#but it CAN sound a little clunky sometimes.

[bonemeal12]

god I love this alternative dialogue. while I do know the other version by heart ("you'd probably just crush my hand with that killer grip of yours") this comes less with the implications of "oh shit I was just joking I dont wanna hold ur hand" and more with "this is a semi regular occurrence where Sara tricks Joe into letting her crush his hand. "

[physalian]

You don’t have to pay for that fancy worldbuilding program

As mentioned in this post about writing with executive dysfunction, if one of your reasons to keep procrastinating on starting your book is not being able to afford something like World Anvil or Campfire, I’m here to tell you those programs are a luxury, not a necessity: Enter Google Suite (not sponsored but gosh I wish).

MS Office offers more processing power and more fine-tuning, but Office is expensive and only autosaves to OneDrive, and I have a perfectly healthy grudge against OneDrive for failing to sync and losing 19k words of a WIP that I never got back.

Google’s sync has never failed me, and the Google apps (at least for iPhone) aren’t nearly as buggy and clunky as Microsoft’s. So today I’m outlining the system I used for my upcoming fantasy novel with all the helpful pictures and diagrams. Maybe this won’t work for you, maybe you have something else, and that’s okay! I refuse to pay for what I can get legally for free and sometimes Google’s simplicity is to its benefit.

The biggest downside is that you have to manually input and update your data, but as someone who loves organizing and made all these willingly and for fun, I don’t mind.

So. Let’s start with Google Sheets.

The Character Cheat Sheet:

I organized it this way for several reasons:

I can easily see which characters belong to which factions and how many I have named and have to keep up with for each faction

All names are in alphabetical order so when I have to come up with a new name, I can look at my list and pick a letter or a string of sounds I haven’t used as often (and then ignore it and start 8 names with A).

The strikethrough feature lets me keep track of which characters I kill off (yes, I changed it, so this remains spoiler-free)

It’s an easy place to go instead of scrolling up and down an entire manuscript for names I’ve forgotten, with every named character, however minor their role, all in one spot

Also on this page are spare names I’ll see randomly in other media (commercials, movie end credits, etc) and can add easily from my phone before I forget

Also on this page are my summary, my elevator pitch, and important character beats I could otherwise easily mess up, it helps stay consistent

*I also have on here not pictured an age timeline for all my vampires so I keep track of who’s older than who and how well I’ve staggered their ages relative to important events, but it’s made in Photoshop and too much of a pain to censor and add here

On other tabs, I keep track of location names, deities, made-up vocabulary and definitions, and my chapter word count.

The Word Count Guide:

*3/30 Edit to update this chart to its full glory. Column 3 is a cumulative count. Most of what I write breaks 100k and it's fun watching the word count rise until it boils over.

This is the most frustrating to update manually, especially if you don’t have separate docs for each chapter, but it really helps me stay consistent with chapter lengths and the formula for calculating the average and rising totals is super basic.

Not that all your chapters have to be uniform, but if you care about that, this little chart is a fantastic visualizer.

If you have multiple narrators, and this book does, you can also keep track of how many POVs each narrator has, and how spread out they are. I didn’t do that for this book since it’s not an ensemble team and matters less, but I did for my sci-fi WIP, pictured below.

As I was writing that one, I had “scripted” the chapters before going back and writing out all the glorious narrative, and updated the symbols from “scripted” to “finished” accordingly.

I also have a pie chart that I had to make manually on a convoluted iPhone app to color coordinate specifically the way I wanted to easily tell who narrates the most out of the cast, and who needs more representation.

—

Google Docs

Can’t show you much here unfortunately but I’d like to take an aside to talk about my “scene bits” docs.

It’s what it says on the tin, an entire doc all labeled with different heading styles with blurbs for each scene I want to include at some point in the book so I can hop around easily. Whether they make it into the manuscript or not, all practice is good practice and I like to keep old ideas because they might be useful in unsuspecting ways later.

Separate from that, I keep most of my deleted scenes and scene chunks for, again, possible use later in a “deleted scenes” doc, all labeled accordingly.

When I designed my alien language for the sci-fi series, I created a Word doc dictionary and my own "translation" matrix, for easy look-up or word generation whenever I needed it (do y'all want a breakdown for creating foreign languages? It's so fun).

Normally, as with my sci-fi series, I have an entire doc filled with character sheets and important details, I just… didn’t do that for this book. But the point is—you can still make those for free on any word processing software, you don’t need fancy gadgets.

—

I hope this helps anyone struggling! It doesn’t have to be fancy. It doesn’t have to be expensive. Everything I made here, minus the aforementioned timeline and pie chart, was done with basic excel skills and the paint bucket tool. I imagine this can be applicable to games, comics, what have you, it knows no bounds!

Now you have one less excuse to sit down and start writing.

[yanderecrazysie]

Saw this demon slayer fic where the reader dances while they fight, i found it a cool fighting style and it would be rlly nice if u wrote yan hashiras x a reader like that :3

I decided to go back to doing headcanons quickly (as compared to oneshots) so I skipped ahead to the first hcs on the list.

And that sounds really cool! My little sister is a dancer! She does competitions and stuff- she’s absolutely amazing and will be auditioning for a pro studio in a few months! I’m so proud of her. 

Me though? I’m ungraceful as fuck and have a bad knee.

WARNINGS: yandere themes, mostly fluffiness 

Tomioka Giyu

Tomioka’s face gives away none of the amazement he feels watching you fight for the first time.

He wants to get to know you better, but he’s awkward by nature and doesn’t like talking much, so he struggles to do so.

Master Ubuyashiki can tell his little Giyu has a crush, so he often pairs you both up on missions, hoping you’ll give him a chance, not realizing how dark Tomioka’s love really is.

Thankfully, despite his obsessiveness, Tomioka is more of a watcher (and stalker). He would never hurt you.

He just wants to watch you dance until the end of time.

Tokito Muichiro

Tokito is another calm yandere that isn’t easily impressed. But even when seeing your dance moves, he’s not blown away.

However, he does think your dancing is quite pretty and finds himself thinking about it even outside of battle, which is confusing to him.

He can’t figure out why you keep appearing in his dreams and it frustrates him a lot at first.

But then, he’s sitting there under the full moon, watching you twirl and leap as you practice fighting against the butterfly hashira, and he understands.

He’s fallen in love with you.

Rengoku Kyojuro

Rengoku, on the other hand, is very impressed and tells you so!

He’s very vocal about how much he loves your fighting style, and you enjoy showing off for him.

He doesn’t like fighting against you, because he’d much rather sit back and watch instead of try to overpower you. 

You’ve beat him several times in practice, and it only causes his respect (and love) to grow.

Anyone who thinks you’re just a pretty ballerina has another thing coming when you pull out your sword, and he knows that first hand.

He likes watching you so much that he’s asked you to dance for him, and he applauds very loudly and enthusiastically when you’re done.

Tengen Uzui

You’re a flashy person like he is, and he respects that!

Your dance moves are cutting-edge, quite literally, with a spin of hip-hop in with the ballet. It’s a unique style and he loves it!

He invites you on his missions, even if he could easily do it alone, simply because you’re the only human on earth that can match his level of flashiness.

He loves to fight alongside you, trying to make his moves as graceful as yours can be.

He finds himself researching dance more, so he can choreograph his battle moves too.

He feels all warm inside when you compliment his attempts at dancing, even though he’s kind of clunky and awkward at it with his big figure.

Iguru Obanai

Iguru will, of course, tell you that it might not be possible to always dance during a battle.

He also complains that you’re using too much stamina with your moves.

But secretly, he really loves watching, and he’s just very worried about you.

He gives you pointe shoes in your favorite color as a gift, and you wear them with your uniform.

He’s very proud that you like them and blushes when you hug him, telling him that they’re the perfect gift.

Shinazugawa Sanemi

Shinazugawa will never tell you that he thinks your hip-hop dance moves are badass.

But he does. He really, really does.

He sometimes puts you down, implying that being a dancer is weak and stuff like that.

But when you knock him on his butt in sparring practice, that shuts him up pretty quickly.

He finds himself actually competing with you a lot, determined to prove he’s better than some “dancy-pants”. But you always perform better than him.

The two of you are always butting heads, so you’re not paired together very often. But when you are, you don’t end up working well together.

He develops a crush without realizing it and it just ends up making him even angrier.

But the moment he sees you in danger, he’s ripping the demon limb-from-limb.

Himejima Gyomei

The first time you dance, you move him to tears. He’s never seen anyone or anything so beautiful.

You find it funny that your pirouetting can literally make someone cry, but you’re gentle with the tearful hashira, telling him you’re honored he likes your ballet so much.

The two of you end up being friends, with him quietly enjoying your dancing and battle practice.

You end up being on a lot of missions together since, despite the difference in your abilities, you fight well together.

He loves you so deeply and is extremely protective of you, so the others are intimidated away by the gentle giant, leaving him as your only friend

[tinydefector]

Swerve: traditionally, humans gift chocolates and stuffed animals, as a display of hunting prowess and ability to provide, on the fourteenth of February. This is because a deity named saint valentine is said to bless conjux pairs on this day.

-bumpinSUV

Traditions

Swerve x Human reader

Word count; 1k

Warnings: none

Heeeyyyyy Bumpin got some food for you~. Enjoy some clueless and hopeless romantic Swerve becuase I said so.

_______

Swerve stared down at the clunky plastic earth animals and chocolates clutched in his servos, completely befuddled. It had sounded like such a good plan when he came across it! But now, facing his human, uncertainty crept in. He offered an awkward chuckle. "Uh, happy February fourteenth! I know on Earth it's tradition for you guys to, uh, exchange dead animal carcasses and sweets as a romantic gesture. Something about showing you can provide, I think?" 

Rubbing the back of his neck, Swerve hoped he hadn't misunderstood. Or offended them! Primus, why was organic culture so weird? "So, uh, I thought maybe you'd like these gifts. Even though mice probably aren't a big hunting prize for humans." He cringed internally. At how embarrassed he was. "S-so, what do you think? Did I get the tradition right? Or should I just forget the whole—"

They give Swerve a slight look as they cut him off. "Swerve, why would you need to hunt?, plus it's July if my callander is right " They ask while looking at the stuff Swerve had set up, it looked as if he was trying to organise a date for them, it was a rather cute little set up more so than past people they had ever dated before, Their words fall silent as they take in the scene. 

Wincing internally, Swerve fidgeted under their searching gaze. Frag, this was even worse than he'd feared. "Well, ya know, I did some reading that Earth Valentines is about showing you can provide for a mate. And I know I ain't got much to offer organics, but I wanted to try!" He held out the gifts in his massive metal hands, practically trembling. 

"I know it ain't exactly a feast or nothin'. But I saw these toys and thought, maybe they'd pass for some small game? And the chocolate's real! Well, not made of real chocolate, more like synthechoc. But it's what I could get you!" 

Slumping with a sigh, Swerve knew he must look utterly foolish. But they deserved his honesty. "Look, I just wanna show ya I care, okay? Even if I'm lousy at Earth courting."

"My courting..." they go quiet for a moment before starting to giggle which turns into laughter. "Swerve Honey, Valentine's day, is in February. It's a day to spend with loved ones and enjoy each other's company, sometimes trade gifts to special people, which most are fake flowers and sweets" they continue to giggle softly. "What did you think was handsome?" They ask with a smile.

"O-oh." Swerve felt his plating heat as their laughter sank in, truly mortified. He should've just stuck to energon pouring and storytelling, left the Earth traditions well alone! "I, uh, may have misunderstood some cultural exchange files," he admitted bashfully. "Thought it was about proving yourself as a good provider! You know, strong and capable." 

He scuffed his pede sheepishly. "Maybe shoulda just asked you straight out, huh? Instead of all this." Swerve gestured ruefully at the mess of toys and candy. They smile and grab his servos. 

A warm glow flooded his Spark at their smile, though. Maybe he hadn't fragged it up totally. "So, uh, does that mean...you'd still consider spending time with me? We could watch a flick, share some high grade—" He cycled a vent, fans whirring. "I just wanna make you happy, anyhow I can. Without any mouse-hunting required."

They laugh lightly as they move towards him. "Swerve, please it's OK, calm down" they call out while waiting for him to sit down so they can at least touch his faceplate. "Yes you probably should have come to me to ask about it, but now I'm more interested in who told you about Valentine's day." they hum while pressing a kiss to his nasal ridge. 

Swerve's vents stuttered as their lips brushed his plating in a gentle kiss. "W-well, you know how it is - a mech hears stuff in the bar sometimes," he replied shyly, fans whirring as they caressed his face. "I think maybe Rung was telling Rodimus about Earth traditions, and overheard Whirl say something about hunting prowess being important for it." 

He groaned, covering his optics. "Frag, I should've known better than to trust second-hand cultural osmosis from that glitchheads, i justed wanted to do something special for you." Lowering his hand, Swerve gazed down at them hopefully. "Sorry about the mess, forgive my clumsy courting attempt? There's still a whole stash of synthechoc with your designation on it." 

He's still sheepish as they laugh at him, their hand trying to keep it in and not embarrass Swerve more. " Maybe you could, um, give me some proper pointers? About Earth holidays and such? I'd really like to get it right next time." They give him another soft kiss which he melts into.

 "Think we might have to talk about human holidays, and Swerve I don't expect you to have to follow human stuff. You know that right?" They ask softly tracing his face.

