#but still a for effort amirite

[milomilesmib]

Please consider: Huntlow ghibli hug

These but with Hunter and Willow

Huntlow gives strong Ghibli vibes

[mothpdf]

anyways.

[999-roses]

YOU WANNA BE ALL TEAM BIDEN=ISRAEL VS TEAM TRUMP=RUSSIA RIGHT NOW? RIGHT T HE FUCK NOW?

75 years of occupation and you WANT TO MAKE THIS ABOUT BIDEN VS TRUMP?!?!!!

just say you don't actually pay attention to geopolitics until it becomes able to be twisted and stretched into a duopoly duel card and go

Guess who backs Putin? MAGA.

Our terrorists listen to FOX and regurgitate 'stop the steal'/election denial Russian playbook.

The antisemitism that runs throughout the Right Wing [see: globalists] runs straight to Hamas and Putin.

Putin wants to eliminate Israel, Hamas wants to eliminate Israel. See the pattern?

When US and Israeli democracy is under attack, look to Putin, Hamas, and MAGA as the same hateful team.

[little-luna-llama]

It is time

We made it to Christmas

a shadowvani and custard family fic.

Originally given to the shadowvani server and a few others as a treat.

Vanilla could hear the giggles and light steps before they reached the door and pushed it open just enough to squeeze in. Understandable, yet still snuggled under the covers in a position too comfy to simply move he stayed. He'd made his intent clear last night and he highly doubts he's this tired at a sensible time to be awake.

Luckily Shadow Milk is there to receive their little guest as they clamber up and onto the sheets, and the giggles and laughs are intentionally kept quiet, which Vanilla does appreciate. He grapples little Custard cookie iii playfully and scoops him up into a half cuddle-half tickle hold.

"And what on earth are you doing up?" His tickle interrogation strategy with no real malice loosens just the slightest to let custard have a slight reprieve.

"Haha- it's chris'ma-ha-as."

"Is it? Are you sure? I don't think it is."

"Ye-ha-yes! I wanna open-snrk- presents!!"

That prompts vanilla to open his eyes and look towards the clock, his staff helped clear the image from where he propped it up.

7 am.

Not terrible, in all honestly. He was expecting it to be earlier. Yet he still had Rules and sighed.

"No presents yet." He groaned tiredly. "7.30 was the agreement."

He didn't have to strain to hear their whispers.

"Awh dad please!"

"Oh come on 'nilly, how could you say no to that face?"

Vanilla rolled over, both of them were pouting near identically. He found it more funny than convincing, especially knowing shadow had put custard up to it instead of the other way around.

"No. 30 minutes."

He rolled over and closed his eyes again.

There was no real issue. As Vanilla dozed Shadow Milk simply rolled his eyes with a playful "Humbug-! We tried. Kiddo.", and helped Custard under the quilt.

When said 30 minutes were up and Vanilla woke up properly, he saw the two sat together and playing with projected stars. Custard seemed instantly more interested in what Vanilla sitting up meant and half of the stars flickered out.

"Yes, we can go downstairs now." Vanilla chuckled at the sight.

Despite being a child at Christmas, Custard was actually incredibly well mannered and got out of bed to get Vanilla's staff and hand it over gently....

Then he hopped out of the room at a proper speed.

Vanilla felt hands helping him up to stand and heard shadow milks warm, real laugh.

"Kids amirite?"

Vanilla looked at the former beast and smiled. The mental change had been much grander than the physical one for shadow milk, but he can't help but look at him and just be glad he was here.

His glasses were also a little crooked. So Vanilla used it as an excuse to draw closer and correct them, at which the other took the chance to bring their lips together.

"Kids." He agreed as they walked towards the door. He gave shadows hand a little squeeze. He knew this was a big deal, so many conversations and doubts on the beasts part if he would even get this far. He certainly hadn't been on the nice list at first, but despite it all he kept putting in the effort.

"Well done. You made it."

"Yeah....i did." He breathed. Despite not being as reliant on deceit as he had been, shadow milk didn't let his true feelings come out so easily. His typical demeanor came back a second later.

"Did you have any doubt?" He smirked.

"No. I didnt." Vanilla answered truthfully and openly, watching shadows heart melt through his eyes and being rewarded with another kiss.

"Come on, you gotta stop all this kissy talk or someones going to get impatient." The beast teased, and finally they met Custard downstairs in the sitting room.

Custard asked to be in charge of handing out the presents, and with no objections the older two sat down. Shadow was content in his mind to sit and watch Custard open all his presents first, so he was surprised when custard put a present that certainly hadn't been there the night before on his lap.

It was fairly big he knew custard and Vanilla had gotten him something smaller. The paper was unfamiliar as well, dark blue and shiny with a purple ribbon as opposed to the paper the three had spent an afternoon making themselves a few weeks ago.

The label was addressed to him.

To: Shadow Milk Cookie.

For your hard work.

Signed with a gift box and no name.

"Its not-"

"Its a present from the holidays silly!" Custard smiled, handing Vanilla one labelled the same way, with the third in his lap.

"Like mr eggnog cookie!"

Oh.

He opens it, and swears he won't cry.

There's another box under the paper, but inside that is a carefully made, beautiful doll.

A doll that, with that blonde hair, white dress, little tiara and a golden whisk, looks identical to the witch that made him.

"H-Harmony-" He takes it out and gives it a hug, it's firm enough for him to grip, but soft enough to fit perfectly how he likes it.

"Shes so pretty! Is her name Harmony?" Custard asks, Shadow doesn't trust his words and simply nods.

Vanilla pats his shoulder, a silent question of are you okay?

He nods again, gently setting her in his lap and looking at his family's gifts. Vanilla unwrapped a beautiful coloured glass wind chime that twinkled in the light of the window where he hung it. Custard had some watercolour pencils wrapped in a nice sturdy case painted with rabbits.

Vanilla and Shadow shared a look when custard showed them the rabbits, 2 bigger and 1 smaller, were painted blue, yellow and gold.

Whoever had handled their presents had scarily good taste.

The other presents were next. Custard had a bundle of different art supplies: a hollyberrian sewing kit and some patterns, some cacaonian charcoal and inks, a sketchbook set for said supplies made from the golden cheese kingdom, some models from Strawberry crepe, a few craft books from gingerbrave, Wizard and Strawberry and a cute new winter coat Shadow Milk was proud to say he worked hard on.

Vanilla had a bespoke blouse, a new cacaonian journal Shadow knew Vanilla loved to write in, a familiar golden feather fashioned into a quill(that had a noticeable spice scent), a box of tea blends, a silver hair ornament, and from Shadow Milk a music box that played his favourite song.

Shadow was surprised again when more than 2 presents were his. He gave vanilla a knowing grin when he opened a journal of his own. Custards gift was a glasses chain, hand strung and just the right length when he slipped it on.

"Now you won't forget them." Custard giggled mischievously at the look he must have given the younger.

The third made him laugh- a spicy tea blend he remembers he used to adore wayyyyy back when. Some people could say vanilla softened him up, but Burning Spice? Golden Cheese has him wrapped around her finger. He'll have to have Vanilla try some

Last but not least, there was a silver pen with a matching stand and an undeniable lily scent.

He knew he was going to be seeing everyone at Hollyberry's Holiday Masquerade so he'd have to say thank you then, which warmed his heart. Not forgotten. Still cared about.

Speaking of cared about, Shadow Milk spent the rest of the day with Vanilla and Custard, they walked through the snowy streets and ate dinner together, they curled up under the blankets for an hour or two reading, and walked custard through the snow once more to gingerbraves sleepover. After hugs and goodnights and see you tomorrows were exchange it left only himself and Vanilla walking back home, with the hero drawing noticeably closer and closer and threading their arms together the closer they got.

Maybe he got one more present behind closed doors. Nobody would ever know.

[sirianasims]

The Don Diaries

Dani the Nanny is finally putting her foot down and telling Don to stop with all the reefer madness around his child. Good job, Dani!

Don will just have to make do with amphetamines only for his rage-and-amphetamine-fueled nightly coding.

At least he still has Herbert for emotional support and dust management.

Speak your truth, Gracie's roomie that he once had a threesome with.

Dani the Nanny is right though, and Don realises he needs to make more of an effort to introduce some stability in his life, for both his own and Matteo's sake.

He does a quick 76 laps to burn off most of the amphetamine and calls up his crush, Shayla from the romance festival.

They go out for brunch, pancakes and mimosas, like a real couple. See, Don? You could have a nice, normal life like this. Without all the drugs and strippers.

A normal life. Don has to admit it sounds nice. (Ignore the wall child, please.)

Shayla is clearly into him, and our careful probing has already revealed that she might be willing to try an open relationship, in case he can't control his dick himself.

Still, Don wants to be absolutely sure that Shayla is the one, so a few more dates are in order.

On their second date, Don gives me a fucking heart attack (and possibly disappoints Shayla deeply) by deciding to have a conversation about the weather while kneeling.

This fucking guy, I swear.

For their third date, Don pulls out all the stops and takes Shayla to Mt. Komorebi in the hopes that the hot springs might help him seal the deal and convince her to give him a chance.

After the springs, they cozy up in front of the fire. This is the moment.

Well, so much for that.

Pizza before tech bros, amirite Shayla?

Not even this sharp-dressed gentleman can salvage that disaster, and Don and Shayla agree to just be friends as they travel back to San Myshuno.

Don arrives home to Dani the Nanny who's crying in bed, no reason don't worry about it ok she's fine.

He even manages to spend some quality time with Matteo for once, while Dani prepares for her finals. Team work!

Dani is still the cutest, and Don is still totally oblivious to the way she blushes whenever he's nearby.

After all, he's busy inviting over Chantel, the very generous stripper with the huge bazongas.

This is not at all going to plan.

Bob, this is your final warning. Get this shit back on track or you're sushi!

[defenestrationn]

We all love Cater, amirite?

okay, quick a/n. this does get sad but its has a good ending!

oh and not proof read

Cater couldn't help the small pep in his step as he made his way to the ramshackle dorm his partner resided in. his hands fiddling with two tickets for a full spa day in his pockets. He had already gone through the effort to bribe Grim to hang with ace and deuce. With a deep breath, Cater left the tickets alone and grabbed his phone. Within seconds, he was on magicam. 

The ginger perked up when he saw he did, in fact, have a notification! A notification from Yuu. “Alrighty, when you get here, just walk in. I'm making spicy ramen!” The text made his cheeks heat up as he couldn't help the silly smile that came to his face. After all, this right here was why he loved them so dearly. They cared enough to learn his likes and dislikes, his music taste, his hobbies. They chose and would continue to choose him. Yuu, the ever patient soul they were, took the time to break down his high walls. To worm their way into his head and heart. Cater would never have it any other way.

