#found this looking through my drafts actually. apparently i do not like to be happy :)

[zer0point5ive]

saw (2004) + script // aphrodite vs. ares // ‘peripety’ series by jen mazza

[an-idyllic-novelist]

Husk with Violet Evergarden!reader scenario

warnings: aged-up!reader [early to late twenties], spoilers for episode 4 to the season finale, mentions of physical abuse and attempted drugging, violence, Husk's language, dismemberment, mentions of cannibalism.

Hey guys, and welcome to another Hazbin Hotel fics, this time featuring our grumpy bartender and one of my favorite characters, Husk! :) This is a collaborated project with not just @isuckatwritingsobenice, but also with @vikkirosko, @witch-of-the-writing-desk, and @riddle-simp, who gave me honest feedback on the rough drafts and how to make it the best fic I could create before sharing it with the world.

If you would like to see more of Husk x Violet, please do let me know know in the comments section or as an ask! Like always, bullying is not tolerated here so if there is any implication of it happening here, this scenario will be taken down immediately. If you have nothing nice to say, do not say it at all.

With that being said, sit back, relax, and let's see who will win the full house at the card tables tonight :)

Reblog to support content creators!

Husk isn’t gonna deny it. It ain’t like him to deny the truth when it’s staring at him right in the fucking face. He thinks you are a little bit of an oddball. You don’t smile, you wear the same outfit every day, and you don’t eat much either unless Niffty practically drags you to the staff’s dining room from wherever she found you hiding. Normally, it’s one of two places: out in the backyard, or the greenhouse, because you’re the hotel’s groundskeeper. And that was on your days off.

 Like Angel, you worked for an overlord, but your boss wasn’t that shitbag Valentino or Vox or Velvette. Your boss is Rosie, the owner of Rosie’s Emporium in the Cannibal Colony. You were her personal secretary. You had been on her payroll for over ten years, working from nine to five unless you had to stay later. She did not seem to mind you staying at the hotel so long as it did not affect her reputation or your work ethic in any way. 

So far you’ve kept your word. Alastor actually seemed to be happy that you were around. 

Maybe. Husk couldn’t fucking tell what that son of a bitch is thinking anymore. But back to you. 

You, who believed in Charlie’s work.

You, who participated in each activity and helped around without getting paid for your time.

You, the expressionless ex-military soldier, has been on his mind recently and he did not like it. 

He lost the ability to feel anything years ago. 

Nonetheless he continued to observe you from afar. When you weren’t busy with watering plants, you were seen in different parts around the hotel with the others. 

You would sit with the princess in the parlor, comparing ideas on what tomorrow’s group exercise should be, even when the only two ideas you’ve suggested were shot down immediately by Charlie. She didn’t like the idea of group bonding through hand-to-hand combat but loved the concept of showing appreciation to one another through handwritten letters. Vaggie approved the former. The latter? Not so much. 

In the kitchen you would go through the cookbook with Niffty and Alastor, trying to decide on tonight’s dinner.  They allowed you to help out, at least when it didn’t involve cracking eggs. Apparently you were not very good at separating the yolk. 

When Sir Pentious was away from the hotel doing God knows what, he trusted you to look after the Egg Bois until he got back. You kept them busy around the greenhouse though they tended to make a bit of a mess. 

Angel started to work extra late at the studio after his show and tell presentation. Something about making a big commercial and Val wanted to make big bucks on this new product that the Vees were launching in a week. You must have noticed that something was off about him, but you didn’t say anything to him. No words of encouragement, no comforting hand on his shoulder. All you did was clench your gloved hands into fists, watching him leave and…unsure of yourself. What you should do. 

Husk heard you asking Niffty what were some of the kid’s favorite foods about that time, and she was more than happy to help you with whatever it was you needed as long as you left the kitchen sparkling when you were done. You were concerned about the kid. Least from what he could remember. He drank a lot that day. 