Swerve leaned happily into their gentle touch, systems buzzing with joy. "I know, I know. Don't gotta do human things if they don't make sense," he conceded affectionately. 

"It's just..." He vented softly, captured by their smile. "I wanna understand where you come from, y'know? Be able to celebrate the special days that are important to you. Share in your culture."

His fans hitched as their fingers traced the seams of his faceplates. How did they always make him feel so calm yet alive all at once? "So maybe lessons would help this fool bot out, huh?" Swerve ventured shyly. He nuzzled into their hand with a lovesick sigh. "I just want to be able to spend time with you doin things that are important, that's really all I want, sweetspark. To be wherever you are."

 "Alright, how about we set up your hab and watch some vids.?" They inquire with a sly smile on their face.

Swerve perked up, any trace of embarrassment melting away in his eagerness. His engine gave a happy rev, hope blooming in his spark. Clapping his servos together, he bounced on his pedes like an excited sparkling. "Oh frag yes, I'll fire up the holoprojector right away!" 

In an instant he had them swept into his arms, cradling them gently against his chassis as he strode off toward his berth. The gifts were forgotten in his joyful haste. "You're gon' teach me everything, sweetspark! Holidays, customs, what all those weird organic dishes are!" He nuzzled their cheek fondly as he walked.

________

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[thegreatimpersonator]

since y'all seemed to want this.... here's the live notes i took while listening to each song for the first time (bold are thoughts i had during later listens)

fortnight: 

‘i was a functioning alcohol till nobody noticed my new aesthetic’ what the fuck does that even mean…

love the fact she gave post the female collab treatment. don’t wanna hear what he has to say. 

they’re voices sound actually good together? 

some pockets of the melody are catchy

okay i don’t hate this 

ttpd:

her red flags are on fire in this song lol

this seems very half-cooked

also jacks weird mixing continues to plague us all

CHARLIE PUTH???? WHAT THE FUCK WHY HE HERE

tattooed golden retriever??? ……no way

my boy breaks all his favorite toys:

i blinked and it’s half over

this also is like… half cooked and didn’t need to be released tbh

i love the way she sings the second verse tho

down and:

the production does not match the vibe

did tpain produce this

i’m… kinda bored lol

like i have nothing to say this also didn’t need to be released tbh 

this grew on me a lot actually

so long london 

the production is so futuristic? 

oh im obsessed with how she sounds on this one

her talk-singing in the verses is great

honest lyrics without any clunky unnecessary metaphors! a win!!

the fast-paced verses with th slow chorus is really really cool

a favorite so far

daddy i love him

i can barely hear her? the bad mixing continues 

‘growing up precociously sometimes means not growing up at all’ oh yeah WE KNOW

is this…… is this about her dating matty and loving how people hate him… no fucking way she’s this stupid

SHE IS BEING THIS STUPID

‘it’s white noise’ yeah yeah that’s exactly how id describe him  

.... anyway y'all remember when fans really believed the little mermaid theory and this song was supposed to be about how 'joe stole her voice' lmaooo

we will pretend this one doesn't exist!

fresh out the slammer

are we getting another ‘i didn’t cheat technically’ song lol

what is this weird tempo change….

okay kinda catchy

it’s sounds exactly like you are in love at the end….. jack is really out of tricks

florida

‘my friends all smell like weed or little babies’ what the fuck is she even talking about anymore 

i’m sorry but i’m laughing at the phrase ‘fuck me up florida’

again the production sounds so detached from the vocals 

i honestly still have no idea how i feel about this one

guilt as sin

an real instrument?? wow crazy 

okay she’s kinda cute? catchy and fun, love the melody

i love when she goes up at the end of the vocal 

okay…. i don’t mind this one she’s catchy, a little too long and drawn out but cute

who’s afraid of little old me?

what is this production? it’s way too soft to be as threatening as they’re trying for 

why did jack push her vocals back so far when she’s supposed to scream…. that’s ruins the whole thing…. she’s supposed to be screaming and threatening….. not quiet and far away…. hello

this song is trying very hard to be threatening but it’s not... vigilante shit 2.0

‘you wouldn’t last an hour in the asylum they raised me’…………… upper middle-class pennsylvania? 

‘i’m drunk on my own tears isn’t that what they all say, that’ll  sue you if you step on my lawn’ okay bar?

the bridge was good but that’s about it.

i can fix him 

…………… not another matty song oh god

‘i can handle a dangerous man’…… im too stunned to speak this is so embarrassing 

wow taylor really is that girl who like ‘women supporting women’ and then dates/defends a racist bf…. a walking example of white feminism

intersectional feminism found dead.... twice....

loml

okay this is really nice? 

I WAS ACTUALLY ENJOYING THE SONG WHY DID SHE RUIN IT BY SAYING ‘MR STEAL YOUR GIRL’ 💀

if we ignore that one line we're good this is good. im refusing to let that line ruin such a good song

i can do it with a broken heart

‘bitch smile’ why are there so many cringey lyrics on this album lol

what is this song omg why do i kind of like it 

taylor please learn depressed isn’t a synonym for sad 

they recycled the mastermind production 

wait till taylor finds out most of the entire world is sad while they're doing their job and has to pretend they're not

smallest man who ever lived 

oh i think i like this?

‘you said normal girls were boring’ GIRL AND YOU DIDNT IMMEDIATELY GET UP AND LEAVE??? EWWWW??? she's not beating the pick-me allegations

'i just wanna know if rusting my sparking summer was the goal' okay love that line

i like this a lot

the alchemy

no….. no way this is real

i cannot

THE SPORTS METAPHORS WE JOKED SHED DO THAT AND SHE ACTUALLY DID IT OH NO 

touchdown ✅ teams ✅ benches ✅ winning streak ✅ the league ✅

she’s doing…… the worst thing ever this is so laughable 

the corny lyrics are on overload 

‘this time it’s heroine with an e’ didn’t she write folklore? i can’t remember 

that literally was an snl parody of a taylor song

clara bow

love how the guitar sounds… bet money this is an aaron track 

a stevie nicks reference!! a win!!!

i like this one a lot no cringey lyrics yet

nope never mind she name-dropped herself don’t like that

overall really liked it tho

the black dog

i think i like it?? this is kind of what i expected the album to be

okay for once the weird production choices kind of pay off

imgonnagetyouback

kinda catchy? 

she loves a fancy car getting wrecked line

the pre-choruses are the best part 

this would’ve been better without the jack of it all bc he loves a song that doesnt build to anything

this just comes down to personal preference: i don’t like her lighter vocals with jack’s heavy production (ie most of lover lol)

the albatross

a real instrument!!! production that matches taylor’s voice and is well mixed!!! aaron’s arrived!! 

i think it’s solid, has good writing and she sounds great. that's about it.

chloe or sam or…

took me a solid minute to have any semblance of a fuck to know what was going on but okay

okay i love this one

wayyyy more emotive than like… most of the original album

a lot of the 2nd version (or whatever this is lol) are way more emotive, maybe because her voice isnt drenched in reverb so we can actually hear her voice emote better

how did it end

this sounds like an old school adele song? 

i love this one too…. 

her being upset people wanna know what happened but then also feeding it while promoting the album oop 

i love the story of this one it's so refreshing

so high school

THE PRODUCTION is so good ugh aaron never fails 

the man here is a walking red flag girl and the lyrics are ~not it~ but the production is too pretty to hate it

fuck these lyrics are so bad lol

maybe if i disassociate hard enough i can ignore the lyrics and just listen to the production and vibe

give me a karaoke version of this song and we'd be so back

i hate it here

i mentioned disassociation and she made a whole song about it!!!! this one’s mine!!!! 

‘without all the racists’ GIRL HUH

WHAT WAS THE REASON

also... girl don’t act like we don’t know you’re fine with that lololololol

if i had a dime for every time i was liking a song to then have it slapped away because of a bad, out-of-pocket lyric…… 

thank you aimee

this isn’t grabbing my attention 

oh the bridge is interesting 

it’s meh 

i will never be thanking the people that bullied me thanks tho

i look in peoples windows 

what do you mean aaron didn’t produce this??? it’s well-made and has instruments? 

i love this one, again a really interesting and unique concept that's very refreshing to hear at this point when a lot of the songs feel repetitive

the prophecy

aaron guitar!!!! 

she’s nice i like her 

i've really grown to love how she sings this one, the melodies are cool.. however i feel like we've heard the same melody.. like on this exact album... where she upturns at the end of every line...

cassandra 

this seems very…. familiar… idk i feel like we’ve covered this (i mean there are 31 songs we’ve already covered everything lol)

this is such an aaron song, that's a classic 'the national' piano

i like her voice in this one tho, sounds good

peter

oh love i love this

now this? THIS feels the most like a taylor swift song

once again she’s at her best with a simple instrument and emotive simple lyrics

the piano reminds me of champagne problems

the bolter 

i like this! the chorus is so cute

oh i like that ending line a lot!

she’s cute, a little long and drawn out but cute

robin

i haven’t seen anyone talk about this one

welp…. i literally have no feelings toward this one but sounds pretty! 

the manuscript

oh this is soooooooo powerful 

i love this concept 

her ending the album on another introspective album that sums everything up a la dear reader yep yep!!

if you actually read of this ily 💗

[ani-iu]

[𝟑] 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘 𝐆𝐎𝐃 | 𝐀𝐝𝐚𝐦 × 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: annoyances to lovers; forced proximity; mutual pining; developing relationship; religious imagery & symbolism; explicit language; misogyny; Adam being Adam; he falls first and harder; sexual tension; eventual smut; religious guilt; explicit sexual content; clingy Adam; happy ending; light angst; character study; not canon compliant. 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: a gory description of a character's death, stalking, suicidal thoughts.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 6,4k.

// what do you think it takes to get into heaven, little ballerina?

𝐘ou were always told that, after God, you should fear men.

The saying never sat right with you. Why did you have to feel that way about either of them? Wasn’t God supposed to be loving and kind? What is there to fear? And then there was the man. If God didn’t frighten you, why would you feel any different about someone created in His image?

In hindsight, you should have simply listened to what you were told instead of burdening yourself with insignificant whys and hows. Sometimes there is no deeper meaning to the words, only a bitter reality — that man is the most terrifying being out there, and God allows him to be that way.

And as much as you desperately want to forget and move on, that reality keeps coming back to haunt you.

Once your ears pick up the faint yet still persistent erratic beat of drums on the other side of the wall, not even the simple pianissimo notes filling the air with the help of a clunky CD player can drown the noise out. And although it doesn’t seem like the other dancers mind the disturbance too much, to you, it causes more than a few misplaced steps in a carefully crafted routine. 

The percussive sound slowly merges with your heartbeat, simultaneously pounding inside of your ribcage until even the clamorous voices of girls inside the studio become overshadowed by the dulled thudding.

Your body becomes frightened to the point you are unable to move. Just like all those times when you would sit with your back against the front door, motionless, and only the sheer forcefulness of the frantic banging — which always started with a deceptively light knocking — would manage to make your body noticeably recoil.

You never tried hiding somewhere in your home because, as hard to comprehend as it may be, the safest you ever felt was when crouching down behind that door. Knowing where he was and what he was doing made you feel like you were in control of the situation, even if you weren't.

Either way, there was no point in trying to hide from him — he knew you were on the other side. You could feel the perverse and sick pleasure seeping through the cracks with every loud thud that human flesh made as it collided with the door's wood, drawing frightened gasps from you.

You kept thinking about all the acquaintances and faceless passersby you might have offended, leading one of them to take such action against you. You never learnt what you did, because one day it all simply stopped.

But even after one year of complete silence, you still can’t find peace. To everyone around you, your stalker simply disappeared, and you need to move on, but you know it’s not that simple. You are just waiting for the other shoe to drop. It was quiet before the storm.

At present, by the time you stumble into the claustrophobic locker room at the back of the studio, you are hyperventilating. Your uncoordinated walk, unbefitting of a coryphée, causes you to miss the entrance, bump into the left side of the doorway, and then bounce to the opposite side, hitting a small table. The sequence of events leads to an empty glass falling and breaking into shards before your feet.

Just like that, the sharp sound snaps you out of your panic attack, and it’s quiet again — only a faint classical piece, barely audible, provides some sort of background noise to the dimly lit room and your overworked brain.

Like a child enthralled by the first snow, you maintain eye contact with the sharp shards of glass. Indeed, in various sizes and shapes, the shards shimmer on the ground beneath the fluorescents, resembling snowflakes.

Mesmerised, you bend to pick one of the pieces — the biggest one, so perfectly curved and seemingly broken off at a perfect angle, giving the edge a slanted look. It would be easy, so easy to just— fuck!

You loudly gasp and put your finger into your mouth. The blood from the freshly acquired cut coats your taste buds with a sickly sweet metallic flavour, and your stomach churns with disgust for yourself — repulsed by your own inner thoughts.

Stepping back, you bump into the edge of the table again, but this time grab it to stabilise yourself. You couldn't believe that you even possessed such thoughts somewhere within your mind. Sure, you could blame it on the moment of weakness, but it was also no excuse to contemplate hurting yourself!

You needed some fresh air.

Still slightly dazed, you scan your surroundings for the exit door, only now spotting another person in the room with you. The girl’s grey leotard and matching threadbare leg warmers tell you her name even before she can take her head out of her locker. It's surprising that she remained unfazed by all of the commotion that you have caused.