“Cay–Cay is in the building!!” Cater called out as he closed the dorm's wooden door. “Perfect timing, Babes! I'm in the kitchen!” the boy smiled as he kicked off his shoes and quickly made his way into the kitchen. The smell of spice and rich pork broth filled his nose as he did so. His green eyes scanned for his partner before he saw them setting two mismatched bowls on the table. “Lunch is ready! You told me to make sure I ate before this date. So I made us both food!” they chriped with a beaming smile

Once the pair were done eating, they got ready to leave the campus. Cater bit his lip in an attempt to not ruin the surprise he planned. After all, this was the least he could do for Yuu. not only had they fought 7 overblots in the past year. But they were his partner for the past 6 months. They deserved to be spoiled and taken care of. During their walk. The couple chatted about future date ideas that would both be fun and pretty. 

Upon arrival, Yuu initially kept walking before realizing they had reached their destination. “A spa? .. wait..” Yuu looked over to see the cheeky boy holding up the tickets. “Why wait?” Cater teased as he pressed a kiss to their temple. Then with a dramatic swing of the door, he waves You through with a cheeky grin on his face.

“I told you, I was going to pamper you. It's not my fault you didn't listen.” he teased as he watched you walk in before him. He followed you in before he went to check in with the receptionist. Once he was done, the women behind he desk led you both to the private room. The worker in the room smiled and waved as she introduced herself and explained what would be happening. 

After a few hours of pampering and laughter, the session was finished and the couple went back on their journey back to the dorms. “Am I still good to sleep at ramshackle tonight?” Yuu shot him a blank stare. “That's a joke right? Obviously! What about Riddle? Do you have a plan?”

The devious smirk on his face screamed that he did, in fact, have a plan cooked up.

“Of course I do! I have an ace up my sleeve. Oh, and Ace himself I guess. But he's not part of my plan. Ill just use a Split Card to make it seem like I'm going to my room and in reality, I'll be sneaking back for my little Pookie!”

Once the sun had set and the night air gained a chill, a familiar head of orange hair began up the path past the graveyard. Yuu grinned as they ran to the door to open it. “Quick! Come in!” they whisper yelled, making the ginger bolt inside. Worried his housewarden has noticed his disappearance.

“Damnit! Was he behind me!?” his voice panicked as he peeked out of a window. “Nope. I just missed you. Oh, and this is the day Horton comes over to admire the gargoyles.” They snickered with a smirk.  Cater turned to give the prefect a blank state, that they only returned with mischievous giggling. “Love ya, Babes!”

Cater could have never expected to wake up to the head mage knocking bright and early the next morning. His eyes were wide as he hid a few feet away. “Prefect! Good morning! I came to tell you about an emergency meeting that will be held in one hour! I have already warned the housewardens as well. And be sure to tell your friends, dear Prefect. You too, diamond.” the magicalles student didnt have time to respond before the head mage took of like a bolt into the air

The couple shared a petrified look as cater came out of hiding. “How did he know I was here?? And an emergency meeting?? And he wants us to tell.. Our friends??” the headmaster never made sense to you but even this was a new low. “Cater.. I have a really bad feeling about this.” The boy took a deep breath before he spoke again. “I do too.”

When it was time for the meeting, the prefect stepped into the room, followed closely by the heartslaybul housewarden and his card soldiers. A soft smile came to their lips as they noticed no collar around their boyfriends neck. It was only once everyone had arrived and filled the mirror room that Crowley would explain why they were gathered. “Now, everyone! I have an important announcement! We have officially found a way for Yuu to go home!” 

The prefect looked confused as they looked at the head mage. “Crowley. I told you I wasn't interested in going home. What is this about?” the large crow man only smiled as he opened his arms in a grand gesture. “Why yes you did, my dear Prefect! However, because I am oh so generous! I'm sending you back to your own world! Isn't that amazing!” he cooed as he began to push the smaller human to the dark mirror. His voice recites a spell to activate the portal.

"Cater! CATER!" The boy in question began to sprint to the swirling and glowing mirror. His hand reaching out to grab his partner as they got shoved through the mirror. "CA--" The silence was deafening as Yuus scream for their boyfriend was cut off. His fingers slip past theirs, only to come crashing into the hard surface of the mirror. 

The sound of a gut wrenching scream broke the silence as he fell to the floor.  The room was in immediate uproar as Yuu's friends began to scream insults at the headmaster who had shoved the dear prefect. The prefect who never wanted to leave. The prefect who had carved a home in their hearts and dorms. The prefect that Cater had fallen in love with. Gone.

All of their plans. Their late night conversations. The silly spicy ramen dates. Everything except the memories. Ripped away from him. All his new found hope and motivation. The newfound Happiness. Shattered. Destroyed. The same way his heart was.

Trey came to kneel beside his friend as he rubbed his back. Anger filled the clover but the words refused to leave his lips.  His heart broke further as he watched Grim pick up the prefect's bow off of the ground. The dire beast could only stare at the scrap of fabric as the earth shattering realization hit him. Tears quickly soaked his fur as he looked to cater. His eyes begged for this to not be real. 

Cater could show him no such mercy. They were gone against their will. Their voice screaming his name for help echoed in his head. The once perfect diamond on his cheek had begun to run from his tears. Cater's hands moved slightly,  opening them for Grim. The direbeast ran into the boy's hands as he began to wail. The chaos around them deafen by their joint sobs

The two boys screamed out their anguish and sobs as they held one another. The two people the prefect loved the most. Their sobs were drowned out by the angry screams and the booms of magic being cast.

—-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

But that's not what actually happened. Was it?

Cater woke up with a sobbing scream. Sweat soaked his hair as he desperately tried to push it from his face. The sound of his own pulse was deafening in his panic. Bleary and unadjusted eyes frantically searched the room. However the sound of springs squeaking makes his head snap to the side. 

“Babes.. Are you okay??” the gravely, sleepy voice of his beloved Yuu made another wave of tears such down his face as his hands desperately pulled them close. “You're okay.. You're… here..” his voice as weak as his partner held him tightly. Cater began to babble out his nightmare as his grip only got tighter. “I thought you were gone!” he would repeat between sobs. 

Their hands gently traced hearts and shapes into his back as they spoke so gently. Slowly, with their guidance, Cater began to calm down once again. When his grip loosened, Yuu took the opportunity to wipe his tears. Their hands moved to cup his cheeks when they were finished. “I'm right here cater. I'm not going anywhere. I promise.” they cooed as they placed a kiss on his forehead. “It was just a nightmare, my brilliant diamond.”

[thegildedbee]

Do-Over: May 20 Prompt from @calaisreno

Program Note: Since there are a bunch of these posties, I've also stuck them onto my ao3 site since that's easier than my going back through tumblr later if I end up trying to make them grow up into a real fic :-) You can also find them at the May 2024 Prompts collection, in the company of multitudes of breathtakingly creative ficsters and their fics to read and treasure, organized by @calaisreno -- what a maestro they are, with setting in motion this whole fantabulous outpouring of mayday-mayhem and orchestrating it all month long, amirite? Yes, I am! :-) ........................................................................... “Really? Really? I can’t even open a goddamn email message without getting knocked about and run over and pissed on,” John fumes, trapped in a fight-or-flight reaction that is equal parts fight and equal parts flight, making his head feel like it’s going to explode. He throws his coffee cup against the wall, and his only regret is that the effort does nothing in terms of relieving any of the pressure. “Of course it doesn’t,” he says through clenched teeth.

The last weeks have been an agony. The first weekend in February had ushered in heavy rains and sharp winds, which had him making his way across London while dragging his boots through grimy slush that inevitably trickled its way inside his socks in icy rivulets. He landed on his arse at one point while crossing the road, which annoyed the already angry drivers who leaned on their horns as they skidded around him.

He’d stayed inside for the next four days, until the sun appeared for a brief flirtation with the city before being swallowed up by the charcoal ash-smudged clouds once again.

He knows, obviously, that one month out from Sherlock’s funeral, that it's still early days for being able to have any sort of balance inside, but still, he hadn’t thought that there were bottoms below the bottoms to which he’d already plummeted. But whether he acknowledges it forthrightly or not, part of what is driving his internal fury is the incessant advertising for Valentine’s Day. It makes him want to take his gun and shoot a skull and crossbones into the nearest brick wall.

Staring at the mess of ceramic shards and wild splatters of coffee, he puts his hands on his hips and hangs his head. “You need to get it out, John,” he spits out in a whiny, imitative falsetto. “Say it now, John. Say what you didn’t say.”

There was the huge British Airways billboard, of a blue sky with a white fluffy cloud in the shape of a heart, with a jet and its contrail slicing through it like a cupid’s arrow:

“London to Singapore: This Valentine’s Day, Say it With an Escape Voucher.”

Escape. Right.

There was the Twitter campaign on the Underground, with large mock-ups of sarcastic dating tweets, like:

*finds a soulmate.* *swipes left in hope of finding a hotter soulmate.*

The mass text message from Angelo’s, advertising the Valentine’s Day prix fixe dinner:

“Eat with Your Heart.”

Today, though. Could this be any more ludicrous? It was nothing but a mundane email message, to be sent to the trash in a trice. But.

It was one of those emails, where the writer puts an inspirational quote underneath their signature.

“There are no do-overs, but there are second chances.”

Oh, yes, he was feeling so uplifted, now. So appreciative of the earnest guidance. So motivated to become more self-aware.

" . . . there are second chances."

Like hell there are.

He hears the sound of the door opening, and of his sister bustling into the vestibule, chattering and gesticulating her way toward the kitchen with her usual noise and bluster.

"Hey, Johnny? You home?” she asks, as she rounds the corner, stopping short at the sight of the smoldering vibrations he's giving off. “Oh. There you are. What happened?”

John shakes his head, giving her a sardonic smile. “I don’t know what to tell you, Harry. The mug just jumped right out of my hand and ran into the wall.”

She looks at him sideways, immediately aware from his tone that something is clearly gravely amiss, that the shattered cup is just the tip of something harsher. Although, when wasn’t he finding something amiss? It's been a never-ending rotation of anger, depression, anger, depression, anger, depression. 

“I picked up some groceries," she says, cautiously. "There’s some of that ice cream you like. Also fruit and veg if you’re going to take a stab at fighting off the scurvy you've got coming on.”

John walks into the kitchen, his demeanor collapsing from rage to stoicism. “Hey. Let me help.”

“Sure, thanks, Johnny. Oh, I wanted to ask you for a favor – it’s a bit daft, but I thought I’d just give it a shot."

“Okay.”

“Trina wants to go to a film on Valentine’s Day. Would it be possible for you to watch her two kids for a few hours at her place?”

John stares at her in disbelief, pulling back his neck and peering at her with skepticism.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah," she says, hurriedly. "I see that’s going over real well. Never mind.”

