#but i know that it’s not like someone reads every last post i make

[hyperfocusthusly]

Lifelines

——-

Tommy had been staring at his phone, typing out a message, an apology, anything. He always ends up deleting it. Over and over, so when it actually rings in his hand he almost drops it. The news hits him like a train, pushes everything else to the background.

His sister is dead. Her and her husband, car accident, didn’t stand a chance.

The flight is bad, the funeral worse and then someone from social services shows up with a baby he met once when she was newborn and only really recognises from pictures. The woman hands him a 6 month old child and explains that this is what they wanted. The will stipulated that he would be their guardian in such a circumstance.

He stares at her tiny face. She stares back.

He shuts the door and wonders how anyone could think this was the right choice.

——-

He has to tell his Captain. He chooses to tell Lucy. He distinctly chooses not to tell anyone else.

——-

Babies are hard, as it turns out. There’s no room for grief with an insistent baby taking up every waking second. No rest from being relentlessly needed. No telling her she’d be better off without him.

He thinks about calling.

While he watches her crawl down his hallway after a woodlouse, pointing insistently, letting out an excited little “ah!” as the bug in question scuttles under the shoe rack. She follows it carefully, watching with an intense curiosity that makes something churn deep inside Tommy’s chest.

He thinks about calling.

The first time she gets a fever and won’t settle unless she’s upright on his chest. It’s not the first time Tommy has gone 24 hours without sleep but it feels worse. His nerves scraped raw from her distress. His hand on her back counting her breaths over and over. He thinks about calling.

But what could he possibly say?

——-

The secrecy works until it doesn’t. Until the morning that Chimney is stood in the local doctor’s car park watching Tommy, darker eyed and more scruffy, strap an 8 month old into a seat in the back of his truck. Tommy doesn’t see him, or hear Jee whisper “is that Uncle Tommy daddy? Is that his baby?”

——-

It’s how Chimney ends up stood outside of Tommy’s door one lunchtime. He isn’t home but Chimney knows he needs to wait. He knows what trying to handle a baby that age by yourself is like.

When Tommy gets home and sees who is waiting for him Chimney has to give him credit for actually pulling into the driveway rather than continuing in the opposite direction.

Tommy gets out of the car, Chimney doesn’t miss the moment he takes to collect himself before looking up to him.

“What are you doing here Howie?” He sounds ragged.

“Just checking in, two months is too long, I’m sure someone owes someone a beer.”

He goes for light hearted, trying to ease out some of the tension that has appeared in Tommy’s stance. He is hovering by the back door of his truck, fingers tucked into the door handle, endlessly thankful that she closed her eyes and fell asleep on the drive home. Something hovers in the air between them until Chimney takes a step forward.

“I saw you at the doctor’s last week.” Tommy’s brows crease slightly, then pull back as he realises what Chimney is actually telling him.

“Are you going to hide her from me forever?” Tommy looks relieved somehow, less trapped. He shakes his head and carefully takes her out of the car. Settling her into the crook of his arm and pulling her diaper bag over his shoulder.

“I don’t really drink beer too much anymore.”

“A coffee then?”

“Yeah.” He swallows nervously, tries not to let the implications of this meeting, and the conversation he knows is coming, get to him. “I could do with a coffee.”

—-

[read on A03]

Tagging some people who interacted with my abstract post about this (hope you enjoy!🫶🏻);

@leashybebes @beanarie @accefan-blog @big-urchin-energy @loucifersbitch @fyrehose @evansbuck-ley @sad-girl-hours23 @certifiedbisexualdisaster @theweewooshow @beckym2001 @kinardevans

And also some beloved pals;

@bidisasterevankinard @rubydaiquiri @sweaters-and-silly @apassingbird @sunnywithachanceofbi @theotherbuckley @desert--moonchild @comfortingevanbuckley @livelaughlou @epiphainie @actuallyitsellie @typicalopposite @wikiangela @bi-bi-buckleys @littlepaws9 @ohithankyou

[meanbossart]

hi rj! i’ve been following you for a couple of months now and i’m actually obsessed with your art and du drow 😭 i saw your recent post/reply to an ask about your favorite art from last year and for the comic, you put old habits. naturally i had to read it again and couldn’t help but wonder (and sorry if you’ve replied to this before), but what does du drow’s voice sound like?

you have such a knack for writing natural-sounding dialogue and as a writer i am SO envious hahah, and whenever you add dialogue to your art pieces i imagine drow speaking with a low timbre or baritone voice?? do you perhaps have a voice actor’s voice in mind for drow? and god i know hope this man has some sort of accent or “curve” to the end of his words (i say this as someone who speaks 3 languages and sounds different in every single one)!!

Hello! Oh, I apologize for what may be a very boring answer, but DU drow's voice is simply intended to read as the Dark Urge's voice (number 5, I believe) that the game defaults to when you pick that origin.

That's the voice I had to listen to it throughout the entirety of the game, all hundred-something hours, every time I clicked on the guy, had him attack, crouch, or start a dialogue. Neil Roberts' cadence and accent has been seared into my brain and I can't hear it as anything else. The "flair" of DU drow's sentences and vocabulary is also modeled entirely after what the game's acting provides for a dark urge character. I guess the ONLY note I could make is that he's about 10% less intense during normal conversation.

(voice 5 starts at 7:07)

So, deep voice, very gravelly, and a pronounced - and surprisingly a little posh - english accent. He performs a sort of rugged elderness, (he's always made sure to sound older than he actually is) enunciates carefully, and speaks slowly. He's far more casual around people he's close to (unless he's trying to woo them, of course) and knows to talk simpler and softer with children - in general, he has very good control over his words and delivery, though he gets swept in emotion half the time after being tadpoled.

[navybrat817]

Hiiii Navy- how is our biker Bucky? I'm excited that his reader is a nurse because I am also a nurse...!

I'm glad you're excited, and I may have to get more of your insight as this goes on. And how he's doing...

Thinking About You

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky's thinking about you after meeting you.

Word Count: Over 500

Warnings: Mix of fluff and dirty thoughts, love at first sight, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: I'll try to post more of this AU once more. ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Edit by the beautiful @nixakimbo and divider by the incredible @firefly-graphics . Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Bucky’s thinking about your beautiful eyes and smile, but how you’re much more than a pretty face and how you must really be some sort of angel. You were a nurse, after all. Nurses helped provide comfort, protection, and care to others. You helped people heal. And, fuck, do you look good in white.

He’s thinking about how you listened to him when he talked. You were actually interested in his writing and the bar. He hoped you’d stop by at some point. Maybe he could convince you to stay after closing so the two of you could have the place to yourself. He’d even share some of his writing with you.

He’s thinking about how your eyes will light up when he brings the club to the blood drive tomorrow. At least, he hopes they’ll light up and that you don’t be afraid. His brothers could come across as intimidating from a first glance, but they were all good guys and the drive was for a good cause. You also didn’t seem put off that he was a biker.

He’s thinking about what an idiot he is for not asking for your number, and how he should’ve gone after you when you left. If he had your number right now, he’d message you just to say hi. He wasn’t leaving the drive tomorrow without asking for it.

He’s thinking about what your past relationships were like. How did your exes treat you? He’ll treat you well. Why didn’t the relationships last? Did anyone break your trust? If someone hurt you he’ll take the pain away. If the pain is no longer there he’ll do his best to help you should it surface unexpectedly.

He’s thinking about how he wants to take care of you, how he wants to learn your love language, and earn your trust. He wants to be your friend and have you confide in him, to learn your fears so he can protect you from them, and to learn how to make you smile again when you’re feeling down or hurt.