When he woke up much later after falling asleep at the bar, hearing your footsteps descend down the grand staircase and towards the kitchen. Groggily, probably stupidly on his part, Husk thought it would be a great idea to know what the fuck you were up to so early in the morning. Turns out you were trying to cook something, judging from how you looked at the ratty cookbook propped up on the counter and the wide array of ingredients spread out. 

He saw you cook  finely chopped onions, garlic, and minced ground meat in the large frying pan on the left side of the stove. You stirred something in a smaller sauce pan on the right side with a wooden spoon. He saw you handle all of the ingredients with great care, placing them in a baking dish  even when you weren’t wearing your leather gloves. A small shudder crawled down his spine at how the kitchen lights bounced off of the adamantium skeletal prosthetics that acted as your hands. 

He didn’t even wanna know how exactly you lost them in the Great War. 

Everything was soon laid out, layer by layer and placed in the oven. He didn’t know he stood there for so long, even when you began to clean up the kitchen with a rag. Time ticked by slowly, and then a delicious aroma tickled his nose even as he took another swing of the half-filled booze bottle he was holding. He was about to leave you alone, knowing you’d be fine when he saw you pull out the dish with your hands and no oven mittens on, you fucking moron! Then his mind remembered something that stopped him from making an entrance. You couldn’t feel anything with your prosthetics, not even as you placed it on the stove top to let it sit. 

A couple of hours later - maybe he can’t keep track of time anymore so it might have been the following morning - he saw you giving Angel a large paper bag every morning before both of you left the hotel, and telling him to have a good day. 

Angel grudgingly thanked you later on that evening when he got back…though did say your garlic bread needed some work. The next day, he gave you a paper bag, telling you to taste real Italian grub and try to replicate it. 

Guess it became a game between the two of you, ‘cause Angel was slowly being someone real and not some fake  whiny bitch. 

As odd as you are….you cared about everyone in your own way, even when the words that came out of your mouth angered someone or made them cry, you tried. You never asked for help unless it was necessary, trying to learn everything on your own. And you were smart, Husk will give you that. 

And he…he doesn’t know if he had the heart to tell you that redemption might not be possible. Unlike him, you still carried a spark of hope. You believe in the princess. He doesn’t want to be the one to see you reach your breaking point, to be dragged into a swamp of despair and get drowned in all sorts of addictions to cope with the pain. He was…anxious. No. He was scared for you. He wanted to help you but he was afraid that by intervening, he would just make matters worse.

It was better to just stick to the sidelines with a bottle of booze and watch everything happen like the bartender Alastor wanted him to be, right? Well, turns out he was wrong. 

One night after he made Angel a drink and called him out on his bullshit for being fake, the whiny little bitch stormed out of the hotel. Vaggie tried to make him go out and bring him out, but Charlie intervened. All she asked him was to make sure that Angel was okay. Do not force him to come back if he isn't ready. Obviously judging from the distraught look on her face, something happened between the princess and Angel. 

Husk did not know what or why, and he really did not want to play the role of a goddamned babysitter. Not when it was actually a slow evening and he didn’t have to hear these fucks bitch and moan for hours on end. But Vaggie’s glare, knowing Alastor would force him to do it because he fucking can and not knowing what would happen if he actually violated the terms of their contract, he left the hotel. The first place he went to were the streets. No luck. And no one had seen him. When he moved his search to the bars, he spotted Angel going inside one of them. 

Long story short, he was going to hang back and just keep an eye on Angel getting drunk off his ass with some shady sharks in a corner booth until he saw one of them pour something into Angel’s drink. He took care of the fucker, got Angel out, and listened to him. Angel Dust was not just an act. It’s who he needs to be. Drinking and getting high is his escape. He wants to be damaged so that he won’t be Val’s favorite toy anymore. 

Then when it seemed like they came to an understanding with a song, those bastards opened fire on the streets, targeting him and wanting Angel to come back to have some ‘fun’. Yeah, fuck no. 