John shakes his head. "Harry, it's just that I have no idea if I can be in charge of someone's kids right now. I imagine I could, but it’s not exactly in my wheelhouse. I mean, safety first, with kids, and I'm not in the best head."

Harry brushes her shoulder against his, trying to lighten the mood. "Are you serious? Can you handle kids? What about living with Sherlock – you said it was like running a day nursery sometimes. And you kept him out of trouble just fine, kept him in one piece -- ”

Her hand flies to her mouth and her eyes go impossibly wide. “Oh no, I’m so sorry, Johnny, oh no, I didn’t think, I just let my mouth run on.” She looks at him standing there, rigid except for a slow inhale, and a scary length of time holding his breath, until he finally begins to let it escape in stingy exhalations. She tries to explain, with, “It’s just, you know, you always said it was like managing a child at times" -- and his expression is really alarming her now -- "oh no, never mind, I will shut up. Right now. I'm so sorry."

John says nothing. He turns his head to the side and looks behind him; looks above him; looks at Harry; looks down at his feet; clenches his hands; unclenches his hands; clenches his hands again; starts to say something; stops; shakes his head; looks at Harry again; rolls his eyes; and throws up his hands.

“That’s it. Harry, this isn't because of the last few moments, it’s just I'm at the end of my rope after a very bad few weeks. Look. I just need to get out of here. I'm going to go away for a few days. I appreciate what you're doing for me, and for being able to be here, but just for now, I need to get away."

“Okay, John," she says, placatingly, contrite. "I’m sorry, I really –” she stops when he holds up his hand.

“Not the issue, Harry. Truly.”

“But where are you going to go? Are you going to be okay?” she says urgently, worried about this sudden turn of events, and what it might mean.

“I don’t know," John says plainly, shrugging his shoulders. "I may just go to the train station and throw a dart at the departures board. But, look, I’m going to grab a few things and then I’ll be off. Best have me out the way for yourself as well.”

Not stopping to double-guess himself or to have to explain himself further, John jogs over to his room and hastily grabs at the first few things he sees that he might need, stuffs them into his rucksack, puts on his heavy coat, and gives Harry a kiss on the forehead. “I’ll let you know where I land.”

"Promise, Johnny?”

“Promise.”

John practically runs out the door, feeling like he's flying apart, and wanting to get outside and to start moving toward something, somewhere, even if it’s just pretend. He loves London, he does. So much, but he's been so many places around the city with Sherlock for so many different reasons, it’s an atlas of emotion that he is always aware of. To be honest, he also doesn’t want to leave London right now, for the same reason; London means Sherlock, and he wants to hold on to as much of him as he can right now.

Fight or flight.

He wonders: should he visit Sherlock's grave? Would that help him shake some of this? No, the gravesite is an ending, and he doesn’t want to be reminded of endings, of feeling like he's being ground into the pavement by a merciless force.

Some place that is a memory of beginnings? Bart’s is out, he says to himself with a harsh chuckle. Not 221B. 

Where then?

He thinks back to those first days, and pulls up his general knowledge of London transport and pleads with it to find him an answer.

Paddington, it says. Paddington? Ah, he knows this. All right, then: Paddington.

He’s going to Cardiff.

........................................................

@calaisreno @totallysilvergirl @friday411 @peanitbear @original-welovethebeekeeper

@helloliriels @a-victorian-girl @keirgreeneyes @starrla89 @naefelldaurk

@topsyturvy-turtely @lisbeth-kk @raina-at @jobooksncoffee @meetinginsamarra

@solarmama-plantsareneat @bluebellofbakerstreet @dragonnan @safedistancefrombeingsmart @jolieblack

@msladysmith @ninasnakie @riversong912 @dapetty

.............................................................................

[lilmightyrabbit]

I'm 7 episodes into Dungeon Meshi because y'all couldn't stop posting about the most aggressively autistic (positive ❤️) man that I've ever laid my scrungly little eyes upon. Who decided the best rep I've ever seen would be a golden retriever man with a special interest that goes so hard you don't even mind it's crossed over into fetish territory? If I said half the shit he's said I would be in special jail, but he's just saying the things?! Yes please, Himbo man, say every thought that comes into your brilliant stupid mind IDC if it's objectively offensive you literally meant it in a nice way. I want to hug him. I want to bite him. And you know what? He'd let me. He'd ask how he tastes. I appreciate that in a man.

Makes me wonder if my own special interest blurting would be appreciated if it helped in life or death situations? Like, we're all chained up and a minotaur is going to gore us unless someone does a really good Karkat impression? That'd be nice.

And even when he's being a badass that's still how I see it. He's so excited to share his knowledge and he's living in his element and I respect that so much. BUT he's a dork. A giant dork. Does the author know what she's created? The perfect neurodivergent man? He's also just the perfect man cause he's stronk AF but his special interest involves twirling swords around and gutting shit so he's like "mlep, 👅 😺 just did a slaughter. Now I can feed my sister's girlfriend, my 29 year old son, and my mentor ❤️ Anyways want help with your hair, Marcille?"

How? And he obviously has flaws too so he's not even a Gary stu? What? He's just so happy to live his dream and when that bites him in the ass it legit hurts?

ALSO ALSO ALSO the quiet autisitc-coded AF way he's grieving his sister and trying to maintain hope is just 👏👏👏👏 and the fact his party knows he has empathy is managing in his own way 👏👏👏👏. Friendship points out the ass. That little scene where he's like lmao guys we wouldn't be eating this if Falin didn't McFrickin die amirite? And they are like...no bub. BUT they treat it like anyone saying something kinda off base. Because they KNOW he doesn't mean it bad AND they respect him enough to make it clear that it was bad. you know? That autistic feeling of wondering when/if you said something offensive? And this is like the healthiest way for a friend to deal with that w/o blindsiding the autistic person?

Maybe it's the fact that I have literally no clue if the author herself is neurodivergent, knows people that are, or did this intentionally - but I really like when creators just stumble into good characterization of autistic people. It's not an effort or an intrusion it's who the character is and it's baked into the story naturally :) feels good man, feels good.

[jinxtheshadow]

so i’m feeling an all time low rn but hey, at least i can still draw old men amirite? it’s low effort but i think it looks half decent in any case (might be the booze talking tho, don’t quote me on that)

…someone please take him away from me…

ps: the gremlin with horns is my oc, in case anyone (no one) was wondering

[kaixserzz]

Loyal Knight 2

ੈ♡˳ Il Dottore x Gn!Reader *ೃ༄

ੈ♡˳ 8.0k words ┊ Fluff + Angst/comfort *ೃ༄

ੈ♡˳ Masterlist | Part 1 *ೃ༄

author's note ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

HI GUYS PART 2!! i accidentally posted part 1 when i haven't finished this LMAOO but it's been like a week since i started this fic SO i just wrote it in one goso :3 no beta this time so i can make my beta reader cry like a bitch, realized that reader is kinda like, maybe yandere? idk they're both obsessed with each other anyways LMAO,, also pls dottore rqs <3... WHY DID IS THIS LONGER THAN I EXPCTED NOOOOOO FUCK!!

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ cw: canon typical violence, basic dottore warnings, injuries, blood, mentions of lots of scars, experiments, and death, dottore and reader r both crazy, obsessiveness/possessiveness from both parties, dottore hits reader ONCE dw it's just to snap reader out of their shit, uhh relationship fights? LMAO idk cant have a relationship w/o errors amirite, cyro vision reader, dark humor cuz... dottore, also kinda suggestive at the end?? nothing happened, just... biting cuz its dottore LMAOO

iv. guilt

Zandik paid little heed to the Archons, celestial beings overseeing Teyvat, and the so-called 'blessings' they bestowed. His interest lay solely in their power, particularly the enigmatic artifact known as the 'Gnosis'. Apart from that, little else piqued his curiosity.

But Zandik held a particular disdain for your Vision above all others. The sight of your Vision alone was enough to sour Zandik's mood, and he preferred if you refrained from using it altogether.

It served as a constant reminder of the day he had made a grave mistake. It wasn't intentional, he hadn't meant for you to get hurt that bad. He hadn't expected it. It wasn't part of his calculations. It was his fault.

Your Vision, which you proudly wielded with joy, became a source of suffocating resentment and guilt for that day. Not that he'll admit that to you.

The sight of blood never bothered Zandik. Not one bit. Acquiring blood samples, blood dripping down his skin from his injuries, and the knowledge of blood pumping throughout his body. Yet when you lay in his arms that day, blood uncontrollably poured from the gash on your side, he couldn't help but feel a sense of dizziness wash over him.

During a routine exploration in one of the ruins you discovered, a dormant Ruin Guard unexpectedly activated and set its sights on Zandik. Despite your years of experience in combat, a ruin guard was still tiered above your capabilities.

But deep down, Zandik couldn't shake off the suspicion that the gods had shown favoritism towards you. In a miraculous turn of events, he was suddenly propelled away from the Ruin Guard's line of sight, shielded by a frigid burst of ice. The Archons had bestowed upon you the power of the Cryo Vision, recognizing your unwavering determination to protect Zandik.

With Zandik's swift actions and your valiant efforts to distract the Ruin Guard, it was eventually deactivated. However, you didn't emerge from the encounter unscathed. The new ability granted to you by your Vision proved to be uncontrollable, you had no idea how to utilize it just yet. The Ruin Guard easily overpowered you, tossing you aside as if you were nothing more than a lifeless ragdoll.

And the moment Zandik ran towards your body, barely breathing with blood soaking your clothes, he knew that he hated your Vision more than anything.

Your body was deathly cold, and Zandik couldn't tell if it was due to your Vision, or if you were already dead.

Amidst the days you spent in slumber, Zandik dedicated himself to your care. His once meticulously organized scrolls and project documentation were discarded and replaced by books on human biology, medicine, and recovery. His focus shifted to gathering various herbs and medical supplies to aid in your healing process.

Your wound was above his medical knowledge, but Zandik adamantly refused to hand you over to those who could provide immediate help. He understood the consequences you both would face if your activities were discovered. Nonetheless, he took it upon himself to do everything he could to aid in your recovery and ensure your well-being.

Zandik couldn't comprehend his own reaction to your injury. He believed it should be trivial for someone as resilient as you. If you were awake, you would scoff at the wound and dismiss it with laughter. But his emotions betrayed him, tightening his chest and filling his mind with doubts. Could he truly heal you? Would you recover completely? When did he start doubting his own abilities? After all, he was a genius, capable of restoring you to your previous state of health. Yet, the uncertainty persisted, tormenting his thoughts and weighing heavily on his heart.