"Rina?" You try, but it doesn’t get her attention. "Hey, Rina! I’m going for a breather!" 

This time, she at the very least reacts, simply giving a thumbs up and going back to whatever she is doing without sparing a single word. She doesn’t even pull her head out of the locker.

That is enough for you as your hands push the heavy back door of the dancing studio, revealing a seedy alleyway — far from the glitz and glam of the imposterous fairytale fantasy that is ballet. But the state of your surroundings matters very little when you lurch over the railing and dry heave. One deep breath after the other, and you almost calm yourself until a voice shakes you to the core.

"Wow, hey, black swan. You okay there?"

An involuntary shiver runs down your spine as you turn your head to the side to look at a raggedy-looking guy crouched down on the bottom steps that lead to the bar next door.

At first, you ignore him. You distract yourself by slicking a few errant strands of hair back into your bun, but when you notice that he is still waiting for an answer, you feel guilty for unwarrantedly giving the stranger a cold shoulder. You know you don't owe him a conversation, but...

"Got a cigarette?" You brush the sleeve of your leotard against your lips and straighten yourself up.

The guy smiles at you and places his half-smoked cigarette between his lips while pulling a pack of Marlboro Reds out of his jacket. Definitely a musician, you silently speculate. Not to mention the pair of drumsticks peeking from the back pocket of his ripped jeans.

He taps the pack and presents you with a stick, which you take. You place it between your lips, and when your eyes flutter towards the stranger, he already has a lighter waiting for you. So, you lean over the railing, jutting your head so he could light it for you. 

You inhale the smoke, and the simple word of gratitude comes out of your mouth like a puff of smoke that follows it, "Thanks. You work here?"

"Heh, yeah. I play the drums for extra cash." He points his thumb behind him at the back door of the bar.

Called it, they all smoke the same brand.

"Thought you looked familiar."

He chuckles at that, and silence falls between you two. There is no need to break it; however, you can't shake the feeling that his silent stare gives you until he clears his throat and tries to restart the conversation again. 

"So, you’re here for the long run, huh?"

"Sorry?"

"Many ballet dancers have brief careers, or at least that’s what I heard! But your clothes look new. My sister wanted to be a ballerina—"

"What little girl doesn’t?" You cut him off, not liking the way the stranger analyses you, but at the same time, you can't help but berate yourself for assuming the worst from him.

"My point is," the brunet says, flicking the cigarette he’s smoking downward a few times to get rid of the excess ash. "That shit is expensive. You come from money, then?"

"Why? You want me to sponsor your shitty band?"

"Ouch," he chuckles, and stubs out his cigarette, having the gall to try and act coy. "It’s not shitty. And don’t you like that sort of music?"

At that moment, his voice grows lower, bordering on sultry at the end, if not for the insinuation his words carry. They stab you deep into your gut like a knife, and his cockiness seems to be twisting the blade to inflict more damage.

Most people, upon first meeting you, guess that because of your profession, your taste in music is just as classy. And even if, at one point in your life, you would have dismissed the man's words as light-hearted, perhaps even slightly flirty teasing, having a stalker changes a person's perspective on many seemingly insignificant things.

The man wasn’t just a familiar face or someone working in an adjacent building that you might have seen a few times in your peripheral vision to somewhat recognise but still view as a stranger. No, the man had been the source of all your suffering for the past three years. Even in the entire year that he was gone, he still didn’t fully leave — the damage he did to your psyche is irreversible, and no amount of punishment will ever be sufficient. 

You hold your breath, trying to remain calm, but standing so close to him is making you lightheaded. How long was he going to play with you?

"So, um, I was wondering—"

You don't wait for him to finish what else he might add once the awkward silence proves too uncomfortable for him — turning around so quickly it makes your head spin and your stomach curl in on itself. 

You need to get away, and you need to do that now. 

He scrambles onto his feet, the movement followed by the gritty sound of gravel and a desperate call of your name, which you didn't give him. The false saccharine tone is gone, in its place, a commanding warning of what he might do to you if you don’t listen.

You tug on the horizontal crossbar on the back door with frantic urgency, but the latch doesn’t budge. The metal is cold and dotted with raindrops from the morning storm. You hear him getting closer, but you don’t dare to turn and look how close he is. Too close. He will always be too close to you, and there is nothing you can do.

Your eyes blur with tears as you finally manage to pull the heavy door open.

"Rina—" 

But as you come face-to-face with her, the fellow ballerina's unblinking eyes cause you to lose your voice mid-speech. The milky whites of those round eyeballs stare back at you with a sick familiarity — as if you had seen something so bleakly empty before.

You can’t blink either. Blinking would mean you could escape those eyes. Blinking would mean you—

That’s when the whiteness blinks back at you, and that’s when your world falls from its axis — all of this is not real. It's not happening right now; it's just a memory. The stalker behind you won’t catch you, and Rina is not your friend but a lifeless stand-in for a real version of her.

You are in Purgatory.

You are dead.

Suddenly, a familiar figure invades the blank canvas that your view has become, pacing back and forth in a complete state of disarray across your line of sight. You didn't even notice when you got back from... whatever that was. 

"Can you fucking behave for one second?! Fuck, I was about to call Sera!"

The sudden loudness of Adam’s voice pierces the staticky ambience of the void, making you jump in your skin. In a blink of an eye, he towers over you, taking you by your upper arms and shaking your pliant body for good measure, as if the action will magically put your scattered thoughts back into place.

"I—"

Patient, the man is not. He doesn't give you a chance to think, not to mention put together a decent sentence.

"What did you fucking read?!" Adam shakes his hand in front of your face impatiently, which only makes you annoyed. "Hey?! Are you there?" 

"Fuck off, Adam! Can you let me digest everything first?!" You smack his hand away, but that’s when he takes your face into his grip, claw-like black fingers digging into your cheeks and pulling your face closer to his. You scrunch up your nose and furrow your eyebrows as you glare the beast in the face.

"Tell. Me. Everything. This is no longer the time to be petty. Forget everything that happened up to this point and speak, or keep acting like a brat, and I will have no choice but to tame you like one."

"The only one who needs to be tamed is you." You mumble back as best you can while having your lips puckered up like a fish from the way Adam squishes your cheeks. He clicks his tongue but lets go of your face, silently praying that you would start talking about things that matter right now. And you do, because Adam is looking uncharacteristically serious enough for you to comply. It's not as if you don't want to know what the hell was with that nightmare sequence of a memory. "I swear I didn't read anything! You gave me the colouring sheet, and the drawing on it triggered my memory. But it was different from other times. I used to just sort of hang around in the background while it all unfolded in front of me like a movie, but this time I was reliving it. I didn't even realise that I was in one. At that moment, I lived through my past like it was the present."

"It wasn’t all that bad, seeing you are still your insufferable self."

"It’s like looking into a mirror, isn’t it?" You hum, however, there is still something bothering you. "But I have to ask, is the Purgatory an entity and not a place? I feel someone watching me in my memories, and I highly doubt it's God."

Adam stays quiet for a moment. You stare at one another in complete silence until he breaks off the eye contact by turning towards the desk and picking up a page from the pile that is now smaller than it was when all of this began — the unread pile — only to shove said thing in your face. "Doesn’t matter. I need you to do one more thing for me."

However, you turn your head away just at the right moment.

"No, I don’t want to."

"It’s not what you want!"

"Leave me alone!"

"Stop being so difficult and do as you are fucking told!"

"You don’t know how it feels, Adam!" You cry out, facing him once again. He doesn't say a word as he silently stands with his hand on his hip — the dreaded document still in his grasp. "Watching yourself suffer and not being able to look away! My life was miserable! I had an active stalker, and I had to move around, leaving friends and family behind, only for him to find me over and over again! I don’t want these memories! I don’t want to remember anymore! I was happily oblivious until I got a taste of curiosity. I see why it killed the cat now."

"Listen—"

"Did I kill myself? I did, didn’t I? That’s why I’m in Purgatory, right?"

"Pull yourself together, woman! If that were the case, you would be in Hell. No questions asked. It must have been something more convoluted." Adam tries to reason with you, and surprisingly, you don't argue with him, but from the way your eyebrows pull towards each other, Adam knows that everything he just said was nothing but empty words to you. "Well? Are you calm now?"

You nod, and Adam raises the page with a memory again to your eye level, which in turn causes you to screech as if blinded by the sun. And here Adam thought he made progress with you.

But something is not right.

"It's empty." You deadpan. 

"You don't say."

"How did this even happen? I thought you were in charge."

"The memory took you along with the ink on the document. It all evaporated in front of my fucking eyes! Only when you started reliving it did the words reappear one by one. If you are not living through it, I can't see anything. All of the remaining pages are like that." The angel gestures towards the piles. "Nothing like this has ever happened before. The Purgatory... it is an entity of its own — a type of archaic angel, and we are inside of it. But it does have a very black and white view on things, and that's why it needs to have someone who can supervise it."

"Look at you, acknowledging my question when it suits you." Your words are directed towards him, but instead of focussing on Adam, you look to the side, as if by some miracle the Purgatory just spawned the most beautiful scenery for your starved gaze to feast on. It's your petty attempt to piss him off some more for not telling you about the Purgatory when you brought up the topic to him. And speaking of the dreaded place, it looks like Purgatory needs someone not only competent but compassionate as well for it to do its job efficiently, and they decided to put Adam in charge of the whole place? He was about to send you downstairs without a second look!

"You should trust the first human a bit less, little ballerina."

By now, you know that the silence, no matter how short-lasting it might be, is like an open invitation for the shades to make themselves known. Their soft, silky, siren-like voices are akin to the ripples formed by a stone skipping across a pond — each undulating circle, bigger than the others before it, mirrors the way their voices grow louder. Sure, you have gotten used to their breathless, nonsensical whispers, but they have never provided commentary for the conversations you have with Adam.

"There’s no point in trying to pass through anymore. You’re already too damaged. Just like us."

Adam is saying something in the background — you can hear his voice but not the words he’s speaking all the while you continue to stare off into space, unblinking.

"You should stay. It’s a better fate than the off chance of falling to Hell."

"...Is that so?"

It looks like you interrupted Adam mid-speech.

"What?"

"The pages... they are that way because I didn't follow the rules, right? It's all my fault." You speak again after a minute of silence, right before Adam has a chance to. That's a surprise, usually, he's quite quick with his responses, so he must agree with you. Coming up with a soothing lie requires more time than speaking the ugly truth. "Then what's even the point? Just leave me here. I’m already a damaged soul. How useful would I be in Heaven, if I even went there in the first place?"

There is an air of despondency around you, and Adam's stomach drops as he searches your face for something. "…Is that what the shades are telling you?"

Your silence is enough of an answer for Adam.

"Come on, where did that sharp tongue of yours go?" He chuckles, but his smile is too weak and doesn’t infect you. "I’m not leaving you here." The angel declares stubbornly. 

"Stupid choice, really."

Adam is about to argue with you when he notices that, although you might be speaking to him, your eyes move to look to the side at something that is not there in the flesh but rather in spirit. Without wasting any time, he grabs your chin and redirects your gaze back towards him. "Eyes on me."

You don't argue with him. "So, how am I even supposed to trigger the memory if the memory page is empty?"

"Okay, let's see. Is there a dominant smell that you would associate with the previous memory?"

Rotting trash… piss… vomit… the herbal stench of alcohol from broken bottles mixing up with sewage water…

"Cigarette smoke?" You question as if Adam would now. However, he blindly takes your suggestion and goes with it, completely trusting your intuition. With a snap of his fingers, Adam summons a lit cigarette, making you panic.

"Wait! I don’t want to go back to that memory! Adam, don’t you dare send me back—!"

Your desperate cries fall on deaf ears as Adam takes a puff and blows the acrid smoke right into your face, causing you to choke on it.

Inhale. 

Exhale.

Inhale.

You exhale the puff of smoke as you lean against the driver’s side door of your car, mentally preparing yourself for the day before driving to the studio. A pack of cigarettes is still in your non-dominant hand as you look at it, deep in thought. That’s all you seem to be doing these days — getting lost in them.

A picture of a single opaque cornea stares back at you from the squished and torn box as you take another drag of your cigarette every few minutes while maintaining eye contact with the warning label. The cigarettes you are smoking were once your father’s favourite — he buys stronger ones now. When you bought your first pack, you got so overwhelmed by the variety that you picked the ones you had seen your dad purchase when you were younger. Years later, you still smoke the same ones. It’s the last thing about you that is consistent.

"I feel like an imposter at everything I do." You flick the butt of the cigarette to the ground and stomp on it before unlocking your car and getting inside. At one time in your life, you lived a walking distance from the ballet studio; now it takes you an hour of driving through the desolate countryside roads to get there.

Is it all worth it? You don't know anymore.

But even if the drive is long and boring, at least you know that nothing can get to you while you’re in your car, and if someone were to follow you, you could quickly get to safety. To you, boredom is good because it's safe, and your boring, metal safety bubble is the highlight of your horrible days.

Until you hear the click of a gun behind you.

You look in the rearview mirror only to see the man you have been trying to outrun this whole time. The reflection of his wild stare as he holds the barrel of the gun pressed into the skin at the back of your neck is like a nightmare you wish to wake up from. You weren’t secure anywhere, not even in your car. What more can he ruin?!

"You finally opened the door."