That was when he heard car tires screeching against the asphalt, doors opening and closing with more shouting. Husk gritted his teeth. “Shit.” He turned to Angel. “Stay down. I’ll take care of this.” He pulled out his cards, ready to hop onto the roof of the pink Volkswagen they were hiding when he heard a  shnk, a high pitched squeal, then a gurgle. 

THUD.

Shnk.

THUD.

C-crack.

THUD.

“Who the fuck is this bitch?! Kill her, kill her you stupid asshats!” 

“Holy shit, toots?! The fuck - why is she here?!” Angel cried. Husk raised his brow, craning his head as far as he could without being in range of a bullet to see what was going on. There were only two people Angel called toots and he was pretty damned sure they were back at the hotel, safe and sound. Not one of them blitzing across the street, dodging bullets and slicing enemies down with a hunter’s knife in one hand, a large carpet bag in the other. 

He blinked. Nope. He was sober. Shit. He thought as you weaved between the shitheads, disarming, decapitating, and snapping their necks in no particular order. You weren’t exaggerating when you said you were a weapon for the army.  When he saw a flash of movement from the smaller grunt, twirling a knife and aiming it for your head as you pumped lead into his friend, Husk made his move. Hopping onto top of the car and threw his cards. One cleanly sliced the asshole’s neck. 

He quickly made through the growing crowd, running towards you as he threw some dice into a hammerhead’s mouth. But when he turned his back towards them, he felt something light and strong coil around his neck, cutting off his air supply. 

Fuck. Garroting wire! Husk flailed around  scratching, kicking,  and trying to get loose but the fucker was too damned strong. Black spots began to appear in the corner of his eyes when he felt a white hot stinging pain graze his left cheek, then something warm and sticky with a metallic scent. Blood.

The body behind him dropped, and so did he, yanking the wire off  him and inhaling deep gulps of  precious oxygen. Husk looked up and saw Angel with a shit-eating grin and a Tommy Gun in his upper hands. 

“Eat lead, sucker!” The porn star cackled, firing several more bullets into the corpse and his buddies that were closing in on them. Angel grinned at him, extending a hand to help him up.”I told ya. I can handle myself, baby.” Husk felt a grin stretching his own face as the fella pulled out more weapons with more arms. Well….not something he was expecting. 

Between the three of them, they made quick work with the rest of the gang and their reinforcements. Like him and Angel, you were covered in grime and blood but you were all right. 

“Are you two all right?” You asked as you wiped off the blood from your knife with a handkerchief, the carpet bag by your feet and in pristine condition. “No limbs missing that weren’t missing before you arrived?” 

“Yeah, we’re good.” Angel said, putting away his guns and extra limbs. “More importantly, why the fuck are you out here instead of the hotel?!” He interrogated, his voice lowering an octave as he glared at you, stomping towards you. Before Husk could stop him, Angel grabbed  your cheeks with his hands and pinched them. “You know these streets are dangerous, toots! How many times do Vags and I gotta tell ya?! Come straight home when you’re done with work!” Then he blinked, his face turning white, his eyes widening in horror. “Toots,” He said slowly. “Y-you ain’t hooking up with anyone around here, are ya?!” He yelled, now pulling your cheeks outwards as if you were a cartoon character. 

You didn’t flinch from the cheek pinching or pulling; instead, you looked at him in slightly confusion. “I don’t understand. What does fishing have anything to do with this except that these men were quite literally loan sharks standing outside a nautical-themed bar?” You asked. 

“Toots.” Angel said warningly. “If you don’t give me a straight answer, I swear to fucking God I am going to yeet you off a rooftop.”

“ ‘Yeet’?” You repeated.

“[First Name], just tell us why you’re here.” Husk said, already feeling a headache coming on and in need of a drink. You turned your attention to him, then back at Angel before you spoke.

“Rosie sent me out on a last-minute errand to get fertilizer for her plants. But by the time I got there, the shop was already closed. I was on my way home when I heard the gunshots, and saw the two of you being pinned down. I was not going to leave my comrades behind when I could help them. So I did. And now,” You looked over at the bodies strewn across the street. “I have what I need. Two birds with one stone, as Rosie says.”