His usual composed demeanor shattered in the presence of your injured form. The sight of you so vulnerable and still, coupled with the weight of his own uncertainty, caused his hands to tremble uncontrollably. Each time he whispered your name, his voice carried a mixture of fear and longing, hoping for any sign of response from you. Countless sleepless nights were spent tirelessly monitoring your vital signs, studying medical techniques, and seeking ways to aid in your recovery. The touch of his fingertips against your skin evoked a cascade of emotions within him, causing his bottom lip to quiver and his eyes to burn with unshed tears. The intensity of his feelings threatened to choke his breath, leaving him grappling with a vulnerability he had never anticipated.

In those moments when Zandik tended to your wounds, his heart clenched with a mixture of concern and fear. The touch of your cold skin sent a shiver down his spine, stirring an unsettling realization within him. Despite his intellect and knowledge, he couldn't help but question if you were still among the living. The fear that you might slip away from him haunted his thoughts, yet he couldn't bring himself to voice this deep-seated worry. Instead, he masked it with a determined focus on finding ways to restore warmth and vitality to your body, desperate to dispel the icy touch that threatened to consume you.

The surge of unfamiliar emotions within Zandik puzzled him. He had never experienced such feelings before, and it unsettled him. This vulnerability, this concern for another's well-being, was entirely new territory for him. It was a revelation that challenged his perception of himself. Zandik realized that he was capable of caring deeply for someone— you, despite his initial reluctance to acknowledge it.

Perhaps the cold has comforted you into a peaceful slumber, but it only reminded him how awful it was to feel your body so cold in comparison to his warmth.

"Hey,"

Your voice brought Zandik back to reality, and his gaze was drawn to your shirtless figure. It had been a month since the incident and a few weeks since you woke up. Standing before a mirror, you examined the new scar that adorned your body. The intensity of his stare was palpable, fixated not only on the scar but also on the Vision hanging from your waist, below the prominent mark.

"If it grosses you out that much, just tell me. No need to stare at it," You jest with faux annoyance in your tone, yet it was only met with silence from him. It was odd for Zandik to act so out of character ever since you've woken up.

The dorm was in disarray, with unwashed dishes, scattered books, and trash strewn about. You reluctantly remarked that you weren't looking forward to cleaning all of it, but to your surprise, Zandik took it upon himself to clean the mess. You expressed your gratitude and told him he didn't have to do it, considering how he had been taking care of you've since you woken up.

But he just told you to lay back on your bed and rest. To not even think about going outside your shared dorm, or lay a single finger on your sword. You were going to rest, and his words were final. Well, you weren't going to argue with that (his cooking was pretty bad though, it almost sent you back into a comatose).

Seeing how unsettled he was when you first opened your eyes, constantly checking on you and ensuring your wound was clean, you knew he was genuinely concerned. It touched your heart to see his care, and you couldn't bear to see him so down.

You took in a deep, confident breath, walked towards him, and smacked his head with your hand. Zandik let out an outraged cry, his glare that you missed so much was immediately on your smiling face. "Now now, don't be so down! I'm okay now!" Taking your sword out of its scabbard, you did a few swings and didn't feel any sort of pain at all. "You brought me back in perfect condition all thanks to your hard work and medicinal expertise! Sure, I may have gotten a scar, and I'm pretty sure you hate my Vision too,"

You blew a gust of cold wind onto his face, covering it with a thin sheet of snow. Zandik was quick to wipe it off, about to yell at you, but was cut off when you let out a lively laugh; one that he missed hearing once more in all those days you were asleep, and put a hand on his shoulder. "Instead of thinking about what happened in the ruins, just think of me! When you get cold, or see ice and snow, just think of me, and how I'll use my vision to protect you!"

Zandik silently wished you obtained the Pyro Vision instead. Then at least, it would've had warmth. The warmth that you had lacked during the days you were asleep, and the warmth that radiated from you whenever you smiled at him.

But you were content with your Cyro Vision, and so he should be too.

With a huff, he pushed your hand off his shoulder. Zandik's voice dripped with cold disdain as he uttered, "Don't be foolish. My actions were solely driven by self-interest. You're nothing more than a valuable asset to me, and I ensured your survival for my own benefit." However, a fleeting glimpse of genuine concern flashed in his eyes, betraying the facade of indifference he desperately clung to.

Your grin only widened, laughing wholeheartedly as you watched him escape, too embarrassed to stay in the same vicinity as you. "There's my Zandik." And you release a breath of relief.

The icy tendrils of his past failure and guilt were momentarily overtaken by memories of you. The sound of your laughter as you pelted him with a massive snowball, your smile when you playfully blow cool air onto his way when he complains it was too hot, and the deadly sheets of ice you conjured to aid in battle.

Somehow, the tingles he felt from your frosted fingertips were better than any warmth fire could bring.

v. realization

But the bitter chill also served as a constant reminder of the emptiness that consumed him when you weren't by his side.

A year had passed since the last he saw you.

Il Dottore remained in the dark about your whereabouts and current status. In the past, whenever you embarked on a mission, you would often find excuses to report back to him, just to have the opportunity to hear his voice, even from miles away. But now, the silence was deafening, and the absence of your updates gnawed at his heart.

You couldn't have died; Dottore was well aware of your immense strength. You were capable of battling on equal footing with Teyvat's mightiest individual, Il Capitano. Moreover, Dottore had made several modifications to your body, ensuring that death would be the least of your concerns. The notion of an enemy overpowering or eliminating you was simply inconceivable. Therefore, the only logical conclusion Dottore could come up with was that you willingly chose to depart from his side.

Il Dottore was well aware that you had left him. Your absence was palpable in the emptiness of your room, void of your presence, devoid of your clothing and your sword. It resembled the stark emptiness you met when you first arrived and were assigned your chamber within the Fatui. The tracker that you've willing injected into your skin was left on your desk, covered in dried blood.

Yes. You decided to leave him. The person who has promised to stay by his side no matter what, even if it meant venturing into the darkest recesses of the Abyss. The one who professed love for him, and whose gentle caresses would convey nothing but adoration in their eyes. You had promised nothing but loyalty, and he believed, trusted you because he knew it was genuine. You had always been truthful and obedient, never desiring to cause him any displeasure.

So why, pray tell, did you have the audacity to leave him after spending an entire century with him? Was it all in vain? Why did you choose to squander such a substantial amount of his time? Did every word that spilled out of your impudent mouth held no true meaning?

You were the one who sought him out. You willingly became an integral part of his life, unwaveringly remaining by his side and causing him both joy and turmoil. You've forcefully intertwined your life with his, so it should be his choice to leave, not yours! That's unfair of you to him.

You, claiming to be his loyal knight until your final moments, turned out to be nothing more than a falsehood. It is only now that Dottore realizes the absurdity of such a belief. You deceived him with your lies. Every promise you made was built upon a foundation of deceit. Why did you choose to betray him? Just why?

Why why why why why!?

It was unbearably cool in his personal office. The biting cold seemed to pierce through his skin, despite his body being engineered to no longer perceive temperature sensations. And yet when he walks toward his laboratory, watching the earliest versions of his segments doing their work without you in sight— he could feel his skin crawl and burn as if he was frostbitten. The sight of endless snow outside only added to the chilling atmosphere, intensifying his feelings since your departure.

"Instead of thinking about what happened in the ruins, just think of me! When you get cold, or see ice and snow, just think of me, and how I'll use my vision to protect you!"

The cold indeed reminded him of you, and in the depths of his despair, Dottore yearned for nothing than to watch his surroundings ablaze just to escape the icy pain that clawed his heart.

Dottore longs for the ability to erase your memory from his mind, desiring to rid himself of the emotions that you have stirred within him. These emotions, which he finds to be a hinderance, have tied his stomach into knots and inflicted a pain in his heart that only your absence could evoke.

Yet, deep down, Dottore couldn't shake the feeling that you wouldn't be able to stay away from him for long. Just like him, you had spent a significant portion of your lives together. You 'loved' him, after all. He was the center of your world.

Therefore, it didn't come as a surprise to Dottore when he found you standing in his chambers once again, your presence both familiar and fazing. You stood there with an air of patience, positioned by the edge of his untouched bed, as if you had been waiting for him all along.

Dottore observed you silently, noting the somber expression that etched your face, your lips pressed into a thin line. Your eyes, once vibrant with a spark, now seemed dull and devoid of their usual radiance. You kept your stare fixed on the ground, avoiding direct eye contact with him, a clear sign of guilt. A quick glance was enough for him to discern the toll your year-long disappearance had taken on you. Your hair appeared disheveled, evidence of neglect, and the presence of bags under your eyes spoke of sleepless nights. Moreover, he observed that you appeared noticeably thinner, as if the weight of your absence had physically worn you down.

As Dottore's gaze lingered upon you, he noticed a subtle tremble in the hand that rested atop the hilt of your sword. It was a nervous gesture, as if you were apprehensive about confronting him, despite having returned to the Fatui for his sake. Cold sweat trickled down your nose, evidence of the tension that filled the air. He observed as you anxiously chewed on your bottom lip, a sign of inner turmoil and unease.

Dottore scowled at your unexpected intrusion, his features contorting with displeasure. Crossing his arms, he assumed a facade of nonchalance, choosing to channel his simmering anger rather than acknowledge the concern he secretly harbored. "Well, well, look who decided to grace me with their presence again," Dottore sneered, his voice dripping with disdain. With an air of authority, he strode purposefully towards you, his steps brimming with an unspoken power. "It seems you've reappeared, after vanishing without so much as a word."

His words seemed to cause you to crumble further, evident by the way you gritted your teeth in discomfort. It took multiple attempts before you could finally open your mouth to speak, your voice strained. "Dottore, I... I didn't mean to cause you any pain. I had my reasons for leaving," you managed to say, your grip tightening on the hilt of your sword.

He recognized it as a telltale sign of your extreme unease, a habit you developed when confronted with uncomfortable situations. The realization he still remembers small habits of yours only fueled his anger, and he shot you a withering glare in response.

Dottore scoffed dismissively, rolling his eyes in a display of derision. "How bold of you to assume that your disappearance caused any pain. You were merely an inconsequential cog in the machinery of the Fatui, and your little stunt only added more irrelevant work to my already burdened table," He retorted, his tone laced with sarcasm.

The sting of his words caused you to wince, feeling the weight of his disdain. "I'm sure you had your reasons," He continued, with a roll of his eyes. "Reasons to be such an inconvenience."

"I thought... I thought it was for the best..." You whisper to yourself, but Dottore heard it loud and clear. A momentary pause ensued as he processed the ridiculousness of your admission.

Dottore's voice grew colder as he responded, his words laced with anger and hurt. "Best for whom, may I ask? Certainly not for me," He retorted sharply. "You think you can just waltz back into my life after all this time and expect everything to be as it was? Well, I assure you, it won't be."