He’s thinking about how he wants to confide in you, too. To be vulnerable and open. It isn’t easy to let people in, but you make it seem effortless for him. He wants you to see every side of himself, every shadow, and tell you every story about every scar and tattoo.

He’s thinking about you as he lays in bed, fisting his cock, imagining the sounds you’d make as you lay beneath him. Or on top of him. How you’ll melt on his tongue. How blissed out you’d look when you fall apart. He knows you’ll feel like heaven when he’s inside you if you ever let him get that far.

He’s thinking about you post orgasm when he catches his breath. It’s a little scary that he already wants you to be his girl, and he refuses to believe it’s just infatuation. It’s something deeper. And if you give him a chance, he’ll make sure you never regret it.

I guess we can consider this part of Ficlet Friday? Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

[serxinns]

Harsh words from a beloved friend

Forgotten reader au scenario

Btw this was inspired by this post right here, and the concept and AU are NOT mine. They belong to @lovelybrooke . If you want to know more about the AU and support the creator, please do. They need all the love for their hard work!

WARNING! Before you read this fic includes: violence towards the reader, bullying, infantilization towards the reader, xenophobia? (I think idk), yandere behaviors, manipulation, gaslighting, and other topics that I may have forgotten that are probably triggering as well read at your own risk

A/n: whew, it's done finally. I hope you like it, everyone! Please tell me if I did represent infantilization inappropriately or not accurately in the comments. Constructive criticism is allowed. Also, if anyone can tell me what the headboard represents, it means you get your request written next!

You were lying in your bed relieved at last after barely surviving another harsh day at UA ever since the teachers and your classmates found out about you and Shigaraki's relationship for things have been going crazy and downhill, Aizawa would always have a strange expression on his face as if he was ashamed of himself and pitying you, it felt strange and discomforting like he NOW realized his actions which ticked you off a little but you brushed it pretending to be nonchalant about it

Next was your former friend Izuku, ever since he heard the news he and his gang would make constant checks on you which was very unnecessary in your opinion, izuku would purposely get in the middle of you and Neito's conversation, asking about your concerns and try to get you to spill out how you currently feel in his intention to try to be a better friend again by comforting you in his imagination to your luck tho Neito would shoo him off before he could even continue and quickly drag you away which you thanked him for.

But Bakugo and his friends were the worst. If not worse hell. Every time you walk into the class, they start to give you piercing glares as if they intentionally want to make you tense up. Their words have been becoming harsher during training but you tried to ignore them until they started using physical threats under a ruse as "jokes" Honestly you were scared for your safety so you tried to avoid them as much as possible, begging either Neito or Shinso to assist you while dismissing their questions or concerns, not even thinking what could happen if you were to ever run into them alone

Whenever you are, you repeatedly check your surroundings, making sure nobody is following you, making sure the coast is clear enough to make a run for it in your dorms and locking it.

You were beginning to be more skittish and more anxious about your surroundings always getting started by every single touch on the shoulder or when your friends tried to get your attention, whenever they asked about your sudden behavior you quickly pushed it to the side or made excuses

One day you decided to eat lunch with Tamaki since Hitoshi and Neito were busy with training and stuff, the two of you didn't talk much when eating together but you were comfortable with his presence enough to make some small talk here or there then continued eating, as you were enjoying your lunch Tamaki spoke something out the blue "y/n..are you ok?" You stopped eating and looked up at him "Of course I am why wouldn't I be" Tamaki hesitated a bit but he continued "Y-you're acting all skittish all of a sudden whenever we talk you feel like someone or something is watching you please I'm your friend you can tell me anything-" "I'm fine Tamaki I promise you dont need to be asking me" Tamaki was taken aback at your quick response you noticed his guilty expression and took a deep breath

"I-I'm sorry I'm just stressed from all the tests and stuff you know hero stuff can be stressful" A chuckle left your mouth as you took another bite "Oh alright if you say so but if anything birhtering you dont be afraid to c-come to me alright" you sighed in relief happy that Tamaki believed you so the Two if you continued with your lunch hang out

But that was so far from the truth

Tamaki knows when something is wrong especially when it comes to the people he cares deeply about, for example, he knows when Mirio is faking a smile or when he senses Neijire feeling uncomfortable or how Kirishima tries to stay determined even tho he can hear the slight tremble and stutter in his voice, and this time he now sees it more Cleary as he sees you slowly taking a bite out your food sweating in fear and your fingers twitch a bit it's so clear that you're nervous about something so why not tell him?

He swore to this day he swore he'd find out about whoever is causing you this, and he would protect you from them; for now, he just needs to keep a close eye on you from a distance...

When the two of you finished lunch, Tamaki offered to walk you to the class which you accepted as two if you walked towards your class in a comfortable silent, as you made it to the door you waved farewell to Tamaki and made it to your seat

As the class carried on and everyone was writing down notes for the next test, you couldn't help but feel some glares in you. Of course, you knew who they were, but you felt a particular glare, a glare that made your spine curl up. You wanted to ignore the feeling, but it just wouldn't go away curious but scared you grabbed a mirror/glasses (just any object that fits with a mirror) faced towards you, and slowly rotated it to see a reflection of a couple of your classmates

It seemed fine everyone was either focused on their notes reading or doing whatever until it hit Kirishima... you jumped when his eyes were staring directly at the back of your head intensely his teeth almost showing as if he was gonna rip you apart after class, your heart rate was now increasing you tried to steady your breathing to cover up the fear and confusion, why was he looking at you like..wait of course you know why but why does it feel like he's gonna do something to me...

You looked around to see something or someone to save you from this situation until you remember you do not have anyone in this class to rely on and Neito and Shinso were extra busy, as the class bell rang everyone got up to their seats including Kirishima he began slowly walking towards you with a dangerous glint in his eyes you stood still shaking a bit in your seat trying your best to avoid contact he was inches away from your desk

As he was about to take another step, a sickly sweet voice came out of the blue and blocked your view between Kirishima and you. "Why don't we go to the library for tutoring? We haven't done it in a while, plus I'll help you improve!" You looked up that the black ponytail girl momo was it? The two of you would do tutoring together at the beginning when she began to "forget" them and just stop hosting and inviting you all together

You didn't like her sessions at all now that you remember she would always treat you like some sort of baby early on as if she was holding an animal picture book and pointing out all the animals and mimicking the noises you were so glad Kendo and teru eventually teached you

But it seemed like you didn't have a choice, but you would rather go with a ponytail than wanna know that guard dog would do; all you had to do was zone out of Momo's lessons and wait until it got dark to make an excuse to meet up with Kendo, perfect plan right?

The library would've been peacefully quiet if it weren't for Momo constantly getting your attention to look at some words that you already knew and then talk to you slowly so you could "understand" better you muster up a smile at best to reassure her that you were listening when in your mind you wanted to leave as fast as possible and meet with Kendo

As the clock finally gave you mercy and struck 5pm, you hurriedly made an excuse to end today's session. "Oh man, momo, I think the tutoring session is up. Gotta leave!" You quickly got up, pulled in the chairs, and were about to walk out. "So soon? We just got started! Plus, I can do 2 more hours-" "Oh I would love to but I'm meeting up with Kendo and I don't wanna be a bad friend and ditch her" You didn't see Momo's cheery expression fall as you were too busy packing up and heading out the library "I'll see ya later!" You bid her as the door slammed shut the library became quiet once again with only the ponytail girl's blood boiling trying to keep her cool with a tight lip smile as she waved

You pull out your phone quickly texting her that you are coming which she replies with a smiley face emoji you chuckle texting her some memes and pictures as the two of you are spamming each other's memes back and forth you don't notice how much trouble you'll be in

As you accidentally bump into someone, you quickly backed away for a split second and apologized. You took your eyes out of your phone for a second to see who you bumped into to give them a proper apology and saw..