His voice cements the nightmare as reality, and your face scrunches up as the realisation of your situation's direness throws you into a whirlwind of despair. You don’t swallow down the scream fuelled by unadulterated hysteria anymore. You throw it up, making the small space of your car impossible to be in.

You don’t want to die. But perhaps your only escape from this — the ultimate solution — is death? Maybe it isn't, but in that split second, you seal your fate.

"You got into the wrong car, fucker. You want to kill me?! I will take you with me."

Suddenly, you press on the brakes, causing the man to jerk forward and lose his grip on the gun. Not wasting any precious time, you press down on the gas and force the car to swerve off the road into a guardrail at full force.

"You crazy bitch! Stop!"

The least you can do now is pray to God for your soul to find salvation. You close your eyes and tighten your grip on the steering wheel, feeling at peace despite your fear of pain and the unknown that awaits you. A death by your own hand will never be as painful as the one done by that monster's. You know for sure that he wouldn't grant you the pleasure of eternal rest inside a cold, dark casket. No, he would torture you, and you will not give him that satisfaction.

The next time you open your eyes, everything in your body hurts — no, burns. The way that ice burns. 

You don’t yell, don’t plead for help — the only sound coming out of you is this sickening hissing sound of a punctured lung as your chest moves up and down with every strained breath your body forces you to take in its efforts of clinging to life.

Near you lays the man's body, mangled without recognition, or it looks that way; the vision in your right eye is gone, so it's hard to tell for sure. Inadvertently, you drag your limp arm towards your face, only for your fingers to disappear inside an empty eye socket. That means that the milky eyeball in front of you, covered in gritty pavement crumbs, is your own. You stare at it until your vision blurs, and all you see is white.

You drown in it. In that white… blinding... emptiness.

"You killed someone."

It's impossible not to hear his growing acrimony towards you as he vocalises your sin. Adam’s voice is the epitome of nothing, devoid of its usual obnoxious tone and a barely noticeable rasp, which becomes more prominent when he hasn't spoken in a while and disappears as soon as he clears his throat.

"He was going to kill me! I—I had no choice!" Your hands shake as you put one palm against your mouth in absolute horror of what you just relived, but you also feel the need to defend yourself against the angel. "I didn’t want to die, nor did I want to hurt anyone! Even if that someone was a person that wished harm upon me! I had dreams, I had a future! It just—" you choke back on tears. "At that moment, I felt like that was it."

You wish you didn't have your memories back. Trying to explain yourself to Adam felt so humiliating, as his imposing height forced him to look down on you. You felt unworthy of his presence.

"You—" Adam feels his throat tighten. He isn't upset with you — he is furious at Sera.

As soon as you mentioned feeling like you were being monitored in your memories, Adam knew that it couldn't be Purgatory because it simply doesn't have consciousness. It's a dormant entity that — when it came into existence — was given simple instructions to either condemn or forgive. A certain seraph, on the other hand, not only had the motive but also a multitude of eyes to assist her. Perhaps Sera's curiosity was piqued by Lucifer’s brat’s childish delusions regarding redemption. That would explain why he couldn’t simply send you down like he did with other souls. You weren't special — you were a test subject. Despite being a truly good person who lived a virtuous life, you committed the ultimate sin, which is a direct ticket to Hell. Yes, you killed a terrible, poor excuse of a human being, but you had no right to do so because it's not up to humans to decide who lives or dies.

Sera wanted to see if Adam could judge a soul without bias.

Adam doesn’t believe in second chances. In that regard, he was no better than the archaic Purgatory. But who could blame him for seeing things as absolutes? Adam had a first-row seat to see what second chances amounted to. Eve, a woman who was created specifically for him and a literal second chance at love, betrayed his trust and left him, just like Lilith before her. But now, the normally clean-cut line between sinful black and divine white has become blurred into an uncertain grey, and as Adam looks at your terrified face, he realises that he doesn’t have it in himself to let you fall. 

No, Adam couldn't send you down to hell. Your doe eyes are too bright, and your skin is too fragile and porcelain-like, almost brittle to the touch — it would break the moment you stepped into the Pride Ring. You looked angelic, even as a human. He couldn't even begin to imagine how beautiful you would look with a pair of wings and a halo.

"Adam?" The said angel could practically hear your lips quivering. He didn't realise he had left you there with your thoughts, which were no doubt eating you from inside. "Adam, you must have someone you care about! "Please imagine them in my place, and then pass judgement on me."

Adam does have someone he cares about, and that’s why he is already thinking about his first kill for the next year’s extermination. You can't read his twisted, vengeful mind and interpret his silence as a sentence to eternal damnation.

"Oh," you say, your voice lower than usual. Not even in the afterlife do you have autonomy. You were stupid for trying to fool yourself into believing that you did. "I’m going to—"

"Shut up!"

You stop yourself mid-sentence from his outburst.

His next words are much softer, like hot milk soothing a sore throat. "I won’t let you go there."

However, before Adam can declare his final verdict on your soul's fate, the Purgatory acts according to its own evaluation. The white ground, which had not a speck of other colours on it this whole time, suddenly begins turning red — bleeding from underneath your feet and growing into a big puddle that surrounds you like spilt blood. You feel the heat emanating from it, and then it cracks.

"NO!"

Just as the ground gives in underneath your weight, Adam catches your wrist.

"Adam!"

"You are never going there." He declares, but you don't miss how his voice trembles a bit at the end. You look away from him and down towards there that he’s talking about, but Adam digs his sharp claws into the skin of your wrist, successfully bringing your attention towards the hurting part of your body. "You keep looking at me. I won’t let you even get a glance of that wretched place!"

And then you have the nerve to smile at him, "I think the choice is already made, and you don’t have a say in it." You ease your hand out of his hold. "I’m sorry that we got into that argument. I didn’t mean to. But you did say that my actions here won’t affect my fate, so I guess that doesn’t really matter."

"Don’t you fucking dare release my hand! You hold onto it, bitch, or I will get you something to be sorry for!" Adam tugs your dangling body up by your hand and hugs you tightly to his chest, wrapping his golden wings around you securely like a safety blanket for good measure. His face presses against the top of your head as you hear his voice booming in your ears. "Evaluation has determined that this soul is worthy of Heaven!"

Only when Adam sees the familiar surroundings around the two of you does he allow himself to loosen his grip on your body. Thank God that Purgatory doesn't have any influence on angels, because otherwise, he would have thought that he's dreaming this all up.

"Happy rebirthday, gorgeous. Welcome to Heaven." The greeting is nothing like the one he gave you when you first met in Purgatory.

But when he doesn't get any kind of response, not even a twitch out of you, his fingers gently stroke your cheek, hoping to get some kind of reaction out of you to make sure that he wasn't too late and didn't accidentally bring a shade into Heaven.

You are shaking like a leaf under his touch — terrified, still gripping onto Adam’s robes with white knuckles as if the possibility of falling is still there. As if you can’t feel the white wings sprouting out of your back and don’t see the shimmering, iridescent glow of your halo above your head casting a subtle shine on your hair. Your skin tone is a few shades lighter than it was when you were in Purgatory, but for the most part, you still look more or less very human. Adam is quite certain of that. After all, there is nothing in his way that could hide anything unusual from his eyes.

"I don’t have anything on." You finally tilt your head to look up at the first man with those big, infuriatingly beautiful eyes of yours.

"I have eyes, angel."

A thin layer of golden blush coats your face as you press yourself against Adam in hopes of hiding away. "Don’t look!"

His hands, resting on your naked hips, barely noticeably move up and down your body and supply Adam's starved mind with the most vividly descriptive images that no amount of ogling could ever successfully manage to capture.

"I won’t."

Adam would love to stay like this forever, but Heaven isn't a time capsule like Purgatory is, and although in the afterlife time is meaningless, there is more tedious bureaucracy to be done.

"Do you mind if we take a more scenic route? I doubt you are in any shape to use a portal."

"Walking is fine, but, Adam, I'm naked." You hiss, as if what you just said is the most blasphemous thing Heaven has witnessed. The real sin is that Adam can't enjoy the view.

"I will carry you, no worries."

He could conjure something for you to wear, but Adam doesn’t specialise in dressing up women. He has significantly more experience in undressing women, but that's unnecessary since you're already naked. And what you don't know won't hurt you. You can't be mad at him for not dressing you up if you don't know he can do that with a snap of a finger. But the lack of clothing doesn't seem to bother you too much.

Mesmerised, you peek your head out of Adam's embrace to look all around yourself. Having become accustomed to the stark whiteness of Purgatory, you are overwhelmingly awestruck by all of the pearlescent colours surrounding you. Heaven looks quite futuristic, unlike anything you imagined. Truthfully, you don't know what you expected — perhaps something more traditional-looking, Gothic even. It looks as though everything is made out of vibrant stained glass, from the sharp-looking corners and pointy sky-piercing roofs to the glassy ground. The entire promenade resembles a hall of mirrors at carnivals, easy to get lost in.

The building you two enter is commodious and bears a striking architectural resemblance to a Gothic cathedral, while still maintaining the soft pastel colour scheme of Heaven. The sound of Adam's heavy footsteps travels through space, catching the attention of small animal-like creatures who, you guessed, work here.

Adam carefully lowers you to the ground until your bare feet are flat against the cold marble. His next move is to open up the cocoon he made out of his wings, a decision which you are against until you notice that you are already dressed up in a white linen tunic that reaches your knees and completely hides your arms under its moderately wide sleeves.

While you are busy guessing where the clothes came from and wondering why you haven't felt them on your skin until now, Adam can't help but curse himself out inside his head. He couldn't believe he got jealous of the freaking cherubim getting a chance to see you naked that he took it upon himself to dress you up. But all self-deprecation disappears when you turn to face Adam with an excited smile. For a minute, he fears that you somehow read his thoughts.

"Well, do I look worthy of Heaven?"

"Why don't you see for yourself?" Adam shrugs, grabs you, and twirls you around to face a shiny column. It's the first time you see how you look after becoming an angel, but nothing surprises and excites you more than the wings — soon you are arching your back and twisting your neck just to look back at them.

"I can fly?!"

Before Adam has a chance to respond, the small cherub guides you by hand towards the front desk and offers you a leaflet. "Everything you need to know will be found here! And if you have any questions, don't be afraid to contact our headquarters. That's why we are here!"

"Oh, I thought," you are about to turn towards Adam, but the cherub swiftly seizes your attention once more.

"You’re in Heaven now, which means that you are under the care of our department, dear, not the first man. And after we are done with a few more documents, you will be free to live your afterlife as you please!" The little creature gestures to a desk behind them, and you noticeably shiver at the sight of the paper pile. Not again…

You turn back to Adam, feeling an ache in your chest that is difficult to ignore. You got used to Adam’s presence. As much as he could be an annoyance, he is the reason you are safe here.

"Oh, so... I guess this is goodbye? Will I ever see you again?"

"Hm, I don't know. I’m a busy guy, and you're not the only angel in heaven. You're gonna have to make an appointment if you want to come for a chit-chat." However, based on the way your face falls at his words, Adam’s joke is seemingly not as amusing as he thought it to be. With a sigh, he outstretches his arms, and you move in for a hug without any hesitation. "You are losing your edge, angel. Don't tell me you got attached or something."

You remain silent in response, then, after a few minutes, slowly move back and offer a small wave as a goodbye.

"Bye, Adam."  

I'm a huge fucking hypocrite, Adam thinks to himself as he watches you go.

"Bye, angel."

[kentuckyfriedmegumi]

fanfic writer interview

thank you @uriekukistan for tagging me!

no pressure tags @yearnwormwrites @hijinks-n-lowjinks @fluffy-bacon363 and @philosophiums <33

How many works do you have on AO3?

i have 14 works; 13 are for jjk and 1 is just a writing exercise thing i wrote

Your top 5 stories by kudos/likes:

Itadori Yuji's Totally Foolproof Plan to get Fushiguro Megumi to Fall In Love with Him

Closing the Distance

is it gay if our pinkies are intertwined?

Too Soon?

I Have to Protect You

all of them are jjk itafushi works!! yuji's plan is my first fanfic piece i've ever written!

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

yes!!! i try my best to but lskdjflsd sometimes it gets ahead of me or life gets all wonky. i really do try tho, and most of the time i'm pretty responsive <3

What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

oh for sure it has to be To See You Again. it's an alternate ending to What I'd Give, and i've had ppl argue that that one is sadder, but i feel like (without getting into spoilers) the lack of resolution leaves this one feeling a bit more bleak. i felt bad writing it.

What’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending?

probably yuji's plan, even tho it's an ongoing series. it's only "ongoing" bc of a series of spin-off one-shots that follow the ending, but they are all pretty happy. the series overall has very light angst too, but if not yuji's plan, then perhaps Closing the Distance.

Do you write crossovers?

naur but i have considered writing characters in other universes. idk tho, seems intimidating.

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

not hate in the traditional sense where someone is actively disliking my story or writing, but i do regularly get jumped by my readers for my angsty stuff. i wouldn't call it hate tho.

Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

naur and i probably never will, but i do have little FLIES IN MY EARS that want me to.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

last i checked, naur. but im keeping an eye out bc im willing to throw hands over it ksfdjsdl

Have you ever had a fic translated?

no, but i've had someone ask me if i ever will. i can't do the translating, but it would be cool if one of mine were.