Finally, you summoned the strength to straighten yourself, meeting Dottore's gaze with determination in your eyes. Your hands clenched into fists, revealing the intensity of your emotions. Softly, with the deepest sincerity resonating in your voice, you spoke from the depths of your heart. "No, I don't expect things to be as they were. But I... I miss you, Dottore. I miss being by your side, even if it means facing your anger."

Though, it invoked the opposite reaction you had hoped for.

Even if Dottore had begun to wear a mask, his glare pierces through the material, sending shivers down your spine. Sensing the growing intensity of his anger, you instinctively took a step back. His anger now seemed more potent than anything you had witnessed from him in the past years, intensifying the tension in the room.

"How. Dare. You." With each word, a sharp blade pierced your heart. "How dare you say that after leaving without a word? After spouting promise after promise that you'll always stay by my side?"

You swallowed down the heavy guilt as you looked away from him once more. It was getting harder not to cry in front of him.

"How dare you lie to me?" The words you once spoke, filled with promises and loyalty, were now exposed as empty falsities. The realization of being deceived gnawed at his core, deepening the resentment within him. "Making me believe your worthless vows and wasting my time? I knew you were up to no good from the moment you decided to become my 'friend'," A sarcastic laugh escaped his lips, dripping with scorn. "You liar."

As Dottore turned away from you, ready to leave, panic surged within you. Desperate to salvage the situation, you reached out towards him, "W-wait, Dottore, please! I can explain!"

"What is there to explain?" His voice carried a bitter edge, gaze hardening as he looked back at you. "Clearly, there is nothing more to clarify with your obvious betrayal." His mind had already made up its verdict, leaving little room for further explanation or justification in his eyes.

"Please, Zandik—"

"Zandik is dead!"

In a sudden burst of anger and frustration, Dottore slammed his fist against the wall, catching you off guard and silencing you instantly. The force behind his action was both startling and alarming, as Dottore had never directed such aggression towards you before. His usual demeanor consisted of light annoyance or a gentle scolding whenever you were about to make a stupid decision.

But this display was different—it spoke volumes about the depth of his hurt and anger. It was clear that he was more wounded than he was willing to admit, and the ache in your own heart mirrored his pain.

"Zandik is no more," He faced you again, this time, with his chin up. A condescending gaze set upon your anxious form, as if you were nothing but one of the mere hundreds of the Fatui soldiers that serve under his name. "There is only Il Dottore, the 2nd of the Fatui Harbingers. You are to speak with me with nothing but respect." He spat. "Do you understand?"

You couldn't believe what you were hearing. Throughout your life, you had served Dottore faithfully, dedicating yourself to his cause. While he had spoken to you with a similar tone in the past, this instance felt markedly different. The force of his words seemed to carry the weight of his power, suffocating and overwhelming.

It was as if the pedestal on which you had placed him had crumbled, revealing a darker side that left you shaken to your core. A side that Dottore would've never shown you if hadn't acted rashly. At that moment, you couldn't help but empathize with the countless soldiers who had felt the brunt of his authority.

"My command over you is absolute," Dottore declared with unwavering finality, his scowl revealing the sharp edges of his teeth. "You are to leave and never return. Now." His words hung in the air like an unbreakable decree, leaving no room for negotiation or reconsideration. The power he held over you was palpable, an undeniable reminder of the hierarchy that governed your relationship.

You stood there, dumbfounded, managing with the shock of his words. It took a moment for the reality of the situation to sink in, leaving you suspended in a state of disbelief. The weight of his decision bore down on you, leaving you breathless and overwhelmed.

His hand reached for the handle of his door, "I am giving you a chance. Do not put it to waste. Leave, before the Tsaritsa herself bestow you her punishment for your betrayal."

A sudden loud thump from behind Dottore made him pause, his attention shifting to the source of the sound. He could hear your shaky breaths and faint sniffles, struggling to form the words that clung at the back of your throat.

Dottore's instinct urged him to turn away, to escape the burden of your words and the sight of your wretched state. Every fiber of his being resisted the pull to stay and listen, to confront the emotions that threatened to entangle him further. Yet, there was a flicker of hesitation within him, a battle raging in his mind between the desire to leave and the nagging curiosity that lingered. A fleeting moment of uncertainty held him in place, suspended between the need to continue with his work and the possibility of facing the depths of your anguish.

It could be more of your lies, Dottore argued to himself. He refused to be a fool once more toward you. And yet...

"I'm so sorry Dottore... I.... I-I just felt so alone..." You started, attempting to quell your tears and wiping them off with your hands. "Ever since we joined the Fatui, you've barely had the time for yourself... Sure, we're now to the point that we don't have to eat, or sleep but... It was always work— since when did we last spend time together?"

The notion of necessity echoed in his mind, provoking questions that had long been suppressed. How could this sudden discontentment emerge after a century of unwavering dedication? You had been instrumental in carrying out his missions, assisting in his projects, and even co-creating the segments alongside him. When did it all begin to matter? Dottore hardened his gaze onto the door before him, refusing to face you.

"If you were lonely, you could've spoken to the segments instead. You know how busy I am."

You let out a small, weak, humorless laugh. "Yeah, well, they're not complete, remember?"

Dottore frowned at that, "What do you mean?"

"You removed their memories of me because... Well, you said that I was distracting..." You reminded him, a sad smile on your face. "I took it as a compliment back then. Even if I tried to talk to them... They'll just ignore me and look at me as if I'm a stranger... Funny because you do the same thing..."

Ah, yes. He did do that. Right, it was the main reason why the segments were so efficient with their work. It made him realize how much you were a hindrance to his progress. A distraction that causes him to feel unwanted emotions and urges, indulging in senseless activities like you once had when you were both younger...

It annoyed him how it seemed his make his heart clench at those memories.

"I'm not suited to be your knight anymore, not when I have little use for you now." That made him turn his head to look at you, only to see you on your knees, trembling and holding back yourself from sobbing, to continue speaking before he stops listening. "I... The Fatui can give you everything you need now... You have soldiers working for you, even the segments! Sure, you send me into missions and tell me I'm still useful but..."

Your words hung into the air, your bottom lip quivered as you forced yourself to continue. "I couldn't even protect you from that." Your eyes glanced to the mask he wore, and he immediately knew what you were talking about.

His hand went underneath his mask, the feeling of the deep, jagged scars that has healed over time through his gloves disgusts him. The scar on his face was something he deeply abhorred, but he never blamed you for it.

"I promised to protect you, and yet... I let that happen..." Your voice quivered with a mix of despair and frustration, tears staining the cold tile floor beneath you.

The mention of his scar, a symbol of his vulnerability and pain, struck a chord within both of you. Your teeth clenched, and your gaze remained fixed on the floor, burning with a mixture of self-loathing and anguish. The raw honesty in your words reverberated through the room, casting shadows of doubt upon the promises that had once bound you together.

The mask he wore, the facade that shielded his true emotions, served as a constant reminder of your perceived shortcomings and the unfulfilled expectations you had placed upon yourself.

"What kind of knight am I? I know how much you hate that scar— and I hate the fact that I could've prevented it!" You cried, "I hate seeing your mask, because it just reminds me that I'm a failure that couldn't uphold their promises!"

...Just like the deep-rooted resentment Dottore harbored towards your Vision, you found yourself consumed by an equal loathing for his mask. It was a peculiar parallel, where two individuals were constantly reminded of their own failures in the presence of one another.

As the silence stretched on, punctuated only by your inconsolable sobs, Dottore's demeanor remained unreadable. His lips pressed into a thin line, his expression an enigmatic mask. The absence of any immediate reaction from him fueled your misery, increasing the uncertainty of his true feelings.

At that moment, you yearned for a glimmer of understanding, a sign that he cared or acknowledged your pain. But the void of his response deepened the ache within you, amplifying the sense of loneliness and despair.

"I love you, I really do! There's nothing in this world that could ever stop me from loving you." You professed loudly, hoping to reach him, "From our childhood, to the Akademiya and joining here at the Fatui, my heart has undoubtedly belonged to you! You think I did all of that for nothing?"

"And when you accepted my feelings, I was so happy!" You hung your head low, trying to talk through hiccups and sobs. You couldn't stop your tears even if you wanted to. "But I know that Zandik loved me more than Il Dottore ever has." The pain in your voice as you utter your words made Dottore's poise for a moment, "I don't even know if Il Dottore loves me..."

Your words struck him harder than he liked. It was an absurd statement. His past self? Loving you more than him? It doesn't make sense.

But as he watched you sob, he couldn't help but wonder if his feelings for you were genuine or merely a facade he had constructed to maintain control over you.

Did he truly love you, or was it just an illusion he had allowed himself to indulge to keep you in check? You were the one to confessed to him, and love is such a foreign concept to Dottore. The thought haunted him, unraveling the carefully constructed walls around his heart and exposing a raw and uncertain truth.

"The day Zandik died was I guess the day your love for me died." You managed a weak laugh. A laugh to shake away your pain, yet so sad and dull. Your laugh shouldn't sound like that. He hated it.

Was he the reason for it as well?

"I tried to move on because I knew you can... But I just couldn't..." You whispered, wrapping your arms tightly around yourself for comfort. Your voice trembled with emotion as you continued, "I can't stand being away from you, I can't bear not being able to hear your voice, to see you, to be with you." You look up at him with tearful eyes, broken and full of regret.

"Please... give me one more chance," You pleaded, your voice filled with desperation. The tears streamed down your face, but determination shone through your eyes. "I won't complain anymore, I won't ask for anything... I'll accept you give me. I'll be your loyal and dedicated assistant, always by your side!"

In the midst of your cries, Dottore has stumbled upon a realization.

The cold, snow, and ice became incessant reminders of you, and it annoyed him to no end. As the days turned into months during your disappearance, his agitation grew, fueled by a mix of anger and longing that he couldn't quite suppress. He continued to send search parties after you, under the pretense of seeking revenge for your betrayal, but deep down, he knew there was more to it. Beneath the facade of vengeance, a part of him yearned for your return, unable to ignore the void you had left behind.

After all those times, did he simply miss you?

Even after you left, his hand would unconsciously reach out, longing for your presence beside him. Dottore found himself expecting to see you around every corner, only to be greeted by the stark emptiness of his laboratory, which he had never truly noticed until your absence. The flavors and aromas of the dishes you used to cook for him lingered in the air, teasing his senses with memories.

The familiar tunes you hummed while working echoed in his mind, and the pleasant chatter that once served as background noise now felt like a void in his ears.

Your absence had woven itself into the fabric of his daily life, leaving behind a profound emptiness that he struggled to fill.

He could vividly recall the echoes of those emotions from his time at the Akademiya when you were obligated to attend classes. Dottore— Zandik would insist that you not waste your time with mundane lectures when you could be assisting him in his groundbreaking projects.

He would nag you, trying to convince you to prioritize his work over your studies, much to your amusement. The memory of your laughter at his feeble excuses and playful banter warmed his heart, reminding him of the deep bond you shared.