Oh no...

Kirishima

"You.." you mentally cussed as you backed away from him cautiously. "Oh uh hey-" "Don't 'hey' me, you traitor, you, Mole!" His anger was building up as he stomped towards you and pushed you on the ground; you could barely comprehend what the hell he was talking about and why he pushed you. "What-" "You sympathizer, you traitor. I don't even know how a villain like you could still be in this school!" His words are full of venom" "I know we were a bit harsh to you, but outing us out to the most dangerous fucking villain?! What the hell is wrong with you!?"

"I didn't know he was a villain nor did I know his name!? It's not like I knew he played video games!" "Again with these weak excuses, it was so obvious he was Shigaraki!" "Maybe I would've known I had friends and not be bullied by some blonde brute and his lapdogs!" Kirishima turned to you now with a more angry expression as if he was offended without a moment he grabbed you by the collar of your shirt and lifted you to his level

"You have no right to call us that when you're a simple Mole to a dangerous villain who is trying to kill us all!" He molded his free into a fist and reeled it back you bit his hand as hard as you could to make him let go but he bit his tongue and endured the pain even when his hand drew blood

As he was about to land a punch, a sudden tentacle came shooting out of nowhere toward Kirishima's free hand restraining it "Kirishima" The red hair froze at the familiarity of who that voice was, he slowly turned to see where the voice came from and only stopped mid way when he saw the indigo hair male, Tamaki his eyes glared at Kirishima in disappointment and betrayal, Kirishima quickly dropped you as you landed with a harsh thud, rude.

"T-Tamaki senpai!!, it's not what it is-" "insulting your classmate and was about to punch them? Yeah, seems how it exactly is." his words were cut off as he walked past him and toward you, gently helping you up and getting on your feet. "Are you okay? He didn't leave any bruises or marks on you, did he?" You shook your head, still in shock about Tamakis sudden behavior, as Kirishima's anger grew at the sight of the person he grew respect for that he looked up to! Is defending you?! He couldn't stand it

"Why are you defending them you don't know how much danger they put us through!" As Tamaki looked back at the boy with a serious expression," And, do you think bullying and degrading them is any better? This isn't something a hero should do, Kirishima. Have you ever thought about what they feel about it or if they intentionally wanted to?" Kirishima paused for a moment and didn't utter anything, only just avoiding his gaze. "I thought you were better than this, Kirishima; what happened to you being the "manliest hero in the hero alliance?" Was that all a ruse?" "N-no tamaki senpai it no-"

"I don't want you anywhere near me or them I don't respect someone who bullies others"

Those words shattered Kirishima as he looked in disbelief. His thoughts became a blur as he saw his mentor, his friend, leaving with his hands protectively around you, getting far away from him... was he the problem all this time?

Was he actually a lapdog?..

...

"Thanks back there you didn't have to." He stopped at his track and smiled. "No, It's fine. You weren't in the wrong anyway he was. Don't feel guilty for something you did that wasn't in your control." You looked up at him, surprised."You're not mad at me? even when I became a...mole?" That's when Tamaki embraced you with a warm hug "Of course not, even when you make a dangerous mistake like that it was the villain's fault for trying to get in your head and manipulate you but you stood strong and made the right choice by informing the teachers therefore you're not a traitor nor a Mole in my perspective"

Your eyes brimmed with tears with his words, "Thank you, thank you," as you hugged him back a little tighter. Was your luck finally turning around? Maybe not, but slowly, but at least you had more people who didn't see you as a nuisance, a child, or any traitor. It felt nice that you were treated as a human being Even if it was temporary.

A sudden buzz on your phone caught your attention, and it was still snuggled in your pocket. As you pick it up, you see a bunch of missed calls and messages from Shinso, Neito, and Kendo, all spamming concerns about your safety or if they needed to come. "Oh shit! I gotta run my friends are worried for me and Tamaki thank you I'm sure you're gonna be a great hero one day as you gave him one last hug before running off looking for you're friends before they hunt someone down to find you

Timeskip

The next day was a regular day as usual you went into class avoided everyone as possible (mostly Izuku and his gang) sat down at the back of the class and started the school day as you were doodling down stuff you noticed how dull and quiet Kirishima became when he usually would go to mina as they chat each other's ears off all-day but instead he stayed where he was and just looked down at his desk mina came over looking concern for him

"Hey Kirishima you ok man" The bubbly teen hit him on his shoulder playfully but he all did was look at her, nod, and go back to what he was doing which made the hair girl awkward and murmur an "ok" and sat back down when the teacher came in to start the lesson

Even at training, Kirishima didn't utter a single word to you or his friends. Even when they were teasing you, he just looked away. "Hehe, yeah, they're so weak, right? Kirishima, cmon say something!" His other friend Denki kept pressuring him poking his shoulder and urging him to speak but all smack his hand away and walked back leaving his friends in shock and disappointment

Even at lunch, he wasn't even interacting with anyone, just playing with his food as he barely ate. Everyone sat in silence and stared at him until his best friend finally spoke up, "The hell is up with your shitty hair?" He was then ignored as the red hair kept poking with his food staring down at it, making the blonde more irritated. He snatched his tray away and put it far from the table "Are you ignoring me?" Kirishima finally looked up at him with an annoyed expression "I just said millions of times I'm fine blasty so can I please have my food back" bakugo slammed his hand down hard infront of him

"Like hell you are! You've been acting quiet for the whole damn day! And It's getting pretty damn annoying, so spit it out. God damnit, I'm tired of this childish shit" "Kaccha,n, chill o, ut, . Don't you think you're being a bit harsh?" Denki butted him, trying to de-escalate the situation "he's right. What if he's having a bad day today? Or recently but he's right Kirishima we're all worried for you so please stop ignoring us and tell us" Everyone at the table joined him questioning and pressuring him to speak

He covered his ears not wanting to hear more without glancing a final Time at Tamaki and you talking and smiling at each other laughing tears began to brim his eyes as he got up from his seat and quickly ran out leaving his group and even Katsuki speechless

As he made it to the bathroom, he locked himself in there and took a deep breath. He then lifted his head and stared at the mirror, his reflection. "Why, just why did he have to go side with them fuck.." tears slide across his cheeks and fall through the sink he wanted to be angry at you so bad wanted to pin the blame on you or something to make him feel like he was in the right but the memories the flashbacks of how he and his friends mistreated you keep flooding back into his mind making him frustrated and yet gulity..?

Is he feeling guilty? For himself, no... for you, but how?! You're supposed to be the bad guy, not him. Why is he feeling remorse for you out of all people? Why does he suddenly feel like he wants to go on your knees and apologize it was supposed to be the opposite it's such a headache honestly and he couldn't make it stop he wants to stop thinking altogether

A knock at the door startled him and snapped him out of his thoughts. "Uh hey, is the bathroom available he stared at the door for a moment until he spoke up, clearing his throat, "Uh yeah, sorry! I'll unlock it!"