“Ya mean ‘kill two birds with one stone’, toots?”

“Yes.”

“So, by fertilizer, ya mean these schmucks that we just totally obliterated.”

“Yes.”

“Food for plants.”

“Carnivorous plants. And if the fertilizer is fresh, the better it is for them. Rosie loves her plants very much.” You said, pulling away from Angel and grabbed the carpet bag off of the ground, walking towards the nearest body. “If you do not want to be here, I suggest you leave quickly.” You knelt down, laying the bag down and opened it, laying out assorted tools. Bone saws, knives, a large roll of plastic wrap, etc. “Rosie says I have gotten much quicker at dismemberment.” You carefully peeled off your gloves, replacing them with gray surgical ones. 

Husk glanced at Angel, eyebrow raised. It seemed like they were thinking the same thing because the latter spoke up with a toothy grin. 

“Baby, I was a mobster long before I was a porn star. ‘Sides, hacking up a body all by yourself is gonna take you all night. Better to have more hands to get the job neater an’ faster, am I right Whiskers?” 

Husk smirked. “Can’t argue with that, Legs. Guess you’re stuck with us until this job is done. You got another bone saw in that bag of yours?” He asked with a grin, somehow…happy to actually be doing this. Who would have thought a new friendship started with cleaning up bodies?

You stared at them for a moment, obviously stunned because you must have thought they’d leave you here alone, before you pulled out two more bone saws and more rubber gloves. Your instructions were simple enough: the severed pieces couldn't be any bigger than your body, and they needed to be wrapped up tightly in the plastic wrapping or else you’d have to pay a hefty cleaning bill to get the blood out of the bottom of the bag. Angel’s extra limbs came in handy for the latter task. Between the three of you, quick work was made with the dead loan sharks and everything was loaded inside the carpet bag, and no one was the wiser. This was Hell, after all. Cannibalism, gun fights, and dismemberment was commonplace in these parts. 

You thanked him and Angel profusely, bowing your head to them before you shyly asked if they would be interested in getting a bite to eat. To Angel’s knowledge, the closest place that is still open late at night is Devil’s Diner, which is half a  block from Jackpot, the casino Husk had owned from his glory days as an overlord. The food wasn’t too bad there, and cheap too. 

Now that he thought about it, Husk had worked up more of an appetite after the fight and so did Angel. Better to do that than trying to cook something and waking up Niffty. So, the three of you went to Devil’s Diner. Of course, you tried to just have a cup of coffee, but neither he nor Angel were having it. Conditioning your body to minimize nutrients to complete a mission, his ass. 

Both he and Angel persuaded you to try the day’s special with some water plus dessert. Whatever you couldn’t finish, get a to-go box. Husk himself ordered a sandwich with chips. Angel got pancakes, sausage, strawberries, and a strong drink because he fucking deserved it. 

Conversation started slow at first, but as the orders were placed and drinks were served by their waiter, words were exchanged, and stories were shared. Angel revealed he had a little brother and more family down here, though he rarely talked to them anymore after getting into the show biz. Husk confessed that he used to be a magician in Las Vegas, showing off a trick with his cards. 

They shared a good laugh over Val’s shitty eyesight. It shouldn’t take thirty minutes to count three bills, but it fucking did for the moth man.

You told them that you were once commissioned to help a playwright finish his newest script after being on a hiatus for many years, but he had been a difficult man to work with because he had no interest in doing anything else except drinking his days away. You had actually acted out a scene on the lake where the hero would journey home to be reunited with her father after vanquishing a monster. That was when you began to understand how grief affects people in different ways…and how your actions affected the people you had killed on the battlefield. People who had families and had one-day wishes that would never be fulfilled because they died by your hand. You are here in Hell because you are, you were, a weapon to be used in war. Reconnecting with people, with your emotions…it’s a lot harder than you thought it would be. 