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

YES OMFG!!!! @sunnyyflowerrs and i wrote pinkies together and it was SOOO MUCH FUN!!!! it's crazy like how well our writing styles meshed together, and i really liked working with her. i'm her number 1 fan fr so like this was just a dream to me. i loveee it and it's my third most liked fic!!!! i'd lovee to work with her again, and there are also some other writers that i hope to work with!

What’s your all-time favorite ship?

itafushi literally sucked me into the ao3 rabbit hole like nobody's business. i never read fan fiction ever in my life before june, and then next thing i know i'm writing a multi-chapter fic in august. now i have 13 itfs works and kfm socials on like. every app. crazy how that works.

What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

i don't know if there's one that i don't think i'll ever finish. i hope to try and finish all of my works eventually, i guess the *only* thing that i could really think to put here is just that the yuji's plan one shots are going to keep going til i run out of ideas.

What are your writing strengths?

the kfm trio: angst, miscommunication, and tension. i feel like i really do well with tension, but i've been told that when my angst hits, it hits. also currently have my readers tweaking out in CTD with the miscomm, so we got the holy trinity.

What are your writing weaknesses?

my prose and descriptors are a work in progress. i feel like it can come out sounding clunky and it's really hard to get the flow right. that's what i'm struggling with in skinny dipping, an unpublished wip of mine. the more i work on it, tho, the better it gets.

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

oh goodness, i would be soooo bad at it i fear. the only other language that i know is american sign language ahahaha, so the best that i could do is accurately capture inumaki signing in ASL kajsdfldsk the closest i get is using when i use -chan or -sensei in dialogue, but i don't use it anywhere else.

What’s a fandom/ship you haven’t written for yet but want to?

OH MY GOD I SWEAR I WILL WRITE A SHIGUANG FIC FOR LINK CLICK OMFGGG THE POTENTIAL THERE IS CRAZYYYYY I NEEDDDD TO WRITE IT however, i must pace myself and finish skinny dipping first, and also probably closing the distance before i even try to start writing a new fic, much less for a new fandom. oh also kagehina is slowly creeping up on me the more i watch haikyuu... i can feeeeel it

What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

currently, it's actually Hot Off the Press teehee. it's a fun, low-pressure fic that i can self-indulge in and use my degree for! it's been a ton of fun writing and i really like being able to pull stuff that i learned for this story. also it's just a fun story to write teehee

[a-dumb-sarcastic-bisexual]

Clone wars headcanons that I'm posting just in time for May 4th

Anakin can’t finish a movie or tv show by himself to save his fucking life like something in his brain prevents him from finishing it without someone there to talk about it 

But he’ll try over and over and over again to a point where he will have the first half of the show memorized but still not know how it ends

He needs someone to keep him there and actually pay attention and there’s very few people that actually have the time or determination to do it (Aka Ahsoka) 

Ahsoka and Anakin watching a movie or show together is very different than watching it with the group cause Obi-Wan and Rex need total silence to enjoy a show (they’ve snapped at the duo a couple of times cause they kept asking “Okay so what the kriff does that mean”)

Padme doesn’t mind the talking as much as Rex and Obi-Wan but after a while the constant talking and theorizing and rewinding gets to her as well 

Unfortunately Ahsoka and Anakin need to talk to process media so half the time they just send emotions or questions through their bond to keep everyone happy 

I once saw a post say “do you think Ahsoka remembers how Anakin’s laugh sounded” and that question knocked the wind out of my lungs and made me cry for longer than I’d like to admit  

But it also made me realize that I can’t remember what their laughs sound like cause I don’t think they do so very often which means I get to create new laughs for them 

Anakin’s laugh is a strange and awkward little thing and sometimes people comment that it sounds like it hurts him (because he’s an emo little weirdo who doesn’t like to show he laughs) 

It’s very clunky and sometimes sounds like ill-fitted gears shifting but it’s also weirdly infectious and fills a lot of people with warmth

Ahsoka’s is equally as weird and infectious it’s very animalistic kind of like a fox’s laugh (aka very high-pitched and fucking adorable) she’s very giggly around the people she’s comfortable with 

Anakin would say that Padme’s laugh sounds like a wind chime and that's true for her fake ass senator laugh that’s controlled and most of the time forced 

But her real laugh that she lets out with family is a snorty hiccupy little thing that puts a stupid smile on Anakin’s face 

Obi-Wan’s laugh is breathy sounding sometimes wheezy but otherwise quiet sometimes people will catch him off guard and they get a kinda loud “HA” out of it but that’s the loudest it’ll get 

I know we technically heard Rex’s laugh in the clone wars movie but you can’t tell me this man wouldn’t cackle 

Like fully body doubled over laughter that shakes a damn room Anakin has joked once or twice that Rex has blown out his eardrum which just makes him laugh louder 

There is one person in the whole galaxy that Anakin trusts to fix his prosthetic and that’s Ahsoka 

He didn’t even trust the arm at first which made him take it apart entirely no one asked him questions about how he got the parts to fix it they all just let him fiddle with it because they thought it was his way of coping 

He normally gets pretty twitchy and cagey when people hold his prosthetic (besides Ahsoka obvi) Padme usually gets the best reception and by best reception I mean he doesn’t snatch it out of her hands 

Obi-Wan swears to this day the first time he picked up Anakin’s prosthetic the boy almost dislocated both their shoulders trying to get it back 

The first time Ahsoka fixed his arm was also when Anakin physically couldn’t because he was in too much pain

He talked her through the repair process tho and thanked the universe that he was hyped up on pain meds because he was sure that’s the only reason he was so calm 

Even after he recovered he showed her the proper way to fix the arm and let her take it apart and put it back together a couple of times 

He would never admit it but it is kind of a relief to have someone who can fix it the same way that he does

And everyone else is grateful that it’s kind of given the young togruta something to do when her master is injured because otherwise she’d be restless 

Sometimes when Anakin and Ahsoka want to confuse Obi-Wan they’ll act like he’s their biological father and blame stuff on him and those conversations will go something like this:

“Honestly Soka it’s not your fault you have ADHD” “You’re so right Skyguy the same could be said about you being autistic we both inherited from Obi-Wan”

The first couple of times he didn’t know how to react (because how tf do you react to that) but after a while he would start telling them “You do know we’re not actually related right?”

To which the duo whips out the most overdramatic reactions that entail Ahsoka covering Anakin’s ears and him doing the same to her montrals and they usually take turns to respond with “Master there are younglings present!”

I’m fully convinced that if Tiktok existed in the Star Wars universe Ahsoka would have one and it would be 1. Strangely popular and 2. The weirdest amalgamation of stuff

You’ve got her prank videos (mostly aimed at Anakin), story times (mostly about Anakin Rex and Obi-Wan), get ready with me’s (mostly to hang out with Padme), and her favorite: forcing the boys to dance with her 

The only videos that she has of Obi-Wan dancing are the ones of them dancing at formal events (mostly cause ballroom dancing is the one kind he knows)

Anakin, Rex and the boys are her most frequent victims and my sweet baby angel’s bless their hearts are stiff as goddamn boards

They’ve got a decent rhythm down and they can all pick up routines pretty fast but Ahsoka has had to train them to let loose a little bit 

It obviously took Anakin the longest to loosen up and that process mostly took place in their shared quarters but it also made me think of a hilarious scenario that goes something like this:

Cody was woken up at 3 am by an unexpected message from Obi-Wan well to be specific it was two messages one video and a text titled “Why are they like this”

When he plays the video he sees Anakin and Ahsoka doing some silly little (obviously choreographed) dance in the kitchen as something is baking in the oven (knowing the duo probably cookies)

Cody’s laughter could be heard throughout the barracks that night

When Ahsoka finally gets her hands on that video (because she does get her hands on that video) she edits the clips of her dancing with Obi-Wan and her dancing with Anakin 

With the caption being something cute and lowkey cheezy like “How I dance with my Dad vs how I dance with my brother” which people eat up because it’s fucking adorable 

There are also a couple of videos that she couldn’t post because it’s Rex her and the boys dancing and goofing off as mission lights and alarms go off in the background

[fictionadventurer]

Top five poets?

Gerard Manley Hopkins: The poet who got me back into poetry. His imagery and word-smithing are so impeccable that it sometimes makes me wonder if there are truly any other valid poets.

e.e. cummings: The poet who taught me to love poetry that requires analysis. Analyzing one of his poems for a class opened up poetry to me in a whole new way. The way that man plays with phrasing and structure and condenses so much into so little is endlessly fascinating.

James Whitcomb Riley: "When the Frost Is On the Punkin" was the first poem I ever found and loved on my own. To this day, I still like his folksy, straightforward style and impeccable sense of rhythm.

J.R.R. Tolkien and G.K. Chesterton: I didn't want to take up two entries with these two, so they share one. The more of Tolkien's poetry I read, the more I think he's vastly underrated as a poet--his sense of sound and rhythm is divine. And Chesterton can get a bit clunky at times, but when his poems work, they're as good as it gets--his imagery and rhythm and rhyme are phenomenal.

Sara Teasdale: Her poems tend to catch my attention when I run across them lately. They're nothing flashy, but I like her straightforward simplicity.

[lemmylemons]

Random, useless Tekken headcanons, this time not at 6 am, but still, part 2.

• Xiaoyu and Jin cuddle obviously, but he's very awkward and clunky about it, and she's SOOO clingy (he doesn't care at all, he loves her so much).

• Kazuya had a childhood blanket that he's hidden away somewhere. He had it as a baby and after Kazumi died, it was his clutch. Until he got older and Heihachi tried to make him throw it out, so he lied and kept it very hidden - and eventually, as a 50 year old, he had it tucked away, safely somewhere, and sometimes brought it out in his giant shoe room, just to have some privacy and a little support with it. (I know it sounds weird, but I love giving my comfort characters as much comfort as possible 😭)

• Adding onto childhood endeavors with my favs, I think Jun used to crochet and knit all the time as a child, to pass the time :(. But when she started going out into the forest more, greeting the animals, she was knitting for them!! She would make scarves or little blankets and cuddle up with them all, and I still think she does. She and Kazuya go out into the hills or forest and she knits or crochets, while he tries to be gentle with the animals, and that's their downtime...

• Bruce Irvin and Anna Williams are the only 2 people Kazuya considers friends, and even then, he doesn't like that term, he considers them 'close acquaintances'... He's been out to restaurants and bars with them many times before. He and Anna Williams have a platonic relationship - even if it seems she's flirting with him all the time, I believe that she is his best friend and it's the like joking flirting kind of thing.

• Feeding off of that one, Tekken 2: Jun and Anna were besties!!! They met and would gossip and go shopping, and I hope Anna returns in 8 so I can see my girls together again.

• Bruce Irvin's bisexual with a heavy male lean. I love him, please ALSO come back to 8...

• Lee and Lars practically took Jin under their wing, but I believe Jin lives primarily with Lee - and Lee loves to baby his 'most excellent nephew' a bit. Not like baby-baby, Jin's a grown man, but give him a little comfort. Like if Jin's having an off day (which I think happens a lot, just thinking about how he is with the Mishima side, or him thinking about Jun and missing her). Lee sits him down, makes him tea or a meal and just holds him or sits with him for company... (I LOVE UNCLE LEE HEADCANONS.)

• This is more of an interpretation, but still a headcanon: I think Reina's relation to the Hachijo clan, is that she's a distant cousin of Kazuya. Because Kazuya is technically a part of that clan, as he's Kazumi's kid. So I think maybe one of her siblings had a baby before Heihachi killed them, and he took Reina in... Good to know he doesn't kill infants but will throw a barely past toddler off a cliff 🤔

• Steve Fox isn't trying to get Nina to be his mom, which is what I see a lot of, it's hard to explain... It's him trying to redeem her as a person, not a mom. But I do think he cares deeply for Nina...

• Adding onto that, Anna found out she was his aunt and took him shopping because she felt bad...

• Jin used to sleep on Jun's floor as a teenager. Like she'd be asleep, and he'd come in with his blankets and pillows, throw them on the ground and sleep in there, just to feel his mama's presence.

• Kazuya and Lee obviously treated one another as rivals growing up, but I think they had a trustful bond as teenagers. Like, if one had a secret that would either get them killed or they could NEVER spill around Heihachi, the other would keep it for eternity. They HATED one another, but they were both trying to survive the same threat.

• Lars takes time every morning to style each and every point in his hair. Like the Mishimas got crazy hair, but I know damn well they STYLE it like that. As proven by Heihachi having his down in Tekken 8 -

• ADDING ONTO THAT: THEIR HAIR IS LIKE THAT BECAUSE OF THEIR WEIRD POWERS OF ELECTRICITY. They style it like that because it always finds a way to stick up...

• Paul Phoenix is only that stupid because he was hit on the head so many times. Not saying he was a genius before, but he's got some bad brain damage. Like he's not super stupid, he's just... Got some troubles.

• Bryan Fury has a super, mega crush on Dragunov, nothing can change my mind. 'Deeply admires', okay bud...

• Dragunov's favorite color is hot pink, that's why he collects the hot pink army vehicles. Love a Barbie kinda guy. I also believe Dragunov wears lipstick and eyeliner, there is no way his lips are naturally almost black...