[iamconstantine]

arcane characters as college staff

Mel

History professor 

Refers to all students by (honorific) (surname)

Nothing but praise on ratemyproffesor

“I didn’t like history until I took Professor Medarda’s class” 

Doesn’t write scholarly articles, just giant ass books that she pumps out almost every year somehow

Quickly responds to emails. No response = its in the syllabus 

“Is there any make up work I can do to get my grade up—“ Absolutely not

But if you go the writing center you can get extra credit

Every year her students ask for an extension on the final project and every year she gives a long and furious rant about how the project was visible online from Day 1 and they had all semester to work on it

She has a beautiful office that looks like a miniature library and she only sees students by appointment

Jayce

Physics professor

Is a prolific author but somehow can’t figure out how to set up the course online

Prints cheesy physics memes 

Every zoom meeting begins with 1000 messages saying “professor Talis we can’t hear you your mic isn’t on” every. time.

you can come see him in his office any time, door’s always open

but his office is so messy you probably won’t be able to sit because he has a stack of papers on every chair

“Everyone got this question on the exam wrong so I’m going to give everyone credit because that means i didn’t teach it properly”

Always throws an end-of-year party at his place 

Caitlyn

English Literature professor 

would win best dressed of the staff, always shows up in the slacks-and-blazer fit

“To understand why the narrator wears red shoes, we need to take a look at the sociopolitical state of Edinburgh in 1864.”

if you reply to a discussion board post with just “I agree” you’re not getting credit and it isn’t up for discussion 

Never reads contemporary fiction. The “newest” book she’s read is The Great Gatsby

“We’re not having a party but if you want to bring snacks and soda to the last day of class that’s fine”

Covers a lot of authors but it somehow always comes back to Emily Dickenson

Is that teacher that assigns 400-page books every week

Constantly publishing in lit journals (rumor has it she writes steamy open-door romance books under a pen-name but no one has confirmed this)

Ekko

Art professor 

You have to actively screw up to get a bad grade with him

He wrote thousands of letters to the board until they caved and gave the class a proper kiln

“Write a three-page essay explaining why AI art is not art and insisting otherwise is spitting in the face of humankind. Double spaced. Due Friday 11:59”

Throws back coffee. Has a coffeemaker in the studio. Two of them. 

“Hey guys some of you are submitting assignments at 2 in the morning. It can wait until the next day. Please get some sleep.”

He’s created awe-inspiring pieces but if you just wanna paint a frog wearing a hat he’ll say “that’s cool”

Says he knows who banksy is but will never tell

He gets way too deep in the zone. Once reached for his coffee cup while painting, drank paint water instead. Didn’t notice.

Jinx

Chemistry professor 

If you email her the response will be “k” or “no” and nothing else

Waits until twenty minutes after the class begins to email everyone that class is canceled 

Never wears a coat, goggles, or gloves. But will call out students if they don’t

takes 5 years to post grades

“Look I’m not remembering any names. Too many. If I’m talking to you I’ll just point”

Puts a meme on the projector every day. Mostly incomprehensible. Picture of a horse on an beach and it just says “Zimbabwe”

lowest score on ratemyprofessor

someone creates a website called ratemystudent and administration has no proof that it was her because technically the students with bad scores being the same students that get bad grades in her class can be coincidental 

Viktor

Biomedical engineering professor 

Only professor who still uses chalkboards

First day of class is first day of class. No reviewing the syllabus, turn to page 34 in your textbook.

Puts things in the syllabus to catch people who use ChatGPT. If you’re caught, you’re removed from his class. Immediately. You will not get to plead your case.

Most of his cited sources are himself

Literally begs students to thrift their textbooks online instead of buying them from the school. Provides free PDFs as often as he can.

He reads journals every day and will write personal letters to authors he disagrees with

If a student asks a particularly dumb question he’ll step out of the room for ten minutes to compose himself and then resume teaching like nothing happened

Vi

Not a professor, works at the on-campus gym and leads clubs

Constantly curses without batting an eye. Students will leave class with their very uptight professor then come to the soccer club where vi walks in like “sorry I’m late guys i had a motherfucker of a headache this morning”

Please don’t ask her about anything that isn’t club or sport related. If you ask for directions or how to get in contact with student services she’s got nothing

If she refs for a game and you’re on the opposing team you’d better watch yourself. She will rip you a new one if you break any rules. One time a player grabbed one of her member’s mask during a game and he left crying after Vi was done with him

Students run into her at the local hangouts a lot but it’s never awkward. just reminds you not to party too hard before the game tomorrow 

Leads pretty much every club but dance. Wouldn’t admit it but she has no sense of rhythm and refuses to even do it as a student

You can call her coach or captain or just Vi, whatever you want. But if you call her Violet she’ll stare you down until you correct yourself

Heimerdinger

Anthropology professor 

Spends the first day of class getting to know everyone. “We’re going to go around and give our names and a fun fact about ourselves!”

Gives the “Nacirema” assignment and can’t wait to tell everyone the catch

His classroom is filled with artifacts. Don’t ask about any of them because it will take up class time

If you can’t make it to class he sends really nice responses saying he understands, then checks in when you come back

The only thing that puts him in a bad mood is the “why do anthropologists study dinosaurs if anthropology is about people” question. He’s old and tired 

Keeps thinking about retiring, keeps changing his mind

Silco

Political science professor

His classroom is bare and blank. No life. Just fluorescent lights and chairs.

Brags about how few people pass his class

Very strict on attendance. Too many absences and you’re out. 

If the assignment is due at 11:59 and you turn it in at 12:00, it’s late

“I am quite interested to hear why you believe you are deserving of a higher grade when you’ve spent less than thirty minutes attending all of my classes combined. Please, continue.”

Will straight up roast other professors no problem. Encourages students to pass it along

He encourages debate but the only thing students debate about outside of class is whether he’s hot or creepy af

Final project is a choice between A) A ten-page essay on why there is no ethical consumption under capitalism, or B) a presentation on why the country is doomed

Vander

Education professor 

Makes his own series of Crash Course-esque videos

Comes to class in jeans at best. Sweats, sometimes. 

He has one coffee mug that says #1 Dad and he refuses to use anything else

He puts fun questions on his exams, like riddles. If no one gets it, he actually gets sad

Whenever he erases the whiteboard he always misses a spot. He’s that professor.

If he catches you plagiarizing, you get one pass before he reports it. But you have to come to his office so he can tell you how disappointed he is and how much potential you have

He gives a seminar about how worried he is for the future of education and the wellbeing of the next generation and everyone leaves feeling guilty. Everyone.

Make a pop culture reference in class and everything will grind to a halt so you can explain it to him. Visuals help.

Sevika

Librarian

If you play music in the library she’ll walk up to you and just go “are you joking”

Have a phone call on speaker and she’s hanging it up for you

There’s signs telling you to be quiet every three feet

If you see her outside of school no you didn’t

She’s in charge of leading classes on accessing academic databases and she fucking hates it

Somehow knows where every book is down to the shelf. She’ll tell you what you’re looking for before you can finish your sentence

technically she’s supposed to do a walkthrough before closing for the night but if you can’t read the library hours on the signs it’s your fault if you get locked in

[sasheemo]

When We Collide

Chapter 14

Chapter Summary: You wake to Agatha's unsettling yet impossibly grounding presence, unspoken questions threatening to unravel a fragile moment. And just like that, walls begin to crack.

Word Count: 2.8k

A/N (very long, sorryyy): I still can’t believe it, but here we are. After exactly one month since the last chapter was published, I’m officially back! I can’t promise the creative block I’ve been struggling with for When We Collide is completely gone, but I’m really trying, and I’m so happy to continue this story.

