together perfectly. you let him feel the way you draw soothing circles on the back of his hand. it’s such a simple action, but it flows with intimacy, and it has a weird feeling erupting in his stomach. (butterflies, he recalls you telling him.)

“see this?” you raise your linked hands. “if this is what you’re comfortable with at the moment, then i’m more than willing to hold hands for as long as you want.”

he wonders if you’ll grow impatient with him— but for now, he’s reassured you’ll stick around.

author’s note.

i’ve put this off for so long, and i intended on keeping it short— but then i felt bad and so i decided to indulge just a little