“That’s what being human is all about.” Husk said. “Ya make mistakes, ya regret the choices ya wish ya would have made, or should’ve made, and ya need to live with it.” He knew that better than anyone. 

“The old timer’s got a point but look at how far you’ve come!” Angel exclaimed, spreading his arms out as he began listing all the good things you have done and accomplished since you came to the hotel, though you still needed to learn how to bake real Italian bread, not just heat up the cheap frozen ones in the oven. Husk silently agreed with him, taking another swing of his whiskey. In the end, you got a to-go box, but Angel said he could take it back with him to the hotel. You still needed to deliver the body parts to your cannibal superior and Husk said he’d go with you. But you insisted that you would be fine on your own, and that he and Angel should get some rest. 

“Rosie will not let me stay long in the emporium with how late it already is. She’s very particular about keeping the lights on after business hours.” You said, the corners of your mouth tugging downwards into a frown as your gaze fell upon his wings. “Husk…you were twitching a little and I heard your spine crack earlier, and your voice sounded a little raspy. I do not know what the cause of your ailments beyond the scuffle with those loan sharks could be because I am not a doctor…but it would be better if you and Angel took it easy for the rest of the night.” 

Keep in mind that Husk had once been an overlord. Yes, he’s been out of the game for a while, he won’t deny it. But he was not going to admit that you might be right.  “There’s nothin’ to worry about, I’ll be fine. If I can handle a fight, taking you where you need to go will be a walk in the park.” He grumbled, ignoring Angel’s snickering. 

He watched you raise your hand, fingers outstretched towards one of his wings, and then you pulled it away to clench your hand into a loose fist. Husk saw your hesitancy isn’t because you were disgusted at the sight of them, or his appearance. Hell, you had more bloodstains on your clothes than him and Angel combined. No. You were hesitating because you were afraid that your touch might hurt him, or make the pain he was feeling worse. 

Husk grinned as he grabbed your wrist, pulling it forward and carefully coiling the gloved fingers around the outer part of the left wing near his forearm to give it a squeeze. “See?” He flexed the muscles. “I’m fine. You ain’t got nothin’ to worry about.” It took him a second to realize how impulsive his actions were, seeing how your eyes widened and hearing Angel release a low, teasing whistle, muttering “Kinky~!” under his breath. Great. The kid wasn’t going to let this go, not even after a few drinks. Shit. Fuck. 

He tried to ignore the warmth flooding his face as he kept his gaze on you until you nodded your head, removing your hand from his wing. You were convinced that he was more than fine to accompany you back to Cannibal Colony, at least for the moment. You turned to Angel. “Are you going to be okay, heading back to the hotel on your own?”

Angel smiled toothily. “Toots, you should know me by now. Sex isn’t the only thing I’m good at.” He winked, holding up the to-go boxes as he turned on his heel, waving his extra hands over his shoulder. “See ya back at the bar! Ya still owe me a drink, Husker~!” Now that he left the diner, it was time for the two of you to make your exit. 

You walked down the steps and looked at him. “Ready?”

Husk nodded. “Yeah.” He then held out his paw to you. “Let’s get going.” You nodded, placing your hand in the center of his own, covering the golden-heart shaped paw  before he scooped you up in his arms, one claw under your legs and the other around your shoulders. You stared at him.

“What-”

“Hang on tight.” Husk did not give you a chance to respond, unfurling his wings to their full length before putting all of his weight on his back leg, catapulting the two of you into the crimson skies of the Pride Ring. Walking was fine and all, but as you mentioned, it was already pretty late. Why waste more time when he could fly there? 

So here you were, held like a princess with one arm wrapped around the carpet bag and your hand placed on his shoulder. But instead of screaming your head off or pleading with him to land somewhere, your attention was elsewhere. You were captivated with the multi-colored pin pricks of light down below,  your mouth partly open and [Eye Color] irises widened by a fraction. It was obvious that you hadn’t seen Hell from above. Or maybe you hadn’t traveled by air before. Either way, seeing such an expression on your face, one that wasn’t calm or expressionless like a doll who lived by someone else’s order.