Before you dive in, I just want to take a moment to make a small dedication:

Over the past week, I’ve received an overwhelming amount of love and support that I never expected. Moots, strangers, and even anonymous readers stepped forward in the comments of my update posts on Tumblr or slid into my DMs to show their appreciation and encouragement. You know who you are. It’s because of all of you that, in just over 24 hours, I managed to write an entire chapter after being stuck for a whole month. You gave me an incredible boost of energy and motivation. So, this chapter is for you. To my moots, followers, and each dedicated reader of When We Collide. To everyone who messaged me privately or left a comment on a post or a fic. To those who, even without reaching out directly, have always supported me with their thoughts and good vibes, waiting patiently for an update and never abandoning this story. What you’ve done, and continue to do, for me is amazing. You’ve filled me with so much love and support, and I truly hope this chapter (and the ones to come—yes, they’re coming, hehe) can serve as a proper thank-you.

It’s true that writing should primarily be for yourself, but when you receive this kind of support and encouragement, it becomes something truly special to write for others too.

Let me know what you think of the chapter, and thank you from the bottom of my heart! 💜

PS: Spoiler—I literally felt my heart break while writing a certain piece of dialogue. Had to pause, pick up the pieces, and keep going. Sorry y’all, I couldn’t resist 💔

Chapter Index

Read on AO3

You stir awake to the faint glow of the early afternoon, the light filtering softly through the edges of the curtains. For a brief, suspended moment, your mind lingers in the haze of sleep, the kind where nothing feels quite real, and you’re not entirely sure where you are. Then the weight registers.

The warm, undeniable weight of someone pressed against you.

Your breath catches, your body locking in place as you become acutely, painfully aware of Agatha’s head resting on your shoulder.

Her dark hair brushes against your neck, faintly ticklish, while her arm lies draped across your waist.

You don’t dare move. Not even a twitch.

Every nerve in your body stands at attention, screaming for you to do something. But you lie there, frozen, your heart hammering so loudly you’re sure it’ll wake her. The thought of turning your head to look at her fills you with a mixture of terror and curiosity, and you’re too paralyzed to face either.

You try—really try—to focus on the practicalities. How did this even happen? You’d climbed into bed hours ago, stiff as a board, determined to keep your distance. You’d stayed on your side, curled up awkwardly, staring at the wall like it held the answers to every question you were too afraid to ask.

But then sleep had come. Or at least something like it—a restless tangle of half-dreams and unconscious movements, shifting and turning under the weight of the night’s tension. 

At some point, the gap between you must have closed. At some point, her arm must have found its way across you.

A thousand excuses rush through your mind, each more fragile than the last, as if rationalizing the moment could make the closeness disappear. But they all crumble, leaving behind one undeniable truth: you don’t want to move. Not really.

You tell yourself it’s fear. Fear of waking her. Fear of the look on her face if she realized the position you’re in. Confusion? Annoyance? Disgust? The thought twists your stomach into painful knots. But beneath the fear, another emotion lingers, quieter and far more dangerous.

It feels… good.

You hate how much you notice it, how your senses seem to betray you with every passing second. The softness of her hair brushing your neck, the heat of her body radiating against your side, the faint pressure of her arm resting on you—it all feels far too natural, far too easy, like some cruel joke the universe decided to play.

You squeeze your eyes shut, willing yourself to move, to shift, to put some distance between you. But your body doesn’t listen. You’re too hyper-aware of every tiny detail, of how close she is, of how safe she feels.

A shaky exhale escapes you, your chest rising just enough to disturb the delicate stillness between you. Agatha stirs slightly in her sleep, a soft sound escaping her lips as her arm tightens instinctively around you.

Your heart practically leaps into your throat.

You swallow hard, trying to convince yourself that this is normal. That there’s nothing strange or inappropriate about lying here like this. That it doesn’t mean anything. That it’s just an accident, a coincidence. That’s all.

It’s fine. Everything is fine. Except it’s not. 

Because no matter how much you want to believe that this is accidental, that she’s completely unaware, a small, traitorous part of you wonders what it would mean if she wasn’t.

You try to focus on the ceiling, on the faint creak of the house settling around you, on anything other than her. But it’s impossible. Because no matter how still you stay, no matter how hard you try to quiet your thoughts, Agatha’s presence fills every corner of the room—and every corner of you.

Your breath hitches as you finally, finally let yourself turn your head. It’s tentative at first, a small, hesitant shift of movement. 

Your chin almost brushes her forehead, and the nearness of her—so close you could count the faint freckles scattered across her skin—leaves you utterly undone. 

For a moment, you can’t think, can’t breathe. The sight of her like this, her face so close to yours, is enough to send your thoughts spiraling.

Your gaze moves carefully, tracing her features as if each one might dissolve into smoke if you looked too quickly.

Sharp and soft. The words loop in your mind like a mantra, and you can’t stop staring. The sharp lines of her jaw and cheekbones, the delicate curve of her lips—they blend danger and allure in a way that leaves you off-balance, like she was never meant to be anything less than both.

Your let your thoughts drift, unbidden, to what you know about her. And, perhaps more troubling, to what you don’t.

You’ve spent all your life in the same coven, shared the same spaces, breathed the same air, yet she’s always been distant. A figure just out of reach, admired and feared in equal measure by most.

You sift through your memories, trying to piece together fragments, to make sense of the person sprawled across you now.

Everyone has been speaking of Agatha’s power in hushed tones since you were children—the raw, unpredictable force of her magic. How it brims with potential but defies control. Even the older witches have always been wary of her, watching her like a storm poised on the horizon.

And then there’s the story. The one no one speaks of outright but that lingers in fragments, carried around by rumors and half-truths.

It was just over a couple of years ago. One of the daughters of your mother’s friends—a girl you barely knew, though her name still echoes through the village homes and halls—was found dead in the woods. Cold, lifeless. Drained.

The whispers said it was Agatha.

They claimed she had taken the girl’s power, siphoned it like a flame devouring a candlewick. That she left her there, alone in the woods, to die. 

But that girl wasn’t just anyone. She was Agatha’s best friend.

The rumors painted it as a calculated act of power, a way to send a message and solidify her place as the rightful heir to the coven’s legacy. They said her magic demanded sacrifice, and she hadn’t hesitated to give one.

But that version of the story never sat right with you.

Even more so now, with Agatha asleep beside you, her head resting on your shoulder, her breathing slow and even in sleep. The idea of this Agatha—the Agatha who clings to you in her slumber—being the monster the rumors describe feels impossible to reconcile.

You’ve always wondered if there was more to the story. If the truth had been buried beneath layers of fear, jealousy, and Evanora’s carefully orchestrated manipulations. 

Because if there’s one thing you know about Evanora Harkness, it’s that she’d burn the truth to ashes to protect her image.

The slow rise and fall of your chest brushes faintly against Agatha’s arm, jolting you back to the present. You exhale shakily, your gaze locking once again on her face.

She looks so… harmless. The thought slips into your mind unbidden, and you can’t stop yourself from clinging to it. Here, now, in your bed, tangled against you, she does look harmless. Innocent, even.

And yet… the stories remain. The danger, the sharpness, the fury—it’s still there, lurking just beneath her momentary serene exterior. 

You should move. You really should. Break the moment, pull away, regain the distance you’re supposed to have. But you don’t. You can’t. Because for all the danger and mystery that surrounds Agatha Harkness, there’s something else, too.

Something that keeps you rooted in place, your gaze drinking her in, feeling her presence in every breath you take.