[mymegumi]

SEASONALLY YOURS ෆ KAMO CHOSO

⠀ warnings: potentially ooc!choso (i dont rlly write for him:()

choso doesn’t really enjoy the winter.

he hates wearing big clunky shoes, and his doc martins don’t have any sort of grip to resist the icy streets when he has to walk places. sometimes, snow gets in his shoes and then he has to deal with terminally wet feet—of which the wrinkly little toe pads sketch him out and make him feel like he has to dry off as soon as possible. the snow melts in his hair and that means any sort of hairstyle has to be de facto shoved underneath a beanie. plus his ears get cold and he hates when his ears get cold.

there’s a few perks, like driving around and looking at christmas lights, and the late night first snow walks he loves taking—everything is so serene and untouched by humanity it makes his chest ache with the peacefulness.

he feels as though the winter cold seeps into his bones, chilling him to his core until he can’t seem to get warm. he could be standing in front of a fire and still the winter’s winds would find a way to him. he hates it. he hates being cold.

he supposes winter isn’t so bad because he met you one wintery night.

he’d been taking a slow first snow walk when he happened upon you. you were in the middle of the street, splayed on your back and making snow angels. you had your eyes closed and you just seemed so at ease, so in tune with the falling snow that he thought he had imagined you. the sound of the snow crunching underneath his feet had made you open your eyes lethargically, as if there was anything else you’d rather be doing.

you had smiled at him, all teeth and gums and sugary sweet happiness that he had instinctively smiled back. motioning to the space beside you, he had laid down and made his very first snow angle. he hadn’t worried about his hair until after you pointed at it and giggled over the way it was skewing wildly. watching you laugh, he had blurted out that he wanted to see you again and the shy smile that spilled across your face was worth all the embarrassment in the world.

and, he thinks, maybe winter is so bad but, spring isn’t any better to him.

the wintery snows melt into warm soggy rains and he hates tracking mud through the house. it’s a pain to clean every day, and he just wishes the raining would stop because his hair is always soaked when he goes anywhere, perpetually cursed to have bad hair. the spring storms are more tame than the summer ones, but he dreads the feeling of ice cold rain stinging through his clothes. the pollen is getting worse, too, and his allergies act up in such a way that his nose is constantly stuffed and it feels as though he’ll never breathe normally again.

the budding cherry blossoms and tiny, fragile blooms of flowers make him feel hopeful. hopeful for the future and brighter days and sunnier skies.

he supposes that one shining day is better than the rest in spring, as a year after you’d been together with choso, you’d moved in together.

he’s never lived with anyone but his brothers, and itadori—but he was a brother for lack of a better word. so he’s scared that his unusual oddities are going to be jarring and spook you like a shy stray cat.

but the first night he splays out on the couch, legs sprawled over the back of the couch and head draped over the seating area, he is delightfully surprised when you copy his motions. you complain that you’re getting lightheaded and end up back in a normal seated position, but lean down and press a kiss to his lips and tell him to be careful. he blames the red cheeks on the blood rush to his head. in the morning, you tease him for his snoring and he blames the spring pollen.

choso supposes he has a good memory to hold onto spring.

the days turn longer, the night hours slowly slipping away to daylight and choso finds himself restless.

choso despises summer for taking away the lonely nights. he finds solace in the dark, shadowy places he can tuck himself into when he feels as if the world is looking at him too long.

he closes the curtains tight, and cuts out the sunlight when he can. he sweats through his shirts and there’s a level of frizz happening to his hair that he thinks is just innately criminal and wants to absolutely obliterate the sun and the humidity and the stupid warm summer rains that make him uncomfortable in his own skin. he showers daily, and still it feels like the grime of the day sits on his skin and he has to scrub and scrub and scrub just to feel even slightly clean. the first time you catch him rubbing his skin raw, you hold him in the shower as tears fall down his cheeks like the shower’s water down his back.

after his showers, you always press a kiss to his forehead and hold him close, gently braiding his hair so it’s out of his face and so it’s wavy by the time it dries. ‘you look so handsome when it’s this way,’ you had said once, and he’d never done his hair any other way since. occasionally he’ll style them in his usual two buns to keep his sweating hair from sticking to his neck, but sometimes he lets his hair down at home in the air conditioning and revels in the way you tease and curl it around your fingers.

choso wishes the summer nights were cooler, so he could press against you and fake complain that you’re sticking your cold feet in between his thighs. secretly, the feeling of being needed is more important than the split-second shock of cold.

and when the days begin to bleed into fall, he thinks those are his favorite days. he hates to be cliché or even close to mainstream, but fall is truly his favorite.

there’s a feeling of satisfaction in his chest when he can go out in just jeans and a hoodie, hand wrapped tightly around yours because your hands get so cold in the fall and you refuse to wear gloves. he loves the feeling of interlacing your fingers together and kissing the back of your hand, lips cool to the touch. choso is admittedly greedy for the feeling of you, the feeling of your skin against his and the cool breeze of your laugh against his neck and the smile you always, always have when you kiss him. choso has never known being greedy in this way.

the bright green summer leaves begin to brown and he curls into the reading nook with something new—a thriller, a murder mystery, a slightly above-averagely horny book, anything he can get his hands on.

fall is, objectively, his favorite.

the weather is ideal, somewhere between cold enough to pile on blanket after blanket at night and warm enough that he doesn’t feel as if he’ll turn into an ice sculpture in the foreseeable future. the landscape is so picturesque he feels as if looking at the mountains punches the air out of his lungs. he’s living in a painting and all he can do is awe and gawk and sputter about the unreal scenery he’s surrounded by.

he also loves fall because you love fall. it’s easy to love what you love because everything you enjoy is seamlessly a part of what makes you, you.

truthfully, he might like fall the most, but every season is good enough for him because he has you in all of them. as long as your by his side, he’d weather a million blizzards, sneeze as many times as he had to in spring pollen, and sweat through every shirt he owned. his love and devotion is soft and quiet but it’s always there. he will always be there for you.

[forzafinally]

I am getting this off my chest once and we're not talking about this again. In my personal opinion it is a mediocre album by her standards. Firstly it's too long. More songs does not equal a better album. Sometimes some songs deserve to be left on the cutting floor for a reason. After a time the songs start blending together because sonically they sound very similar.

Secondly the lyrics. They're clunky in a lot of places I'm sorry. The annoying part for me is that she's capable of writing better songs!! Folklore showed that. Red showed it. I don't understand why she's backsliding like this.

Okay also this is probably not applicable for everyone but personally I do Not appreciate the way the fandom just bullied Joe Alwyn and are now coming up with all these takes about how the album is actually not about her relationship but about her experiences™️. Where was this energy 6 months back? And I'm sorry, but I can't find it in myself to be sympathetic towards a multi-millionaire who can definitely afford to go to therapy and get the help she needs while selling out stadiums on her world tour.

Lastly, the thing that disappointed me the most was that the whole album cycle was marketed as a more mature folklore but it turned out to be something that Red era Taylor would have probably written and rejected. I guess the main reason I'm so disappointed is because she is definitely capable of doing better!! She has done it before!!

Overall maybe she needs less yes men and more people to say that hey maybe this isn't the best direction to go album wise. (Don't come at me with the Braun controversy because there are two ends of being extreme and both are equally harmful).

Again. I'm not saying it's all bad. I think it could have been a wonderful album if she'd cut it down to 12-14 songs, polished up the lyrics and shaken up the production a bit. Songs like my boy only breaks his favorite toys, loml, who's afraid of little old me and I can do this with a broken heart definitely show that the potential is still there. All I'm saying is that it's definitely not her best work.

[piecesofreeses]

We've Got You

Nick ignores his mental health in favor of staying on top of work. When his involuntary age regression catches up with him, Matt and Chris are there. 

Told in 3rd person limited (like most of my stories) where the reader has access to Nick’s thoughts, but not Matt or Chris’s.

DISCLAIMER:

This is an age regression fanfic! Age regression is a completely nonsexual coping skill and it is represented appropriately and correctly as it relates to my life. Regression can be positive in many circumstances, but not all. If you are struggling with your mental health or involuntary age regression, talking to a professional is always the best choice.

Hate will not be tolerated, nor will it be entertained. I will not give you my attention; your comment will just be deleted! Please don’t waste your time, just take your bullshit somewhere else!

One more note:

This is NOT incestual, nor is it sexual in any manner. The comfort Nick receives during and after his panic attack is purely loving, familial support. Yes! They cuddle! Yes! They hold Nick and rub his back! Yes! They share a bed for the night! No! None of that makes this “weird!” 

TWs: Panic attack, descriptions of the physical sensation of a panic attack, avoiding regression, swearing, lighthearted arguing, guilt for enjoying a pacifier

Okay on to the story!

Nick always tries to be the quick witted, loud, strong oldest brother. With the triplets spending so much time in LA just the three of them, more now than ever they have to keep each other in line. And yes, that means Nick has to take care of his brothers even when he doesn’t want to. 

Matt may be their transportation as the only brother with a license, but Nick still feels like he’s mothering them half of the time. He’s constantly sticking a hand between his brother's faces both literally and metaphorically. While Nick probably couldn’t love Matt and Chris any more than he does, they’re brothers; it’s impossible for them not to get on his nerves sometimes. 

Currently, the triplets are sitting in a parking lot about ten minutes from their house filming a car video. Nick is tired and has been a bit quieter than usual, leaving his quips and comebacks to a minimum, just listening to Matt and Chris rant. 

Suddenly, of-fucking-course, the two are arguing again. It’s something stupid about the song that’s playing in the background— no wait— it’s about Matt’s phone? Nick isn’t really sure, he’s just exhausted. It’s not the other boys fault; they can disagree and get at each other throats all they want in the car videos. Nick knows the fans love it, but in that moment he’s just so goddamn overwhelmed.

Nick tries to open his mouth to tell his brothers to shut the fuck up, but no sound comes out. He feels a bit like he’s sinking into the backseat, totally isolated from the argument in the front. Nick knows he’s fine, so why does he want to cry? Why can’t he get his words to come out?

A tear escapes and slips down his cheek. He tries to wipe it away but his arm feels so heavy and his fingers feel so clunky and they’re not moving the way he needs them to. Why is everything so hard?

Without even meaning to, Nick lets a little whine slip past his lips. Even though he hates asking for help, he’s sure he needs Matt and Chris. If nothing else, they need to turn off the camera, but apparently the fighting in the front seat is too loud, because the boys give no indication of hearing him. 

Oh no, Nick realizes as his mind gets even fuzzier, I’m slipping.

Nick knows he regresses if stress gets to him too much– his brothers know too, but God, it hasn’t happened in months.

He’s usually pretty good about preventing it by being gentle with himself, but it’s just been so fucking stressful this month. The end of the podcast just ended up being a lot of work and he didn’t have time to cater to his mental health the way he has to to make sure he never slips. 

This is the result, I guess, Nick thinks. Because he refused to show himself some goddamn love when he was big, his brain was forcing him to regress. And he didn’t get to pick when. 

“Matt?” The oldest choked out.

Still no response. Nick felt like he was sinking into his brain as everything started to feel eerily quiet, like his brother’s voices were coming from underwater. 

Maybe I’m the one underwater, he thinks as the whole world begins to appear muted in color. My sensory processing just conked out, didn’t it.

“Chris? Help,” Nick tried again, but it came out even quieter than the previous attempt. Despite his every effort, Nick felt his eyes well up. 

Why won’t they stop arguing? I need help! I need help and I don’t know how to get it! Someone please help me. Matt? Chris? Please help me.

It’s all far too much, so he closes his eyes and fights against his heavy limbs, eventually able to pick up his hands to cover his ears. He feels himself shaking gently and the first of his tears begin to flow down his cheeks. Apparently, Nick hasn’t breathed in a while, because suddenly he feels himself gasp involuntary. Fighting the sudden rush of air, his throat catches on nothing and he coughs out, forcing more tears to spill. 

Nick’s forearms are covering his cheeks from the way he's trying to protect his ears, and he feels them wet from how hard he's begun to cry. He convulses in a sob and finally, a loud enough sound comes out.

“Nick?!” He hears Matt yell. “Something’s wrong, Chris! Turn that shit off!”

They’re coming. They’re gonna help. Please hurry, though.

“Okay, okay I am. Go get in the back with him!” Chris’s response comes, quieter.

He doesn't even hear the door open, but suddenly Matt’s arms are around him. He’s wracked by sobs as his body relaxes into Matt’s chest.

It’s all okay. I’m okay. They’ll make it okay. 

Matt’s arms are rubbing Nick’s back as he shakes and he can feel how his tears have wet the shoulder of his t-shirt. A moment later, he feels the seat underneath them move like another body has sat down, and then he hears Chris’s voice. 

“It’s okay, Nick. We’ve got you,” Chris says gently. As Matt keeps touching him comfortingly, Chris keeps talking. 

“The camera is off and we can delete all the footage later. I’m so sorry we didn’t notice what was happening earlier. Matt and I are gonna help, okay? You’re gonna be fine.”

“Chris,” Matt whispers, “Take him? I want to get us home.”

“‘Course,” Chris says. Nick whines and holds onto Matt, clearly comfortable where he is, but the boys are still able to switch who he’s sitting onto fairly easily. He's stopped crying and looks up at Chris as he pulls him into his lap. Chris is sitting properly in the left seat with Nick on his lap, back leaned against the door and head on Chris’s shoulder. It's probably illegal, but with the boy no longer crying, they won’t be taking any risks. 