You looked like a living, breathing human who had her own thoughts and could find beauty in the most bizarre of places. 

It almost made Husk consider extending this flight for a little longer until he realized he’d have to explain to you in great detail as to why he did decide to do it. So he brushed it off, and followed your instructions to your destination. 

Twenty minutes later, the two of you arrived at the stone steps leading up to the glass double doors of Rosie’s Emporium. The dimly lit streets were mostly empty, the bars were still open and echoed with raucous laughter and jazz. It was tempting to slip inside there for a drink, but Husk wasn’t too keen on being around cannibalistic drunks. Alcoholic he might be, he wasn’t that stupid. And he didn’t want you to get in trouble with the overlord who ran this place. She was your boss, not his. 

He watched you put a hand into your coat pocket and pulled out a small golden key. You put it in the dead bolt, twisting it to the left before pushing the door open. “Miss Rosie?” You called out, stepping inside the darkened establishment. “Miss Rosie, it is me. I am back.” 

A moment of silence enveloped the place, but only briefly because soon a tall, thin woman in a burgundy dress with an oversized hat and feathers materialized in front of you. She was at least two or three heads taller than you, smiling down with rows of sharp, gray teeth and pitch black orbs. “Oh there you are, I was startin’ to really get worried! Did John give you everything for my precious little sprouts?”

You quickly explained what had happened, how you could not see John because he had closed the shop by the time you got there but the fertilizer you collected from a gun fight you got into and came out victorious should be more than enough. Rosie was all but delighted, twirling in a small circle as she cooed.

“Ohh, I knew it was a good idea to hire you from the moment you came for the interview! I wish I could’ve seen you at work, using that bone saw and hacking away at corpses, but there’s always another day~! You know how many people come in wishing to have their husbands or wives ripped from limb to limb, at least the ones that taste bad! Ah?” She stopped dancing, craning her long neck to stare at him. “Who’s this you brought with you, [First Name]?” She looked over her shoulder, wagging a finger at you with a raised brow. “Come now, I know I said I wanted you to find a good fella someday, but this one’s way too scruffy for you and you’re much too young for him! Oh, I’m just kidding, I know you’re dedicated to your job! Well? Introduce us!”

You did, introducing him to the overlord as Husk and the hotel’s bartender. Alastor must have told her about him because she immediately called him ‘Alastor’s kitty cat’ and ‘how he used to be such a sophisticated-looking fella until he gambled against Alastor’. She laughed. “Well, small world, after all! [First Name], be a dear and take that bag into the back, will you? I’ll feed the little monsters myself, and you can go home! Oh, did you want some pinky fingers to go? I’ve got plenty of them and you probably didn’t eat dinner again, am I right?”

“Understood. And no thank you, though I will take up on the offer to try one of those roasted legs next time.” Husk almost gagged at your monotone words and Rosie’s cackle, but he had to keep his composure. As far as he knew, you were not a cannibal. And if you were…well, you probably wouldn’t have gone out of your way to help him and Angel, or at least order something from the Cannibal’s Section at the diner instead of force feeding yourself on the daily special. 

You might have only been gone for a few minutes, but it was awkward to stand near Rosie, the way she smiled at him like she was thinking about adding him to her menu for not dressing up in a vintage outfit. At least he hoped not. He could barely contain his relieved sigh when you appeared again, hands empty with no bag in sight. 

“It’s done.”

“Wonderful~! Now, you march up to bed as soon as you get in the door young lady! No staying up late!” She said, following the two of you to the door. “Give my regards to Alastor and tell that man he must come back soon! These halls have lost their sparkle without his lively presence! Oh! Before I forget~!” She snapped her fingers, and in a puff of dark red smoke, a large wad of bills materialized in your hands. “Here’s your paycheck! I know it’s a little early but I have a very important task for you to do tomorrow!” She grinned. “Go to town and buy yourself some new clothes for work!”