The stillness is interrupted by a faint shift. Agatha stirs against you, her body shifting slightly as her fingers twitch where her hand rests near your waist. Her breathing changes, no longer the even, steady rhythm of sleep but something shallower, more conscious.

You freeze, your own breath caught in your chest. Her head lifts just a fraction before settling again, her hair brushing against your neck in a way that sends an involuntary shiver down your spine. For one agonizing moment, you wonder if she’ll pull away.

But she doesn’t.

Instead, Agatha lets out a soft exhale, her lashes fluttering as her eyes blink open, slow and heavy with sleep. There’s a beat—a single, suspended second where her gaze adjusts, flitting from the faint light of the room to you.

Her arm remains draped across your waist, though her fingers flex slightly, testing their place. Her lips twitch, just barely, into something resembling a smirk.

“Is this how you treat all your guests, or am I just special?” she murmurs, her voice husky and rough from sleep, the teasing lilt sharp enough to make your stomach flip.

The words pull you from your haze of panic into full-blown mortification, heat rising to your face as you open your mouth, then close it, scrambling for a response. 

“You—you asked me to stay!” you stammer, your voice breaking as you shift just a little, glaring at her. “Don’t twist this into—”

Agatha cuts you off with an expression so faux-innocent you want to scream, her tone light but laced with mockery. 

“Did I?” she muses, her brow quirking as though she’s genuinely pondering it. “Hmm. Doesn’t sound like me.”

Your jaw drops. 

Your heart hasn’t stopped pounding since she stirred, and her smirk only makes it worse. The audacity, the smugness. She’s so calm, like waking up tangled together is just another morning for her.

For you? It’s a waking nightmare—or at least, that’s the excuse you cling to as you try to suppress the heat that is completely taking hold of your whole body. Your fists clench at your sides, and your frustration boils over. 

“You did! You said—” you stop yourself, huffing in exasperation as her smirk turns into a full-blown grin. “Ugh, you’re impossible.”

“And you’re far too fun to annoy.” she counters shifting slightly, her arm sliding away from your waist as she props herself up on one elbow.

You bite back another retort, your face burning as you turn your head to look anywhere but at her. She’s infuriating. Smug and sharp-tongued and—close. Too close.

The silence stretches for a beat, and you take a deep breath, willing yourself to calm down. 

It doesn’t help that she’s still watching you, her gaze a quiet weight against your skin. You can feel it without looking—how her smirk lingers, how her eyes flicker between amusement and something unreadable.

She shifts again, finally breaking the silence. 

“Well,” she says softly, her voice still carrying that teasing lilt, “if this is how you handle all your guests, I can’t imagine they stay very long.”

Your breath hitches, and you glance at her despite yourself, catching the faintest flicker of something beneath her grin. She’s teasing, sure—but there’s an edge to it, a quiet discomfort she’s trying to mask.

You huff again, crossing your arms and refusing to let her get the last word. “Maybe they don’t. But you did ask me to stay, so if you have complaints, take it up with yourself.”

Her grin softens slightly, but she doesn’t respond. Instead, she leans back a little, her hand brushing against the blanket as she rests her weight on her palm. Her gaze flickers briefly to the window, her expression almost thoughtful.

You watch her for a moment, your own irritation ebbing away as curiosity takes its place. She’s still infuriating, still impossible—but there’s something else, too. Something quieter. 

You should let it go. The tension, the moment—it’s already too much and you both literally just woke up. But the question lodges itself in your throat, unspoken words buzzing like a swarm. You don’t even mean to say it. It just… slips out. “What really happened that day?”

Agatha’s head tilts slightly, her eyes cutting back to yours in a sharp, measured motion. 

“What?” she asks, her tone casual, but there’s a sudden wariness in her gaze, the edge of a blade being drawn.

You hesitate, regretting the words almost immediately, but it’s too late now. 

“The girl.” you clarify, your voice quieter than you intended. “The one they say you… killed.”

The room seems to still, the air shifting as the words settle between you. 

Agatha doesn’t move, her expression unreadable, but the flicker of something raw flashes behind her eyes—a shadow that vanishes almost as quickly as it appears.

Her lips curve into a smirk that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. 

“Really?” she drawls, leaning back slightly, the picture of feigned nonchalance. “That’s what you want to talk about? Here? Now?”

Your stomach twists at the sharpness of her tone, but you don’t look away. 

“I just…” You pause, choosing your words carefully. “I just want to know the truth.”

Agatha lets out a soft, bitter laugh, shaking her head as she looks away again. 

“The truth…” she mutters, her voice low, almost mocking. “You’re the first person to actually ask me for it, you know?”

The words hit you like a slap, leaving you momentarily speechless. 

“Wait.” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. “No one’s ever—?”

“No.” Agatha cuts in sharply, her tone laced with dry amusement that barely conceals the bitterness beneath.“Why would they? They already think they know. They don’t need my version.” 

She scoffs, her lips curling into a sardonic smirk.

Your chest tightens painfully at the words, the weight of what she’s said settling over you like a heavy fog. If no one’s ever asked for her version of the story, if no one’s cared enough to hear the truth… then everything you’ve heard—the whispers, the rumors, the stories—might not be true. Or at least, not entirely.

Agatha’s gaze flickers back to you, piercing and unreadable, as if she can sense where your thoughts are heading. 

“I know what they say.” she continues, her voice quieter now, colder. “Some of it’s lies, some of it’s not.”

Your breath catches, her words hanging between you like a challenge, daring you to press further. And you do. 

“But if not all of it’s true…” you ask, your voice trembling slightly, “… then why?”

You hesitate, the question twisting in your chest before it finally escapes. “Why do you let them believe those things about you, hmm?”

That stops her cold.

Her gaze locks on you, her expression sharp and unyielding, but there’s something flickering beneath the surface—something fragile and dangerous and far too human.

For a moment, you swear you see something shatter behind the mask she wears so flawlessly. And when she finally speaks, her whispered answer tears through the silence like thunder.

“Because the truth is too awful.”

The words hang in the air, and for a moment, all you can do is stare at her. The rawness in her voice, the vulnerability she so desperately tries to hide, steals the breath from your lungs.

But you don’t back down. Not now.

“Maybe.” you say quietly, your voice softening but steady. “But I don’t think it’s worse than the lies, than the stories people tell.”

Her head tilts slightly, her eyes narrowing as she studies you. The tension in her shoulders doesn’t ease, but there’s something in her gaze—a flicker of hesitation, of consideration.

“You’re persistent.” she mutters, the edge returning to her voice, though it’s quieter now.

“And you’re exhausting.” you reply, trying to keep your tone casual despite the knot in your chest tightening with every passing second. “But since it looks like we’re stuck together—and you’re literally in my bed—you might as well tell me.”

You know the truth, though: you’re not really stuck together. Agatha could leave anytime she wanted—she’s clever, resourceful, and probably already thought of four different ways to slip out unnoticed, if she needed or wanted to.

But you also suspect that getting Agatha Harkness to open up requires more than simple patience. She needs to feel cornered—not with malice, but with intent. She has to know that someone is paying attention, that someone cares enough to ask, and that walking away won’t make the questions disappear. So you hold her gaze, refusing to let the moment slip away.

Agatha exhales sharply, the sound laced with frustration as she rubs a hand over her face. For a long, agonizing moment, you think she might retreat entirely. But then her hand falls, and she looks at you again.

And just like that, the walls begin to crack.