Dottore's gaze remained fixed on your trembling figure, your hands tightly balled into fists. You couldn't bring yourself to meet his eyes. The fear of facing how he truly feels held you back.

Another realization was drawn to him.

He had always admired your resilience, your ability to endure even the harshest of circumstances without shedding a tear. It both intrigued and frustrated him, for he had never quite understood the source of your inner strength. As children, he had witnessed you gritting your teeth and smiling through injuries, embracing the pain as a catalyst for your determination. It was a quality that set you apart, that made you formidable.

Was this pain different then? There was no physical damage on your body, and yet you were here. You were one of the strongest people he has ever known, but you were on your knees, breaking down in tears and pathetically begging for his forgiveness.

His chest felt unbearable tight, seeing you so weak, so vulnerable. The image clashed with the image he had of you in his mind—strong, resilient, and always composed. Seeing you in such a state shattered his perception of your unwavering strength. Between the two of you, you were more emotional than him. But for you to grovel to his feet? It was something he'd never thought he'd ever see.

Oh, how easy for him to just kick you. To toss you on the ground as if you were nothing, and he knew you'd take it rather than fighting back and hurt him.

How come you'd never lay a hand on him? To make him feel the pain he knew a sinner like him deserves? When he has hurt you more than he could have ever known? You were suffering in silence since you only wanted to please him, to never bother him, and yet he was only ignorant to the signs, even if they're growing more and more obvious.

Your patience seemed endless when it came to him, doing everything you could do for him; exploring the most dangerous locations of Teyvat, piling bodies after bodies for his sake, and following every single command he gives you. Only for a mere hum of acknowledgement, a small smile, or nothing at all from him.

Has he shown any sort of gratitude toward you? You loved him so unconditionally, and you get little to none in return. Dottore couldn't even offer you the bare minimum.

You've always been like that, doing everything he says just to please him, to be of service, to be by his side. A massive flaw that he was well aware of ever since you were young.

Dottore wasn't even sure if the two of you were in a romantic relationship. It seemed so one-sided now that he looked back into his memories, even more so ever since the both of you joined the Fatui...

Forgiveness shouldn't be earned by a mere apology. You'd have to work for it, suffer the consequences of your misdemeanor, and he will grant you another chance. That's how it should be, how Dottore wanted it to be.

And yet, when you rose your head to look at him, nothing but remorse and resignation in your face... He couldn't bring himself to— not when he should be the one apologizing to you.

"You... you don't have to love me back..." You say quietly, snapping Dottore's attention back to you. "I-I promise... It was selfish of me to just walk out— punish me, I don't care! Just take me back, please—"

A resounding smack reverberated through the room, cutting you off. You recoil from the slap that landed on your cheek, you squeezed your eyes shut as your skin throbbed from the pain. You bit your tongue to silence yourself.

Dottore slowly got down to his knees right in front of you. As much as he didn't want to hurt you, he needed you to get your shit back together. This wasn't you. Or at least, this was a side of you that he has never seen, nor meant for his eyes. It didn't feel right to see you trembling before him, to be so afraid.

"You should have never came back." He heard you take in a sharp inhale, yet your eyes remained shut, too uncertain, too scared to look at him in the eye. "It would've been better for you to leave me." Your brow furrowed at his words.

He knew that you loved him for who he was. You probably knew him more than he knew himself, but could he say the same for you? Even if the answer was no, if Dottore should stay the same, not changing himself after this occurrence, he knows that you'd still love him.

Slipping off the gloves that he has always worn, and the mask that he had recently adorned, his hands reached for your face. Hesitantly, he cupped your cheeks into his hands. Your eyes snapped open as you jerked back from his touch. You seemed more shocked that he attempted to fondly hold you rather than hit you.

It stirred unexplainable emotions in his chest... Emotions that he'd rather not experience more, and a bitter taste settling on his tongue. He tried again, unsure if he was doing it correctly. Your discomfort didn't help either.

Dottore has never been honest on how he truly felt. He didn't even know what he felt half the time, mostly because he had only felt them with you. These emotions, these feelings, joy, anger, sadness, loneliness, and perhaps love; if it wasn't for you, he would've never known how it feels to be... more than the freak that people has entitled him to be. More than a heretic or a mad scientist. You had always treated him as if he was a person worth of your love and affections.

He should've been more honest.

"You... are worth more..." Your eyes widened at the words he spoke, "Worth more than I could ever admit... All your efforts, warmth... They have gone unnoticed... Ignored..."

"Zan- Dottore..." He could feel you shaking against his bare hands, the texture of your skin, the curve of your cheeks, he could feel them now. His hands tingled in a way he has never felt before, pulling you closer to him.

He wishes that you called him Zandik instead.

"You are nothing in comparison to all the achievements that I have accomplished. You are annoying, loud, and always stirring up trouble in my laboratory... And yet, during your disappearance..."

He shouldn't have turned a blind eye in everything you have done for him.

There were a lot of things he wanted to say, things he knew you needed to desperately hear, but they got stuck in his throat. Dottore has never been honest, it was easier to ignore it than confront things that were unknown. How ironic, given that he was a scientist that always pursued the unknown.

Nonetheless, you understood. You always did. He needn't speak for you to get him.

Dottore could've claimed that he reached to this point all on his own, with his unparalleled genius and dedication. But undoubtedly, you were there throughout his whole life, from his brightest days and past all his hardships. You've supported him more than anyone else.

And he made another mistake; letting you believe that you're nothing to him. That he doesn't love you, and that you were merely just a tool. No, that's not true. Not when his heart, his cold, dead heart, could only beat for you, and that without you, he was incomplete as you are. Lost, and lonely.

"I realized that fact too late..." Dottore closed his eyes, pressing his forehead against yours. You couldn't help but let out a sob, your heart pounding against your chest at the sudden honesty he was pouring onto you. Oh how long you've yearned for this moment, it made you tremble.

It was quiet, below a whisper that Dottore wasn't sure if you heard it... But for you, it was loud and clear, his words repeating again and again inside your head.

"I..."

vi. devotion

"What took you so long?"

As you step foot into his office, barely making it past the threshold, he already hit you a question with the most accusing tone ever. However, you respond with a genuine, warm smile, immediately feeling a sense of familiarity despite his prickly demeanor. Playfully, you quip, "Six months away on a mission, and this is the welcome I receive, babe?"

Dottore responded with a scoff and a roll of his eyes, a scowl forming on his lips, one that you've grown so in love with. His gaze fixated on your disheveled appearance, taking in the swollen state of your lips, the trickle of blood staining your chin, and the messy opening of your collar, revealing a mosaic of red and purple marks adorning your collarbones and neck. His scowl only deepened upon witnessing the spectacle, and even behind his mask, you could sense the piercing daggers of his glare aimed directly at you.

"I received news of your arrival hours ago, and yet you decided to take your sweet time before gracing my office with your presence?" He ceased his writing and put his pen down on his desk. Oooo, he's serious.

"Awww, miss me so much, you keep up to date on everything I do?" You cooed at him teasingly at him and decided to push his papers to the side and sit on his desk, directly in front of him. He chose to ignore your remark.

"What were you doing?" He asked, more inquisitive this time, leaning towards you. You responded with a playful gesture, pursing your lips in a thoughtful manner, feigning deep contemplation over the endeavors you had undoubtedly embarked upon your return.

Just by this, he already seemed unimpressed.

"Oh, you know, I passed by some cuties to your office, so I decided to have some fun!" You smirked when he crossed his arms, his scowl deepened when you pointed at the red marks all over you. It was as if a bunch of sharks had decided to latch onto your skin and bite you.

"So you cheated on me." He bluntly stated. "Again."

You gave him an incredulous look as you let out an overexaggerated gasp. "Oh my darling! I would never think of cheating with you!" You dramatically cried out, "You'd cut me up to pieces and put my parts in individual jars up for display!"

A faint twitch appeared at the corners of Dottore's lips and you swiftly abandoned your playful facade. "Hey," You pouted, your voice tinged with a hint of warning, "Don't get any ideas. I don't like that look on your face."

Dottore's scowl suddenly transformed into a wide grin, revealing the sharp teeth that you've always adored. "Well, my dear, if you were preserved in a jar, at least I would have the assurance that you'd remain there, looking exquisitely beautiful for me, without any possibility of you straying." He playfully remarked, his words laced with a hint of possessiveness that you couldn't help but find endearing.

You bark out a laugh, shaking your head. “That’s morbid, love.” He tutted at that and let out a small ‘hmph!’ in disappointment. He’s so cute. “Besides, I’m not cheating!”

“They are segments.” Dottore deadpanned, his scowl returning to his face, but you could tell it was in a much playful manner. 

You raise a brow at that, “Uh, segments of you. Designed after you. They think like you. They are literally you, but just a specific age, ‘cuz you’re crazy like that.” 

"But they could never compare to the real deal," Dottore persisted, his voice carrying a hint of seriousness. "The true original. The one who created all of them," He declared, pointing confidently at himself, and you almost imploded trying to hold back your laughter.

“I’m sorry, babe, I couldn’t help myself.” You cooed, sliding off his desk and decided to make yourself comfortable on his lap instead, “They’re irresistible.” Dottore looked extremely disappointed at you, his arms snaking around your waist and pulling you closer to him. He held nothing but disdain at the sight of the marks on your neck. 

“Yes, so much, so you let them bite you all over.” 

“They missed me. They only bite because it’s a trait of yours.”

“You have no evidence of this so-called trait of mine.”

“Babe, you for real?” Before you could say another word, Dottore seized you by the collar and pressed his lips against yours with an insatiable hunger. The force of the kiss left you breathless, a testament to the months he had spent yearning for your presence, and you decide to kiss his segments before him? The one you’ve known the longest? He tilted his head to deepen the kiss, and before you got yourself lost against his lips, he bit your bottom lip. Hard.

“Ah, fuck!” You cursed out loud, furrowing your brow at the big bruise on your lips. It tasted raw, the fragile skin easily broken with his sharp teeth. More blood dribbled down your chin as you stared at him, your turn to look so unimpressed. “No evidence, my ass! Stop biting so hard, I’m going to die of blood loss.” 

Dottore looked so proud of himself, smirking at you. “I have no idea what you are talking about, my dearest.”

You could only scoff when he licked his lips, definitely enjoying the taste of your blood. “Maybe if you were more honest, then I’d stop making out the segments behind your back.” That seemed to pique his interest, his expression reflecting an internal struggle as he debated whether to succumb to your obvious attempt at manipulation.

"I'm sorry, dear, I love you."

"See," You grin at yourself. "It's not so hard now, is it?"