You faltered. “But -”

“Tomorrow is your day off I know, and I really, really love your enthusiasm when you try to come in to help around, but a proper lady of society cannot live on just one dress and a pair of boots! Oh, and you will also need to get a Hellphone in case something like this happens again! No ifs, ands, or buts! If Alastor throws a fit about it, I’ll talk to him! Now, shoo! Husker, be a dear and get my darling worker back to that hotel safely, all right?” She added with a wink.

Husk grunted exasperatedly but did not say a word. The last thing he wanted to do was go pissing off an overlord who just happened to be the Boss’ friend. So he just nodded, and followed you out of the door. When it shut behind them with a click, things got…awkward. Now that you weren’t carrying around a bag full of body parts, there was no need to fly all the way back to the hotel. Or at least that he thought you were thinking. 

But he told you that he didn’t mind, since Charlie was probably already worried about the two of you even if Angel had somehow managed to persuade her otherwise. So…you agreed, albeit hesitantly. Husk didn't waste any more time. He scooped you up in his arms and took off into the night skies, though with this being the Pride Ring, there was really no way to tell if it was day or night anymore. Cannibal Colony soon became another darkened spot, getting smaller and smaller until it disappeared from sight. 

As soon as the two of you made it back to the hotel, Husk had no doubt everyone would be giving him shit. Angel would make comments on his little ‘date’ went, which he’ll deny in every possible way, and the princess might be cryin’ from anxiety or relief knowing that two of you were all right. But that was then. This is now. And…he’s come to like holding you in his arms. 

“Husk?”

“Yeah?” He felt the arms around his neck tighten slightly…but not that it wasn’t too uncomfortable. It felt…okay. Like you were trying to say something, but you struggled to find the right words to say without sounding like an ass. 

“Thank you…for everything.”

His lips stretched into a grin. "You're welcome." 

He felt the cold of your palms, it would seem, through the gloves, but it was not so important. Because as the two of you flew back to the place you called home, he saw you smiling down at the Pentagram in wonder, whispering the places you had visited and or wondered what they were or if he knew anything about them, to which he either answered yes or no. It was such a small smile, but how could he not commit not it to his memory? 

And maybe, just maybe, it wouldn’t be so bad to get a drink with you on a night around town. Or make one for you at his bar. He knew how to make a good non-alcoholic pina colada, even an alcoholic version of it. But who knows? He’ll take things one step at a time, and see what happens. 

What Husk did not realize at the time, not too far in the distant future, you would be the one to close the gap between them…and there would be something more between the two of you. Something that made his days in Hell just a little brighter. 

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[maggplays]

Bio? Something like that.

How did I start modding? Literally no one has asked this, but here's my story, don't worry it's not long... I guess that depends on what your definition of “long” is, haha! Hang on, here we go.

On a random day in January, 2024, a few days before my birthday, I might add... I woke up to stars in my right eye. A few days later, I was told I had a very rare injury and it would never heal. Those are not words an artist/gamer wants to hear! Long story short, I am now legally blind in my right eye. If you think, oh that's not a huge deal, you can still see. Humor me, get a cheap pirate eyepatch, put that on, then pour yourself a cup of coffee. Not as easy as you thought, right? Depth perception. It’s a thing. Anyway, on with the story. Suffice it to say, I was depressed. Majorly. Then, through some random conversation somewhere, I found Stardew Valley.

Perfect! 2D animation, cute pixel art, story that's not sugar-coated anime, I love it! Got to year 3, TBH I've never played past year 3 because ADHD, and realized the dialogue was quite lacking. Then I discovered mods. What the-, it's a freakin' goldmine! Downloaded a lot of things, mostly dialogue, and tossed half of them. While playing through a Sebastian run, I saw it. Oh. My. God. It's a coding error glaring at me in my dialogue box. This is NOT acceptable. I tried to ignore it, but then it happened again. Okay, time for some investigation. I opened the folder and found... json files. Interesting, I wasn't entirely clueless since I do know HTML code from back when the internet was a baby, Facebook had no ads, and dinosaurs roamed the earth. Okay, okay, the internet was more like a spoiled toddler. Yes, I'm old. Shut up. But I digress. It didn't take long to discover the misplaced punctuation and go on my merry reality-avoiding way. Until I got bored again.