As Matt gets out of the back and back into the driver’s seat, Chris haphazardly wraps the seatbelt over the two of them. Nick pulls his knees up and burrows his head into his brother's shoulder. Quietly, he pulls a thumb into his mouth before looking up at Chris as if waiting to be told off. He waits, half expecting to be called gross, even though he knows his brothers don't find his regression gross.

“Oh, you’re small, Nicky. How old are you?” Chris asks with nothing but love in his voice. Nick doesn't respond, just closing his eyes and sinking into the comfort.

“He’s small?” Matt asks from the front. “How old did he say?”

“Didn’t respond. I’d guess one by the thumb and how he was crying earlier,” Chris responds, petting Nick's hair and trying to make sure he doesn't slip out of his lap on the drive home. 

Matt sighs, “Okay, we’re only a minute away from home. What do you think we do when we get there? It’s been a long time since I’ve seen him regress.”

“Well first get his pacifier, I don’t want his fingers in his mouth and longer than they have to be, but I’m pretty sure he’ll cry if I try to take them out without a replacement. Next… uhh… I don’t think he’s going to be chill with me letting go of him unless I'm literally putting him into your arms, but he seems exhausted. I’d say we all get in your bed and try to get him to go to bed? It’s late for all of us, especially for the baby,” Chris says, looking down at Nick and laughing quietly as they pull into the driveway.

“Alright, I’m going to come and help you stand up with him so you can carry him in. He’s not going to walk himself, is he?” Matt replies, looking back at the little boy curled into Chris with his thumb in his mouth. 

“No way.” Chris says, reaching to unbuckle them. Matt steps out of the car and opens the door for Nick and Chris. 

Sounding confused, Matt asks, “How are we going to make this work?”

“You just take him? I don't think I can stand up with him in my lap even with your help,” Chris suggests. Matt slots his arms under Nick’s knees and picks him up bridal style. Luckily, there is minimal protest from the little, just a whine and some still watery eyes. With Nick out of his lap, Chris climbs out of the car, shuts the door, locks it and runs up ahead of his brothers to unlock and open their door. 

Now that they are standing, Matt carries Nick with ease. Up the steps of their porch and into the house, the lack of strain on Matt’s face makes it appear as if Nick really is a baby. Chris smiles with the thought as he follows the two inside and closes the door behind them. 

“I’ll find his paci. Get in bed?” Chris calls out as he tosses the car keys on the kitchen table. 

“Got it,” comes Matt’s reply. Chris has no idea where the little’s paci might be, but it’s pretty important that he finds it, so he starts by tearing out the couch cushions to see if it's tucked underneath one of them. With no luck, he heads up to Nick’s room and strips his bed, checking if it might be in there. Unfortunately, the stupid blue thing is still nowhere to be found. 

Nick can hear Chris tearing his room apart looking for his pacifier as Matt carries him upstairs. 

He’s never gonna find it.

Too small to tell Matt where it is, he just tugs on his sleeve and looks down the hall to his room.

Fortunately, Matt gets the message. “Want to go help Chrissy?” Matt says and turns toward the sound of the rummaging. As they walk into the room, Chris looks at the boys defeated. 

“I can’t find it,” he sighs. 

“Losat,” comes Nick’s small voice. 

Oh no, are they going to think that means I lost it? No no, that’s supposed to be “closet.”

“In the closet?” Matt and Chris respond in unison, walking into the closet and digging through the junk on his closet floor. 

Oh thank God. 

Matt sets Nick down, leaning his back against the closet wall so he can move his shoes. Underneath, he finds a small shoebox covered in stickers. How promising. Opening it up, Matt discovers the pacifier and a couple small toys. 

“Bingo, Chris! It's right here,” Matt exclaims.

“Why’d you hide it away like this, sweet pea?” Chris asks the little boy, scooping him up like a koala. Nick doesn't respond other than a whine and rests his chin on Chris’s shoulder, facing the opposite direction. 

The boys walk out of the closet, Matt with a pacifier in hand and Chris with a Nick in… arms.

“I need to wash this off,” Matt says and walks into the bathroom. 

“Okay, bring it to us when you're done,” Chris says and hikes Nick up so his legs can wrap around his waist. Nick has one arm wrapped around Chris’s shoulder and neck and the other bent so his thumb can slip back into his mouth. “You ready for bed, honey?” Chris whispers into his ear as he leans over the bed, working to gently disconnect Nick from him. Eventually, he separates them, laying Nick down on his back in Matt’s bed. Chris pulls Nick's shoes off, brushes the little’s hair out of his face, kicks off his own Crocs and crawls into bed with Nick. He drags the covers up over them and pulls Nick closer to make space for Matt to lay on the other side of the boy. 

“Okay bub, I’ve got your paci,” comes Matt’s voice. Carefully, he pulls Nick’s hand away from his mouth and replaces it with the blue pacifier, slotting it between his lips. 

That helps. That helps so much. Why am I like this? Why does that help?!

Matt slips under the covers and wraps his arms around the boy. “Nick, honey, I can see you freaking out. It’s okay that you like that. It's not gross, it’s not bad, and Chrissy and I don't mind. We love you bubba.”

“Luv yous too.” 

[unohanadaydreams]

Circle Back (Mayuri x Reader)

Summary:

Mayuri takes you and Nemuri to a museum and he's persnickety the whole time. And then some! Ends with dubious drugging and experimentation because that too is romantic and domestic for Mayuri LMAO.

Notes:

As promised, here is the weird little museum piece I wrote on my sabbatical, typed out so it can be shared. The exhibits are inspired by Gutai because I thought that would be fun and fitting for him.

“One must appreciate an attempt to decipher the complexity of our duties,” a passerby noted to his companions. All of them noble in dress and posture.

Mayuri didn’t wait for them to pass before offering a rebuttal, firmly directed toward you, who watched the wailing in the center of the domed kido barrier with mouth agape.

“One could enclose any number of my labs in some half-rate kido barrier and decipher more than they were previously capable of fathoming,” he sneered.

You tried not to look at the noblemen, their subtle pressure overtaking your peripheral. “Mayuri-sama was the one who bought us tickets.”

“Yes, yes, and any artist must endure their criticisms if they’re of any worth.”

The dome was light blue, half-transparent, and contained a replication of a soul. Some ppor man in a dour three-piece suit, wailing against the gathered reishi as the hole in his chest peeled wider from the struggle for attention.

For help that wouldn’t ever come.

Nemuri stood close to the barrier, yelling right back at the fabrication of anguish. Laughing as the slick floor over took his clunky dress shoes and landed him smooshed against the buzzing wall.

She looked back to you with wide eyes. An eager smile.

“Will it hollowfy if we wait?”

“We need not waste our time,” Mayuri said, wriggling his hand in dramatic demand that Nemuri take it. “That would imply a far greater commitment than these artists wish to engage in.”

He did not offer his hand to you, but did offer an off-kilter stare, complete with neck and head displayed in an unnatural bend until you moved beside him so that you three continued to the next room as one unit.

Truthfully, you were having fun. You enjoyed the displays that overtook each room. A soul trapped between states, hollow yet unable to translate that emptiness to true hollowfication. Ever on the precipice of change, yet ever uncertain in which form he’d be delivered to the beyond. You liked it.

The dramatic wailing and flailing made it better, even.

You were all having fun. Nemuri, most obviously of all.

“I’m going to make something better,” she declared. “Something with more souls and at least one hollowfication.”

You paused before a magnificent wall scroll that had been ripped apart and reformatted to span the wall in its entirety, attempting to puzzle out how it’d been accomplished.

“That sounds interesting, Nemuri-chan.”

“Interesting? You are meant to be feeding her building blocks, not falsehoods.”

Turning from the scroll, you squinted. “You think it’s boring?”

Nemuri stamped her little socked foot against the slick, wooden flooring, “It won’t be boring!”

“Such a display would be undoubtedly boring. You’ve described an average day on Earth for a Shinigami.”

Sensing the oncoming tantrum in the clutch of her chubby fists and increasing flair of her little button nose, you patted Nemuri’s head and coaxed her to look at the scroll with you.

“Let her think on it, Mayuri-sama. She has to start building somewhere. And besides, it’s rare for a Shinigami to be assigned to the world of the living.”

Nemuri turned away from the scroll with a self-righteous pout, “Yeah!”

“Rather, you wish to let her have a sub-par start,” Mayuri drawled. His jaw grinding and eyes roving the scroll in criss-cross pattern, searching for the same answers you had moments before.

“Sometimes it’s best to let things go,” you whispered. “Let her have her way and I’ll give you a big kiss.”

One eye zeroed in on your offer’s accompanying wink. “What a horrid offer. And sloppy terms. I don’t aim to raise some Souskuke Aizen half-wit.”

You gasped far louder than necessary. “Nemuri would get waaay farther than Aizen-taicho. Wouldn’t you, Nemuri-chan?”

Nemuri rose to her tip toes to grab your hand, no longer interested in the scroll now that something more fun to dwell on had appeared.

“I will avoid prison,” she finally agreed.

“See!” You pinched Mayuri’s haori and gave it a tug, holding in laughter as his neck cranked to a true ninety degree angle in response. “She’s just like you, after all. Anything she creates will be interesting once she gets far enough.”

“Ururu nee-chan will help,” Nemuri said. “She knows hollows and is in the world of the living all the time.”

“Collaboration should foster advancement,” Mayuri said, steering you all to the next room, unwilling to tell you a scrap of information regarding the scroll. “That girl can hardly manage a sentence, let alone a thesis.”

“We could always ask Urahara-san for help, then.”

“Nemuri agreeding while flitting about the repurposed rubble that formed a massive—yet miniature—replication of the Seireitei and the closest surrounding Rukongai that could manage to fit within the room.

“I have mastered many things worse than death,” Mayuri groused. You overlooked the cobbled together Research and Development building that came to his knee. “That man cannot be trusted with any part of Nemuri’s developing sense of self. He would lead her down a path of indulgences. And soulless commercialism entirely unsuited for more than a shallow glance.”

You hummed, focusing on taking a video of Mayuri and Nemuri wandering the room.

His painted face was fully zoomed upon, fuzzy and out of focused, then perfectly clear as you adjusted to watch his expression with care.

“So you’ll be supplying a first-rate kido barrier instead of us having to outsource it sounds like?”

“You should simply admit your desperation and beg properly,” Mayuri said, face pointed toward the lens despite the sour expression, arms flung wide and fingers splayed in careful precision, as though fans.

The others in the room suddenly had their fill of the display or at the very least, began to give a wide berth.

Tossing your phone to Nemuri made him deflate a little. But only a little. And Nemuri padded around the room with a determination to document every inch of the faux Seireitei.

Emboldened by the other bodies draining from the room you stuck a finger between Mayuri’s open teeth, preparing for him to peel away and monologue a bit more.

Instead, he bit down incrementally, until the pain was enough for you to suck in a sharp breath.

“Will I be begging in this fate worse than death you’re planning for me?”

He bit harder, expression carefully blank, before smacking you away, your finger scraping against the pressure of his teeth as you reclaimed it.

You popped the bleeding finger into your mouth, laving your tongue against the sting as Mayuri watched with a lobotomized look.

“Kiss it better,” you demanded, the room empty for all but you, Mayuri, and Nemuri.

In an instance, his face reclaimed its animation. Its familiar sneer. “You should search out those noblemen,” he said. “Perhaps they can appreciate your vast stupidity that so aligns with theirs.”

Mayuri stalked from the room, then.

And you followed after waiting for Nemuri to finish her documentation. She held your obi as her other hand still fiddled with the soul phone.

“We’re not stupid,” she said. “Our hollow will be very advanced. And not boring.”

“Very true, Nemuri-chan,” you said with a laugh.

Mayuri’s shoulder blades cracked as he craned his upper body to glare back at you.

And once again wriggled his fingers again, like luring worms, until he caught Nemuri in his left hand. You held a scrap of his haori on his right.

“You have both exhausted my extensive patience,” he began, speaking for the room, almost preening as faces snuck to glance at him. “This exhibit is bloated with withered moral ideation that is souring your scope of what can be brought to life.”

“I wasn’t thinking of morals,” Nemuri said.

“Incorrect,” Mayuri said, surveying the current room with a scowl. “The artist wished you to focus on the suffering and so you did. Instead of disputing me blindly, a true scientist would approach with curiosity.”

“I thought I was right this time, though, Mayuri-sama.”

“And that is what passes for curiosity, is it?”

You watched the other leave the room with more haste than the last as Mayuri continued to lecture, noticing their socks left lasting imprints behind on the compacted dirt of the exhibit.

Nemuri rephrased herself after hopping around to make a fun pattern with her own socks. “What should I have thought, Mayuri-sama?”

You interrupted Mayuri’s incoming admonishment, “How was the artist’s intention translated into Nemuri’s idea?”

Mayuri gave a wide point, his singularly long nail almost scratching your brow, “You are not meant to build for her.”

“How,” Nemuri prompted. “How did I!”

All of you walked over sandal prints that would not lift, prints that were erased bit-by-bit through the pressure of your steps. The ceiling projected, then retracted, bundles of transparent bodies in a timed and endless cycle.

“As I stated; the suffering.” Mayuri came to an understanding of the room and gave an empty laugh. “The linear path of soul to hollow. If you wish to explore true suffering, deny the soul evolution. Ensure the stagnation as the artist has.”

“But I want the evolution,” Nemuri said. “I want them to change!”