[kingofthering]

november-december 2024

(With a little delay because of you-know-what but here we go. Big thank you to all the authors who used their time in 2024 to produce things that made me have a good time, you're the best.)

ao3

rosquez

you look like someone I remember by @vanillow

I'm of the opinion that you can rarely go wrong with a time travel fic (and the options are endless) and of course Maddie didn't disappoint with that one. For a fic that's like, 50% Explicit, it sure still managed to give me feelings.

postscript by @kingofthecotas

Sometimes all you need is something soft and sweet and very domestic.

Lex Ferenda by @tartquez

I know I technically already recced the Bicameral series last time but we got a bunch of beautiful additions since then, so. Go binge it all is my advice.

learning to fly by @moonshynecybin

Go tell Callie that this is great and that we all need the rest 🫶 One good argument to read this? The enigma that Valentino is but in a good way, not a mean way (for once). And never fucked pre divorce Rosquez insane concept, come on.

#FF0000 by @le-chevalier-au-lion

First of all, the title of this fic is brilliant. Second of all, jealous Valentino in this context is a thing of beauty. Valentino's sensations (and how his feelings translate in his body) were so beautifully described and the vibe in this made me feel like I was with them at the club, ready to cut the tension emanating from Valentino's body with scissors.

the flight of a one-winger dove by @vanillow

Soulmates AU. Dialogue that just hit like that. Another Maddie masterpiece, if you will.

the laughter, the plunge by @yekoc

Fun fact : my reblog of the tumblr post of this fic was the last post I was able to reblog before my account had to take a forced holiday. But what matters here is how this fic made me feel : proud of Marc, hot, with a squeezed heart at the end (in a good way).

dovquez

here and now, undaunted by @le-chevalier-au-lion

It's Dovquez and it's soft and domestic and the banter works so well and is very them. 10/10.

nearly, nearly, nearly by @le-chevalier-au-lion

!!! This had me deceased. I was right there with them all along and the tension is so delicious.

others

the greatest thing we've lost (santi/marc) by @le-chevalier-au-lion

You know when you have to pause every 2 sentences to process everything being written because it's a lot but in a good way? Yeah.

Coterie (casey/dovi) by @tartquez

That moment when you fall in love with a side pairing even more than the main pairing of a universe (me with Casey & Dovi in Bicameral). It's just, they work so well together and I adore being in Casey's head in this and his internal monologue is interesting and the dialogues between Casey & Dovi always make me wanna scream. And they're obviously hot together but that's a detail at this point.

somewhat so outlandish (pecco/enea) by @vanillow

Swear to god the writers of this fandom turn me into a real empath because you can't imagine how much I was feeling for Pecco by the end of this. The dialogue is, as usual, chef's kiss.

these are the games of weekend (santi/vale) by @lestelledreams

Underexploited pairing as evidenced by Elle. Young Vale is always a delight and this works beautifully.

cannot dream of returning to dust (marcnaia) by @le-chevalier-au-lion

My tags on the tumblr post said "#‘oh’ in italics#like!!!!#‘They’re both very good at miserable. In opposite directions.´ !!!!#oh so much more" so, I will leave you with that.

get quiet (casey/vale) by @vanillow

I feel like I could enjoy any fic involving Casey right now but also, this was a very needed and mandatory fic after Casey's ranch visit. Their dialogue in this, the scenes on the porch, the way Valentino is written, the progression of their physical proximity, yes baby.

tumblr

rosquez

time travel au by @tartquez

black widow marc + agent vale by @tartquez

lies by @astronicht

eternal sunshine of the spotless mind au thoughts by @moonshynecybin

gladiator marc by @vanillow

on vale re: marc's diplopia by @yekoc

dovquez

I wonder what's it's like to be so beautiful by @lastlatebraker

forehead kiss by @lestelledreams

model marc / designer dovi by @lastlatebraker

[gamerbot-22]

HI. I SAW YR REQUESTS ARE OPEN AND I DESPERATELY NEED CHUBBY READER X KNIVES.

I always thought Kni would be fascinated with a chubby human. they are soft and squishy and kind even when he’s mean to them and thats not something he associates with humans often so ywah.!

if you cant tell I love this guy.

YEAAAAA FUCK YEAH I LIKE WHERE YOUR HEAD’S AT—[checks ur bio]—QUEEN. Oh man, I love doing requests so much, y’all come to me with the fuckin’ sickest ideas. Also thank you for handing me a Nai GIF on a silver plater that’s v helpful of you ✨

Millions Knives/Nai x Sweet Chubby Reader

TW/CWs: Nai is Nai (both /pos and /neg), romance is implied but tbh this could all be read as platonic, written with TriStamp Nai in mind but feel free to slot your favorite version in here if you so choose, the words fat and chubby are used neutrally and interchangeably to describe the reader, Nai has feelings he refuses to unpack, barely proofread but I appreciate spellchecks.

A/N: I was a little stuck on how I wanted to do this but God, once I found that groove it was insane. Like… the physical softness mixing with the emotional softness of the reader? That’s some fun stuff to explore to me, so I really hope you like it!

Likes and Reblogs are always appreciated, Requests are open, and it’s all under the cut!

The dividers in this post were made by @/adornedwithlight ☆

SO let’s get into it, yeah? I’ve seen crews on the SEEDS ship in both versions of the anime and everyone there is fit as hell so like??? Honestly with his hermit lifestyle, I’d say there’s a non-zero chance of you being one of if not the first fat person he’s ever met personally.

I don’t think it changes much of his perception of you at first—humans are humans, regardless of shape—but there is something interesting about how you just... take it? When he talks shit about humanity? Like he calls humanity a parasite, a disease, and instead of shrinking or averting your gaze from him for the rest of the day you ask him if he’s hungry. Him. Hungry. What??

He’s not shy about his confusion. After a couple notable instances of this he straight up just asks why you’re so unbothered by it when every other human he has to deal with has some kind of sore spot about it. Maybe humans didn’t treat you well either, so you agree with him. He understands. Maybe you want to see what happens with a Plant in charge. He thinks you’re insane, and tells you so, but doesn’t otherwise hurt you (not while you’re still useful and… interesting.) Maybe you just think he still deserves to be listened to despite it all. Isn’t it a basic need to be listened to? That reminds him of some people he’d rather not think about. He probably ignores you for a while after that.

But you can’t even let him ignore you! You still come to him, unlike anything he’d ever seen with your soft hands and body, offering warm words and attention despite his clear (surface-level) distaste for whatever it is you have to say.

You know lonely when you see it, and you’re persistent. An unstoppable force meets an immovable object until one day, when he’s feeling especially raw he just breaks. He doesn’t shatter completely, but there’s cracks in his facade when he lets you wrap your arms around his shoulders and give him a squeeze, assuring him that he doesn’t have to return the embrace if he doesn’t want to. And he doesn’t, for the record, he just wants to… sit in it. Your body keeps heat better than his ever could—it’s the one drawback of being a Plant at times—and you’re soft, both around his neck and in his ears as you just stand there, breathing. He can feel your heartbeat and you’re not even a little frightened, even after seeing first hand the kind of terror he puts in the hearts of your fellow humans.

He can’t remember the last time someone hugged him. Probably not since her. It makes him bitter, but at the same time he dares not push you away. Not yet, at least. You’re a human, and to him you’re either insane or stupid to think he’ll spare you at the end of this, but… you’re still useful for now. He’ll keep you and your soft body within arm’s reach, letting you wrap around him so he could feel the warmth of another body. You can stay until he’s certain he can be rid of you.

Whenever that might be.

[sabbathbloodysabbeth]

Pretend just for a second that's me bursting through the walls from pure excitement.