Years had passed since that one intense confrontation, yet Dottore still struggled to openly express his deepest emotions, but you had come to accept it as a part of who he was. It didn't pose a significant problem for you, as you understood his unique way of conveying love. In his own enigmatic manner, he had discovered alternative ways to demonstrate the depth of his affection. He had shed his inhibitions and now allowed his love to flow freely, unencumbered by the barriers he had once erected.

Dottore hummed, "You know, my dear, I still think you'd make a splendid addition to my collection, preserved in a jar for all eternity." His playful tone hinted at his twisted sense of endearment, a dark humor that was uniquely his.

"I take it back." You glared at him, shivering at the thought. "You're mad."

A mischievous smile danced on Dottore's lips as he teased, brushing his gloved fingers gently against your cheek. "Ah, but my dear, it's precisely that madness that captivates you, isn't it?"

With a huff, you wrapped your arms around his neck, burying your face in the comfort of his shoulders. "Lucky for you, that's true," you admitted, your voice filled with a mix of exasperation and affection. "Missed you,"

He held you tight in his embrace, reciprocating the warmth of your hug. Picking up his pen once again, he returned to his work, the presence of you on his lap bringing a sense of completeness. It felt like home. "And I've missed you too, my knight," He whispered, his words blending seamlessly with the scratching of the pen against the paper, as you both settled into the comforting rhythm of each other's presence.

- ̥۪͙۪˚┊❛❛ If you like this a lot, consider reblogging! I'll appreciate it very very much! Don't repost and/or translate my work anywhere. ❜❜ ┊˚ ̥۪͙۪◌

[flebdoodle]

"It will scatter your friends into the universe and shatter them, only with a great effort be able to reclaim them."

Help me? Are you there? Etho?

"Two hundred against thirty-seven, a scale that could never balance."

Anyways, hit fanfiction series Still the Echoes Give Us Light, amirite?

[m1d-45]

(please delete the other one, i forgot to add something 😭)

To: Il Dottore, Segment: Beta.

Snezhnaya, Zalponarny Palace, Basement Laboratory, Room 12.

(the letter was in a gold and white envelope, suprisingly unwilt jasmine flowers glued to the edges, the letter was ontop of a box matching it's aesthetic..)

Hello, Dottore, as your beloved creator, i trust that your research is going well? have you had any recent break throughs? well, this letter is mainly for the younger segments, but 'boattore' too! i love that silly doctor segment. how have you guys been doing in the lab? i know mad scientists like you guys are way too busy to probably read this but it's worth a try! i hope you guys remember to shower and eat while experimenting, can't be a great doctor and do great things on an empty stomach with hunger fatigue, amirite'? well, moving on...don't tell any other of my acolytes but you're on the list of my 6 favourites, i have a list of people for you to experiment on....think of it as a friendship exchange. well...while i sit here, writing this letter on my desk knowing i have classes at my university tomorrow, while it being night, i don't have regrets, sometimes i hope to be a high achiever scholar like you someday,

love you, little crow.

—from, your favourite flirty creator.

(in the box was a fine bottle of wine that pantalone himself couldn't get his hands on ! aswell as a new surgical kit made out of metal with gold accents..a white and pink suit and bow tie ! aswell as a small little plushie of dottore himself.)

dottore has seen many things, due simply to the nature of his work. demons beyond mortal understanding, bound in his office. men with the power of gods delivering paperwork. those same men bickering like fools.

he’s made his own god—even if the balladeer is still in progress, he’d be a fool not to recognize how easily the gnosis took to his form. he’s broken every ethical and moral law, created new ones just to break them again. he’s defied death itself, he’s risen to the second highest rank in the fatui, he’s seen everything and made even more.

and yet, when he walks into his lab, he never expected to see his clones standing around a table, poking and prodding at a mysterious box that he certainly did not put there. he quickly shoved himself to the front, ignoring their questions and picking up the envelope. it was surprisingly decorated for something in his lab, and addressed… to one of his segments?

he frowned.

his beta segment pressed to his side, but his curiosity won out his irritation. the envelope didn’t have a return name or address, so he simply tore it open, probably ripping the paper more than necessary.

every single sentence of your sentence was a surprise.

the first explained how it had gotten into his office, as well as why. but… why would you be interested in his work? even going so far as to give a nickname to one of his segments- calling him mad was expected, but the concern for his- for their health was not.

when you called them your favorite, he smiled. when you outright said you had suggestions for his experiments, he outright laughed.

dottore had long since accepted he had forsaken his creator. and yet, you said you loved him nonetheless. you him a bottle of dandelion wine—the segments ooh’d over that one, since the dawn winery had always made it a point to never sell to snezhnaya—and new tools. the beta segment had snatched whatever pink fabric you had tucked inside, but he was free to inspect the small plush left in the ornate box.

how interesting, he thought, that you had gone through the effort to get the perfect shade of string for his eyes.

[hibischush]

Dancing headcannons for the bachelors/bachelorettes? Like how good they are, how much they enjoy it etc? I love love love your writing and seriously can't wait for Aug 5th

So sorry for such a late reply! Life & work caught up to me. Who knew that preparing for college took a lot of time, money, and effort, amirite?

Thank you so much for the compliment! I'm glad you all enjoy my writing and I'm so excited for August 5th 🌺💗

Bachelors;

Balor

I don't think that Balor would seek out dancing himself or dancing alone

He liked being with groups of people where their focus isn't entirely on him

He's not bad at dancing but not great either, but he's aware of that and still enjoys dancing with others despite mistakes being made

Once in a romantic relationship, he starts to seek out dancing with you during quiet moments

Like think at night in the kitchen, lights are off and the only noise is the sound of the stove heating up a kettle of water for night tea

And Balor slowly rocks the two of you back and forth tenderly and deliberately, not having to say a word to express how much he loves you

March

March is the only person on here that explicitly dislikes dancing

He's never liked it, mainly because he isn't that great at it

He can never match a tempo, he steps on others feet, and he feels like people watch him and make fun of him silently

If you wanted March to dance with you, it couldn't be in public

Being friends with him, its nearly impossible to convince him that you'd teach him

And being romantically involved isn't that much easier

He just gets super nervous of messing up or looking stupid in front of anyone, especially you

Hayden

If you look at Hayden you already know what style of dance he enjoys best

It's gonna be the honky-tonky country dances of western American

This man can throw a hoedown

Hayden is loud and enjoys company, and square-dancing is a wonderful opportunity for him to be himself

He loves the community feeling surrounding it

He's been doing it for years and is a master at it, and willing to teach anyone the dance

Ryis

Ryis enjoys dancing at social outings if he's somehow roped into it

Not to say that he would avoid the dancefloor, but he only wants to dance if someone else wants him to be there

He also knows folk dance styles like square dancing

But I know that he would enjoy jiving the best, especially with a romantic partner

He loves the energy and playfulness behind it

Eiland

Just as his sister had, Eiland was raised with the expectation to know ballroom dances as the son of nobility

Growing up he found the lessons as a drag, and would much rather be out in the field digging than tripping over his own feet for an hour

He was good at dancing, but clearly didn't put in a lot of passion into his movements and his dance partners would be able to tell that he really didn't want to be there

He only really started to enjoy dancing once he met his s/o

that way he had a dance partner he enjoyed, not one that was set up to court him

He'd be showing you off while dancing

Eiland was only taught waltz and variations like the viennese waltz for public usage

But he would definitely enjoy slower and more tender styles like the tango in privacy

Bachelorettes;

Celine

Celine knows how to do most folk style of dancing

She's going to drag you into a hoedown once you're friends you cannot escape it

Reina will make sure you can't escape too lmao

Celine really likes dancing! She doesn't do it often but when the occasion calls for it, she'll do it

She also gives me a lot of irish vibes for some reason, and I can easily see her adapting irish dances like the irish step dance or céilí dance

Celine prefers the excitement and joy found in group dances and likely won't dance alone or in private

Juniper

Juniper would def eat up belly dancing

I feel like its a daily ritual for her

Pop a record in and dance her heart away for 10 mins with Dozy

But other than singular dance styles, she would like partner based styles that are sensual like the Argentine tango

Its slow and requires her to read her partners movements

Idk its going to be the sweetest you've been treated by her because she's so focused on your movements and your reactions to hers

She's good at her 'safe' dances, but she cannot do fast tempos with partners

She will be tripping over you or herself

Reina

Of course Reina likes dancing are you kidding me

She comes from a musical family after all, she'll have some experience

I think she'd know how to do most folk dances by heart, similar to Celine

Like she's been in a hoedown alr

Reina loves to drag her siblings onto the dance floor and likes to improvise her dances to their uncoordinated ones

But if I had to say specific styles that are her favorite...

I would say mambo or west coast swing for ballroom dancing and just general improv for her dancing on her own

Reina looves the WCS because you can work off of your dance partner

Valen

I don't think Valen is one to dance for fun

The most she'd know how to do is just the generic slow dance (think prom dances lol)

I also think that she wouldn't dance by herself for the fun of it, and wouldn't dance in social areas if not required

However, if she had a partner who enjoyed dancing then I'm sure she'd love to dance with you

Valen isn't the greatest at dancing--she's a bit stiff and loses her tempo occasionally-- but she likes to show that she isn't perfect at everything to her partner, and enjoys the closeness

Adeline

I've talked about this before, but Adeline definitely has experience with ballroom dancing

Particularly the waltz/viennese waltz

Any dance with wide, sweeping steps

As a rank of nobility, both she and Eiland were required to learn it

But I believe that she genuinely enjoys it and its one of her only hobbies that can make time for

I think it would be cute if she would teach lessons for the kids in Mistria

She obviously prefers to have a dancing partner, and she'll enjoy having a friend or a romantic partner to dance with

Since she dances often and has years of practice, she is quite good at it

I could see her being interested in ballet (esp pointe)

I hoped y'all liked this. Also apologies for any mistakes on the names of/styles of dances are incorrect! I do not dance on the daily lol

[historiavn]

SPILLING THE TEA ON ME AND MY HABITS AS A ROLEPLAY PARTNER (except the tea is an explanation and NOT an excuse because that would suck)

MY SILENCE IS NOT HATRED, AND I CAN BE SILENT FOR A VARIETY OF REASONS.

As I explained in my rules document, I am currently in year five of six of university. This means that one of those reasons is university-related, in the sense that I might be busy with my uni courseload or extracurriculars.

I also might only have the energy or muse to respond to some threads / messages and not to others. This is the type of thing that leads to me frequently responding to threads / messages from months ago, often to the great bafflement of my writing partners.

IF I FOLLOW YOU, I WANT TO INTERACT AT SOME POINT.

Our writing styles might mesh well together, or we might share fandoms (even if I don’t have A Character on my roster for that fandom, I can still create verses for my muses in that fandom and / or I want to fangirl about said fandom with you)

Sometimes, it just takes me a hot minute to figure out How to have our muses interact, even if I Know I want to interact with you. This “hot minute” in question might be a few days, a few weeks, a whole entire month, or maybe in the most extreme cases, a year.