Mayuri did scratch your brow as he rounded on Nemuri and you hissed. “Ow.”

“The evolution is the part I like most,” Nemuri continued. “The pain goes away.”

“And then what is left?”

You tugged his haori before Mayuri could say the rest. And reduce Nemuri’s musings to ‘nothing’.

Mayuri was happy enough to swivel away from that and toward another lecture.

“If a hollow can be made naturally, then what shall you do that is deserving of resources? There is more than on phase of evolution. Instead of saying ‘I’ll see how many souls hollowfy under these conditions’, think instead of how the process functions. Think to the conditions that must be introduced to alter those faces. And to enhance their functions.”

His voice rose in fervor and you could not manage to contain your giggling.

“Prolong or end the suffering to what end, Nemuri? Accelerate the evolution for what purpose? A new element must be introduced to the tired, established process if there is to be a tangible benefit at the end of your proposed study. We research and develop for the Gotei 13, after all.”

Face crouched and closed to his progeny, Mayuri leveled his tone to something more reasonable. “Anything less will result in prison, indeed.”

Mayuri’s lecture carried you out of the exhibit and lulled Nemuri into deep thought, her voice contained to her mind for the moment.

The only thing cutting the silence were the chatter of strangers and Nemuri’s muttering into the phone, no doubt recording her thoughts as Mayuri and many of the 12th often did when inspiration struck.

@

“You got your money’s worth of inspiration, huh?”

Mayuri did not shake you away as you held his hand, safe from prying eyes in the maze of labs below Research and Development.

“Yes, quite inspired to wonder why I’ve entrusted you with any part of Nemuri’s education.”

Your thumb hesitated, then quickly smoothed over his painted knuckles before ending the contact and holding his haori instead.

“Hm,” you said with false thought. “Because I’m patient, maybe?”

“Akon is patient. You simply dawdle.”

You blew him a kiss and earned a pointed gaze in turn.

“If I weren’t so loyal to Mayuri-sama, I’d dawdle my way over to the Urahara Shoten.”

“Your attempt to rile me is entirely lacking.”

“Ooooh,” you laughed. “Do I have to start walking there before it works?”

Mayuri scoffed. “There are enough dispersible poisons within your organs that the very attempt would prove pathetic.”

“Well, you’re the one who keeps taking me for granted.”

You stretched and made a show of no longer holding any part of him, moving a bit away, which was impressive considering the tight style of hallway this far down.

“Certainly,” Mayuri said. “Annoyances in life are always guaranteed.”

“Aw. I would never leave you to get bored,” you said. “Unless Urahara-san offered a sizable raise, of course.”

“That man deserves another incompetent fool added to his brimming collection,” Mayuri said. “So do try.”

“But then Nemuri-chan would end up visiting Urahara Shoten quite a bit after all.”

“She would be entirely forbidden.”

“Even if I begged?”

“Even if you managed to beg well for once.”

You fell against a door of some sealed off room that only Mayuri knew the purpose of.

“You seemed to like it well enough to threaten me with another fate worse than death.”

Laughter bubbled up, then choked to an abrupt end and carried into a series of wet coughs that grew into great, wheezing hacks. No matter how vicious you expelled the growing lump within, the coughing brought less and less relief. Or air.

Still you smiled, lips trembling as Mayuri gave you a careful, empty look. His eyes betrayed him, though. Pupils dilating and contracting like the lens of a camera as you hunched over to vomit, tears brimming as whatever poision within began building to its worst.

“I didn’t,” you dry heaved a few times before being able to continue. “I wouldn’t leave.”

His thumb slotted between your teeth as he loomed over you, not minding the mess still smeared on your lips.

You groaned, back spasming in quickening muscle cramps that meandered in waves from your neck to tail bone. In tandem, your stomach did the same.

“Are you not up to the task of begging well as we work, then?”

“Please,” you gagged. Mayuri rose as you collapsed, the door you had leaned upon opening to reveal a sterile, well-lit circle of room.

Mayuri stepped over you and fetched a tall, wheeled tray.

“Quite overused, the word ‘please’, don’t you think?”

“Everything feels wrong,” you moaned.

The pain disorients everything, shrouding Mayuri into a dark cloud looming overhead, lingering yet reticent to your mortal suffering.

In paradox, you hear the smile inflecting his admonishments as something wonderfully bright dazzles your vision, bidding your pupils follow.

“You are quite impatient, after all. We haven’t even begun the experimentation, yet.”

You’re unsure if the cloud grazing your knuckles is done with affection but you’re disappointed when the cool touch dissipates, leaving you to tremble on the ground. Alone.

“You’re leaving?”

The cloud flickered.

“I’m observing.”

“Observe…closer.”

“Too close and you become bereft of the complexities the whole brings.”

You dry heave again and alternate between crawling and collapsing toward him. “Fuck…complexities.”

“Ah,” you heard from somewhere above. “What did I say? A simple kido barrier and this would truly be worth an exhibit.”

[transgenderpolls]

Submission Guidelines/Disclaimers

First, things to keep in mind when you submit:

there is a limit of 12 answers for polls, and on this blog one of those answers will always be 'show results,' to allow for people that the poll doesn't apply to to see without skewing data. so in reality you have a maximum of 11.

there's also an 80-character limit on the options

SO, if you go over those limits, know that I will take it into my own hands to decide which answers to omit and/or how to re-word it to fit the limit.

even otherwise, expect that the wording of your submission may be slightly altered in order to be more inclusive (when it doesn't affect the data), or because i think you missed an option that you probably meant to include, or just to make it sound less clunky. if you have an issue with any changes upon posting, i'm happy to hear you out.

tbh i may also alter it heavily if i cannot imagine for the life of me why your poll is worded/split up the way it is. like, sorry, i truly do not think that whether someone is transmasc or transneutral would affect their ability to take off a binder without taking off their shirt. if i can instantly think of a smarter way to split it up and collect more thorough data i'll do it.

depending on how many submissions i have it could be anywhere from a day to a week before you see it posted.

if your poll is addressing a very small group, don't be surprised or angry when the 'see results' poll is the biggest. that needs to be there to keep data from being skewed by anyone's curiosity.

Base Guidelines For Submitting:

poll must be related to being trans. it doesn't have to be exclusively directed at trans people, but if you want cis people to be allowed to answer, please make that clear in your submission. otherwise i'll default to it being a trans-only poll.

it CAN be directed at a specific type of trans person, such as trans men/women, non-binary people, trans lesbians, trans moc, etc - literally you can address any specific trans group you want, just make sure to say so.

it CAN relate to sex, just try to be tasteful about it.

What would make me NOT post a submission:

if it's an opinion poll about the validity of any particular type of trans person. "validity" is a moot topic and i'm not going to encourage it, and in any case i'd like the focus of this blog to be about recording experiences (real, undeniable, forever in stone) rather than opinions (always changing, meaningless)

if it's too niche and/or would just make a pointless poll. like, you guys, phalloplasty is expensive as fuck. if you wanna know info about it you're better off just finding someone who's had it and talking to them.

if it's something like "trans people: do you like pineapple on pizza?" or some other question that doesn't actually have anything to do with being trans. if you wanna send something like this, make your case for why it's relevant that the poll is directed at trans people.

if it's some other obviously offensive shit, obviously. no racism or whatnot here.

FAQ:

Who counts as trans?/Can I vote on a poll for trans people if I'm nonbinary?

We self-define here, so if you consider yourself trans, you're trans. Non-binary is definitionally under the trans umbrella - though you're not obligated to consider yourself trans if you don't relate to a trans experience.

Why isn't there an option for X?/You missed an option.

Sometimes I may genuinely miss an option, but 9 times out of 10 the lack of the option is either due to the poll limits on tumblr, or because it goes against the point of the poll. For example, if the question begins with "If you're on HRT," then "i'm not on HRT" isn't going to be an option. If the prerequisite of the poll doesn't apply to you, then what you click is "see results." If it's something a little less concrete, polls will always include some kind of "other" option anyway.

Can you make more polls for X type of trans person?

*I* make polls based off what I'm personally curious about. If you're curious about something, submit it!

Why would you post that question that seems to imply that certain gender roles are real and that anyone should ever take them seriously? Or that poll that's asking if people do a bad thing that they shouldn't do?

Because no poll on here ever inherently implies anything. It's a question. Asking "does it make you dysphoric/euphoric to wear the color pink" does not itself PUSH the gender role of pink being for girls, but simply ACKNOWLEDGES the reality that that gender role exists and might affect some people's emotions. Please recognize that not everyone's dysphoria is rational.

And in the case that you see a question where you think it would be horrible if a lot of people answered yes, then consider the fact that the poll's results themselves may prove that most people aren't saying yes, and therefore nothing bad has happened. Consider the MANY different reasons someone may want those results. Maybe someone had an argument with someone and wants to show them what the trans community's opinion largely is.

Please understand what the purposes of polls are. That they gauge a large sample of responses. A poll that's actually inherently offensive or too incendiary to post would be something that outright uses slurs or whose results would only potentially serve to upset people. Not just "what do you think about gender markers on IDs."

Can you get rid of the 'see results' button? Or can you not include it on this particular poll? I only want X people to respond. This poll is ONLY for X people.

If a poll is on this blog, it's for everyone, questioning and simply curious people included. It's also not going to stop curious people from clicking if there's no 'see results' button. It ensures that the data doesn't get skewed, and gathering data is what polls are for. It doesn't hurt you to see a big see results bar. The data is still there. If the bar does wind up obscuring more significant data, that means the poll was addressing too small of a group to begin with. And that's NOT the end of the world. This blog is far from the only place where you can get information about other trans people's experiences.

[pinkrangersarah]

OKAY SO, I just watched Red Shows and the Seven Dwarfs again, and I gotta say, while it's not PERFECT, it's still a damn shame it's not being talked about more. That marketing crew DAMNED this movie and not even the assurances of the cast themselves could undo the damage, but I'm here with the hopes that maybe, just maybe, this movie can get the attention it deserves.

CRITIQUES

Unremarkable villains. Regina is well designed and acted, but she's given very little to do until the end. She also has virtually no relationship with Snow White, despite being her step mother. We also have Prince Average, who is delightfully pathetic, but also doesn't provide much. Not horrible antagonists, but not super fleshed out, either.

The first few minutes are pretty rushed. Snow White getting the shoes and fleeing her step mother, who doesn't recognize her, is almost blink-and-you-miss it. The writing in general is a tad clunky in spots, cheesy even. Nothing horrible, though, it won't ruin the viewing experience.

We're not given too much insight on the characters themselves, particularly the dwarves, the Fearless Seven. I feel like I can let Snow White slide a bit as we all know who Snow White is at her core, but these dwarves are VERY different from any interpretation I've seen. Outside of Merlin, who gets the bulk of the screentime between the seven of them and character development, we know basically nothing about them outside their character traits (i.e., Arthur is strong, Hans loves food and is a good chef, Jack is a priss, and the triplets are geniuses). I'm not saying we need backstory or anything on all of them, but a little bit more substance would be neat.

POSITIVES

SNOW WHITE IS A QUEEN AND I LOVE HER. I love her design. I love that she's happy with herself. SHE'S SO STRONG. SHE CAN BENCH 250. SHE GETS TO SHOW OFF THAT STRENGTH HERE AND THERE. I also love that she's not necessarily a pushover. She's sweet, she's nice, but can bite back sometimes. All in all one of my favorite Snow White interpretations.

THE ANIMATION IS FANTASTIC! It's not DISNEY quality or anything, but it still looks great! The textures are nice; you can see the embroidery on Snow's blouse, Jack's clothes, there's all kinds of nice details like that.

A LOT of thought went into this movie, especially the dwarves even if their characters ended up not being the most fleshed out. Somebody pointed out that the triplets--Pino, Noki, and Kio--sound an awful lot like "Pinocchio". They pilot a giant, wooden puppet that they use to fight, and that puppet has a long nose. They even have Italian accents (which might be slightly over the top, but they don't get a lot of screentime so it's hard for me to say), and Pinocchio is an Italian fairy tale. All of the dwarves have little details like that. They're based off fairytales, obviously (hell the movie takes place on "Fairytale Island"), and a lot of love went into them. Arthur's so Scottish, it's hard to understand him, sometimes. It's pretty funny.

I know you've seen this on other posts talking up this movie and everything, but I'm here to say it again: THIS MOVIE IS NOT BODY SHAMING. IT IS EVERYTHING BUT! As I mentioned above, Snow White loves herself just the way she is; she keeps the shoes on, but it is NOT because she wants to be beautiful. If anything, MERLIN is the one that has to go on the "love yourself" journey.

NITPICKS (not important, just stuff I pick at)

GOD I wish there was more lore. I know, it's fairytales, I don't really need it, but I am a slut for worldbuilding and lore.

The pop songs are lowkey annoying. Not enough to ruin the viewing experience, but enough for me to remember: oh yeah, this movie was meant for a younger audience.

Not all the jokes land. I can forgive it because the rest of it is enjoyable, but most of the jokes that do land are Arthur being incomprehensible at times and Prince Average being his delightfully pathetic self.

To sum it all up, go check this movie out! It's a fun time with good characters, great animation, and a fantastic message. It's available on Peacock, but if you don't want to pay for a subscription then it's available for free (according to Google) on Tubi, Amazon Prime Video, and the Roku Channel.