Honestly, so many people are putting in so many great points on this post that I can’t respond to each individually. (I wish I could) If you are a writer that has a lot of anxiety I definitely recommend going through the responses of this post! It might help!

I believe that everyone here has great points and honestly, it's helping me a lot. Though I do kind of want to brush up on an area that I know I've been suffering with as a writer and someone who is disabled. Which is partially why I'm making this post now. (I'm in a constant battle with OCD and my ass is normally being handed to me)

Though there is definitely no "Perfect" word length, I know some (such as myself) have problems with fitting in or working without the cursed idea of having the perfect word count. For me, I find myself unable to post a chapter unless it's over 10k words because in my head that is the perfect length. This thought is false but also true at the same time. Apart of me knows that whatever length the chapter is, is perfect. But the other part (let's call it the word goblin) wants to meet a specific goal that is sometimes unachievable.

I'm chronically ill and this bastard (the goblin) wants me to sit down and write a 10k chapter in one sitting and when I don't, he (they/she/it/gob gob? I'm not on a first name or pronoun basis with this thing) begins to jump around in my skull like that DVD logo that never reaches the corner of the tv.

And that's something I'm struggling with right now. I used to be able to write a chapter (over 10k words) and feel proud of it within two days. Now I can barely make it to 4k words in a week but strangely I find that I'm still just as proud, if not more, of the things I'm writing. Even though sometimes I would love for Gregory House to just appear in front of me and bonk me on the head with his silly flamed cane and cure every little problem I have in my head. (Technically Foreman, the neurologist, would be the one who would have to help me but that's beside the point.) I know that without my silly little demon (Tourette's) and his little minions (other disabilities) that I probably would be stuck in the never-ending cycle of burning myself out.

As I write this, I realize that I've kind of lost the point I was making. What I was trying to say before my thoughts went wild was that if you are someone who can't escape the concept of "perfect" or need it to function (because lets be honest, some of us really need to be told what to do, me and decisions are constantly in a boxing ring dodging each other) just know that if you can't meet those standards its ok. It probably doesn't feel ok in the moment but that feeling won't last forever. You'll get back up whether you do it by yourself or someone manhandles you to your feet and smacks some sense back into you. (Or hugs you, what that someone does depends on the person you are. I'm a stubborn and spiteful little bitch so I need to get "smacked around" by someone to realize I don't have to do everything by myself.)

And as someone who needs to visually see that people really don't care that much about word lengths, I'm going to leave some screenshots below and I highly recommend any struggling writers who have OCD, chronic illnesses or are simply just a perfectionist to read them. And maybe it can help :)

Also sorry for the long post, I've been having these thoughts for days now and kind of wanted to release them into the world. But quick conclusion, THERE IS NO SUCH THING AS PERFECT WHEN IT COMES TO WORD COUNT OR IN WRITING. WRITE WHATEVER YOU WANT. WRITE PORN, WRITE FLUFF, WRITE LITERALLY ANYTHING, THE WORLD IS YOURS BABY (the word baby is not being targeted at you as a person or as a reader but is just a word that sounded like it would fit and I felt that it belonged there you know?)

I'm currently writing and trying to figure out what could be a possible middle ground for chapter lengths and just want some general feedback on what the (heavy on quotation) "perfect" length is. But I kind of want to hear why some of these lengths are better than others, or if you're someone who doesn't pay attention to length but the quality what are some things that normally keep you interested in longer chapters (or even shorter chapters) I have my own opinions as a reader but as a writer I'm very interested in what the 'general' opinion is. (I don't think I'll personally cater to the majority, but I really enjoy conversations that revolve around topics like this and its been a while since Ive had a deep conversation with other readers/writers and wanted to start one if anyone wants to discuss :)

[cressthebest]

me: nobody can possibly tell that i’m american! i write gray as grey and talk about the shit ton of tea i drink. and i go to boarding school! most people don’t think those exist in america!

also me: says “y’all” in every possible post

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

In Regards To Your 2024 Summary:

Holy shit it’s been another year????? The hell?????

Also! Your art style is gorgeous and that being found in 2023 and then refined throughout late 2023 and the entirety of 2024 really shows, as does your growth in panel layouts, perspective, and — as you said — experimentation. If you ever post your animation or video game art I’m looking forward to it.

As cheesy as it sounds, being able to laugh at funny comics and look at all the details of your art really made my 2024 brighter, even when things were hard. Including looking at your older art— it doesn’t need to be new to be enjoyable! I’m glad your art is well loved and it’s a privilege to have been here since the (near) beginning. I hope you take care of yourself in 2025 and beyond!

You and your art bring a lot of people a lot of joy never forget that <3

Thank you so much for keeping up with my art journey throughout these last two years! Two years!!! I am baffled at how that feels both too long and too short!

Admittedly, my art summary didn't manage to capture the fact that I did a lot of comic layouts that I'm really proud of. I also drew more backgrounds and made some very detailed works (*Dungeon Meshi spoilers for these examples*).

The growth is lot more evident when comparing my 'best' comics of 2023 to 2024:

Sometimes the growth is vertical, sometimes it is horizontal - and damn, sometimes it goes out of sight into the Z-plane. But it is always happening!

[icewindandboringhorror]

I occasionally wish to reach out to old friends/acquaintances I haven't spoken to since high school/some other even earlier time in my life, but I have SOOO little social energy even for required tasks (like making dr phone calls or etc), I never have any leftover for extra ones, and it would be very odd to message someone I haven't spoken to in like 5 years out of the blue but then take 4 entire months to respond back lol.. My natural curiosity with nostalgia/collecting details of the past/etc. (literally if I were born a little earlier I would definitely do scrapbooking or something lol) is very strong, but, alas, not strong enough to beat out the Social Issues Demons apparently

[cuteniarose]

Me: *creates an OC*

Me: *heavily implies OC will meet a bad fate*

OC: *meets bad fate*

Me:

(Alternatively, I may have started it, but @katkastrofa enabled me and now I’m losing my mind)

[sheathnknife]

the vampire diaries 8.16 // louise gluck, crossroads

“and damon, like the voiceover tell us, he was worried he would never see stefan again. it was just elena assuring him that there would be peace. that we’ve dealt with this other side of darkness for several seasons, but there’s also light out there and there’s peace, and damon will find it. if you search for it, you will find it. and we wanted to get that last moment to see that [...] damon found it too, and it looked just like his brother.” — kevin williamson

[tricksterlatte]

It always makes me sad whenever stories with hopeful messages or lighthearted moments are sometimes dismissed as unintelligent or weaker than tragedies. Isn't joy and hope what makes a dark journey worthwhile? Not every story needs an unhappy ending to serve as a lesson.

I will forever be a fan of stories that say hey, maybe the world is a rough place, and it will always be this way, but you can make a difference with the people who matter to you. Even if no one else will know, even if no one else will remember, the ones you loved, and who loved you in return, will remember. People who are holding onto you, even at the end of everything else. People who remind you that new beginnings are born from the ashes.

My favorite stories will always end with love, hope, and the sun rising on the horizon after hell and high waters. The world can be so cruel, but we can choose not to be as individuals. Joy is as human as anger and sorrow. Joy is what we reach for when we are at our lowest, whether we realize it or not. We want what was lost back. I love stories where the characters reach the light at the end of the tunnel, emerge on the other side, and are allowed to heal. Even if they’ve done bad things, even if they aren’t perfect, isn’t that true of all of us?

[fluffle-writes]

I wanna. Pick them up in my mouth and shake 'em around like a dog obliterating a squeaky toy