If you follow me first, pretty please with sugar on top fill out my interest tracker so that I know who you want to write with?

MY MUSE IS INCREDIBLY SPORADIC AND ANNOYINGLY SPONTANEOUS.

Ah, the classic dilemma of AuADHD, amirite?

With the impulsive nature of my fixations, a thread I have muse for one week might not have that same level of muse a couple weeks later. I used to just drop these threads, but I’m working on getting better about actually following through on coming back to threads when I do get muse for them. If you’ve noticed me responding to threads from two, three, or even four months ago, that’s why that’s happening.

The only time I’ll drop a thread or dynamic is when I get soft / hard blocked by whoever I’m writing with or the other person tells me that they want to drop a thread.

When in doubt, assume that I haven’t dropped a thread unless I tell you explicitly that I’m dropping a thread.

Dropped threads don’t mean dropped dynamics.

I have no specific schedule; I tend to reply to whatever threads / messages / memes I have muse for in that immediate moment first. But please do not assume that my silence means a lack of interest!

I’M QUITE SHY AND ABSOLUTELY AWFUL AT COMMUNICATING WITH RP PARTNERS.

I’m trying to get better at it and work on conquering my fear of confrontation and social anxiety in the process, but please bear with me because it is an Ongoing Effort.

ngl this hobby has actually done wonders for helping me handle my social anxiety but there’s still a LONG way to go. if I follow you first and I’m taking forfuckingEVERRR to reach out, just know I’m gathering courage to do so.

[randomthefox]

Even when ignoring the games and judging idw sonic on its own merits, it's just not a good product. Idw sonic is one of the most boring and shallow comic books I've ever read. Every concept gets ruined beyond salvation. The story is always disagreeing with itself and refusing to go anywhere. Every character is either a plank of wood or unforgivably annoying. The visuals and scenery are woefully forgettable.

I honestly can't tell what the point is. From a business standpoint, the answer is obviously money. But from a creative standpoint, what's being done here? Are the writers and artists getting any enjoyment from creating such banal slop? Is it fun to spend so much effort creating a story that doesn't function in any way whatsoever?

That's not even getting into how mediocre idw sonic is compared to actually good comics. And even if you go only by comics under idw publishing the idw sonic comic still falls short.

Read any non-sonic comic published by idw then go back to idw sonic. The difference in quality and entertainment value is staggering.

Idw sonic has no value and the atrocious writing choices make zero sense.

Yeah exactly.

It being a disrespectful toxic blight upon the Sonic franchise is why I HATE it, but it's still a completely irredeemable heap of trash even if you just treat it as its own standalone product. And like I've said before the comic is INCOMPREHENSIBLE GIBBERISH if you do not have a pre-established familiarity with the video games. So even if you're completely ridiculously unreasonably generous and go into the comic with full knowledge and awareness of the video games in mind so that you know who everybody is because the comic never explains or introduces anybody, and even if you accept for the sake of argument that the status quo of the series is what the comic says it is even though the comic never demonstrates it and nothing from the video games supports its assertions - the comic STILL completely FAILS as a narrative.

The characters do not act consistently with their established characterization within the comic nor with their previous deeds and stated beliefs. There is NO character development, for ANYONE. There is no world building to speak of, I legitimately have no idea where the fuck the comic is even supposed to take place or where anything is in relation to anywhere else. Everybody constantly acts like a complete moron in order to facilitate plot contrivances that aren't interesting or entertaining. There's no thematic concepts or insightful commentary to be found, the closest the comic gets to anything of that nature is meta textual interludes that make zero sense within the context of the universe and are only included for the sake of shouting "THOSE SONIC VIDEO GAMES SURE ARE STUPID AND DUMB AMIRITE?" to the audience. And the art has degraded to the point of being absolutely nauseating to look at with the sequential flow of events being borderline impossible to follow along with.

This comic is unreadable garbage. The ONLY conceivable POSSIBLE way ANYBODY could derive ANY enjoyment from it whatsoever at this point is if they HATE HATE HATE the Sonic video games and the comic serves as an outlet for them to hold aloft and proclaim it to be superior to the video games. In the same way some fifty year old divorcee will go to bars and try hitting on twenty year olds by telling them how much hotter she is than his ex wife.

This comic cannot be cancelled soon enough.

[little-peril-stories]

Blood Garnet - WIP Intro

it's a working title leave me alone

Aka: WIP Wednesday / Vaguely Summarized WIP / I'm Desperately Trying to Get This Dumb Story Out of My System

DISCLAIMER: this stupid story is a silly, self-indulgent mess that would require a lot of hard work to make it, um, fit for human consumption. It was my little brain break between finishing The Queen of Lies and restarting The Court of Rogues. It may not ever get finished. 🤷‍♀️ So, uh, you're forewarned. 😇

OPEN TAG for WIP Wednesday, Vaguely Summarized Plot, or both 😊- there's a lot of nonsense in here so I feel bad subjecting even more people to it 😂

Let's use this cheeky lil post for some recent WIP Wednesday tags: Thank you @kaylinalexanderbooks and @sleepywriter00 for the tags! Posts here and here (same post chain).

Rules: Pick a WIP. Post something about it. On a Wednesday. Or whenever! It can be literally anything! 😊 (It does NOT need to be extra as this😅.)

Mood Board

don't anyone say anything about how there isn't a single gemstone on this mood board

What's It About?

Take a drink every time you see an element Kate's used before in other stories. 😅

Evyn, a schoolteacher, impulsively embarks on a journey in an effort to escape the chokehold of her small village, overbearing uncle, and inevitable (and unwanted) fate as someone’s happy little wife. It’s risky, of course: wild animals roam the woods, and she still doesn’t know the source of the mysterious lights that gleam through the darkness at night. However, she gets more than she bargained for—the forest is not what it seems, nor are those mystical yellow lights.

The Fae, creatures of legend, are real.

And they’re coming for her.

Vaguely Summarized Plot

Also using up another tag here! Thank you @mysticstarlightduck for this one! Posts here and here. The tag is kind of perfect for this seeing as I don't know much of the plot myself, so I have no choice but to be vague. :)

Rules: Summarize your WIP in 15 2-5 word bullet points (as if you were trying to summarize it in 15 seconds). (I didn't stick to the limit at all.)

✨ “So the forest's been kind of glowing lately? And no one but me seems to have noticed? Ok. Coolcoolcool.”

✨ “Get married? Me? Never!” Evyn Edition: Simply Not Interested But I Must Be Lying Because All Women Want to Get Married, Amirite?

✨ “Get married? Me? Never!” Jonathan Edition: Very Not Straight But Try Telling That To My Religious Zealot of a Father

✨ Jealous twin will NOT let his sister win control of their clan like she wins everything else, damn it (footnote 1)

✨ Emo loner who can’t go home (on pain of death) just wants these weird dreams about some random-ass human to please STOP (footnote 2)

✨ “I’m going to pursue independence! In another town! On a time crunch! By walking through the woods! At night! I’m a schoolteacher with no survival experience! This Is A Good Idea!”

✨ Grumpy grandma re: pesky human: What is her deal?

✨ “Hello yes hi I’m the emo loner. I’m unrealistically attractive. I saved you for reasons I won’t explain. But also I don’t talk to humans. Or Fae, really. Or. Like. Anyone. Not often anyway. What’s talking again?”

✨ “So, like, you're kind of hot … but you’re, uh, my enemy?? But I haven't figured that out yet?? And also, do we, like, have weird sexual tension, haha, or is it just me? Hahahaha! … But seriously, do we?”

✨ "Hey I know you have breathing issues or whatever, so you don’t like dusty or dirty or humid places, but … wanna take a shortcut through this super duper cool underground cave system?”

✨ “Haha, what? No?! There’s no reason I’m avoiding this area of the forest! Nope! No reason at all!”

✨ YOU get a betrayal! And YOU get a betrayal! And YOU get a—

✨ “Who is the monster and who is the man?” (footnote 3)

✨ This asylum makes the one in TQOL look like a vacation! (footnote 4)

✨ Sexy villainess gets to emotionally torture one MC and then physically torture another. AND psychologically torture them both! Hell, maybe she’ll even kill one of ’em too! Fun for the whole family!

Footnotes

(1) IT’S NOTHING LIKE ZUKO AND AZULA SHUT UP

(2) IT’S NOTHING LIKE RHYSAND AND FEYRE SHUT UP

(3) IT’S NOTHING LIKE QUASIMODO AND FROLLO SHUT—oh who am I kidding 🎶

(4) Technically the whole asylum thing happened in this story first, like, 2 or 3 years ago. That version just lives in a purple notebook that will never be seen by any eyes but mine. So, really, TQOL stole the asylum setting from BG, not the other way around.

Character Vibes

Evyn, human, orphaned as a child and raised by her aunt and uncle. Now a schoolteacher who sees yellow lights no one else can see.

“My heart cannot be captured. I intend to die an old maid, surrounded by papers and books. Good afternoon!”

Jonathan, human. Evyn's cousin, a clerk. Just truckin' on through a life he finds endlessly tedious and unsatisfying.

“Cecil’s a soggy piece of tree bark in a hat,” he said before he could stop himself.

Ah, Jonathan Garnet. A man who gained a single speck of favour with his impossible-to-please father…and promptly hurled it into the wind.

Dharan, Fae. Exiled from his clan years ago for murdering another Fae.

The Fae leapt up, standing straight and bending his knees as if to run—or perhaps pounce. One hand hovered over the stolen knife on his belt; the other, he extended to her.

He looked away from his foe to meet her gaze, uttering a single word:

“Run.”

Rennith, Fae. Heir to his clan but competing for the title against his twin sister.

He was a man, it seemed, but those eyes bespoke something much more ancient—of man, but not man himself. Silver hair, an impossible shade, framed a face sculpted into sharp angles, as cold and pale as if it were made of ice.

A Fae creature forged in primordial fire, carved from gold, silver, and mother-of-pearl.

For the Whump People Here:

Whumpy Things I've Managed to Squeeze into the First 13,000 words

Humiliation/embarrassment (minor)

Hyperventilation, dyspnea

Angst (minor)

Grabbed in the dark

Abducted

Restrained (but make it magic)

Magically forced to obey commands

Chin grab

Whumpy Things I've Got Planned But Haven't Written

Angst (major)

Stabbed

Various fight-related injuries I won't know till I write them

Betrayed by someone you trust

Drugged/knocked out

Humiliation/embarrassment (major)

Imprisoned

Taunted by the antagonist

More magic restraints (but turn it up to eleven)

Tortured (but make it magic)

Desperation, hitting rock bottom

A death fakeout or two or three

If you made it this far, you deserve a medal. 🥇