I looked for more Seb mods, but there were like seven. Three were yandere, not my jam, and only 2 were updated for 1.6 and were dialogue-only. Solution? Make my own mod for myself. I spent six weeks downloading mods, learning code, Googling to very little effect, writing dialogue, learning how to make an event, discovering I knew nothing, and on and on. The perfect distraction from the whole eye thing. I finished a decent draft, loaded it up, and praise Yoba, it worked! And on we play. At some point, I saw a comment complaining about the lack of Sebastian dialogue mods. Huh, yep, they're right. Too bad. Oh. Well, I guess I could load this thing I made, it's really just my own internal story monologue while playing the game, I'm NOT a writer, and most people probably won't get it. But I did spend a lot of time on this, and maybe someone out there will like it. Heck, no skin off my nose since it's free. So I took a deep breath, made peace with my inner demons, and threw it out into the void of Nexus, expecting it to be swallowed up and ignored. That... didn't happen.

In the first few hours, several people downloaded it. Huh, Nexus must have a decent search algorithm. That was literally all I thought about it. The next day, 300 downloads. And comments! Mostly positive with the exception of one wild demand I subsequently ignored. At one week, it had 3,000 unique downloads. I was floored, 3,000 weirdos downloaded my mod. Add to that, people seemed to actually like it! I've never gotten so much positive feedback for anything in my life. Seriously. Apparently, my oddball internal monologue, thanks ADHD, is quite entertaining. Heck, might as well make another one... and here we are. Yes, I've gotten negative comments and unreasonable demands, but I do my best to ignore them and practice staying positive. Trolls be damned! It's a lot harder to do that for yourself than for other people, turns out.

So, bottom line, found something interesting? Try it! Does it make you happy? Keep doing it! Even if it's only for yourself, do the thing and let it make you smile. Share it with the world if you're so inclined. Get out there and kick ass!!

[moonlight-prose]

Ahh I am so in love your 𝑰𝒏 𝑳𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝑾𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝑳𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝑾𝒆𝒆𝒌𝒆𝒏𝒅 - what a great idea!! Could I please request Joel Miller + clumsy attempts at flirting? 💕 So excited to see what fics you share!!

BE STILL MY FOOLISH HEART

a/n: the thought of joel being clumsy with flirting is absolutely how i'd see it going down. he's messy and fucks up sometimes and it's so human it just makes me want to smile stupidly thinking about it. this one in particular has been sitting in my drafts for quite some time, so i am finally happy to finish it. i hope you enjoy it babes!

summary: "yet somehow—despite you never realizing it—joel always ended up with you."

word count: 0.9k+

pairing: joel miller x reader

warnings: not explicit, joel tripping over his words, flirty joel, softness, the beginning of more.

There was going to be a party. Not a small gathering of older folks that normally happened around the holidays, but an actual party. With alcohol and music and fun. The type of event that you hadn’t been to since well before the outbreak. Sure, you’d been an adult at that time, the years having passed you by long ago, but there was something about the prospect of fun that made you feel your past self peek out.

You weren’t sure exactly how it would happen. What they planned, but you could see yourself enjoying at least some of it. If nothing came of this so-called party, then there was always the bar where you knew many—if not all—the adults would wind up before the night came to an end.

The sun had just begun to stay out a bit longer during the day, giving way to some warmth in the midst of the frozen atmosphere. You wanted to savor it for as long as it was around—knowing just how brutal winter time was. But it still wasn’t warm enough to forgo your favorite denim jacket. It was old, worn in and nearly falling to pieces, but you refused to part with it.

It had seen you through the worst of the outbreak and still continued to last. For some reason it reminded you of yourself.

Entering the stables you headed straight for the little notebook stuck to the wall—your name top of the list to help clean the horses. You didn’t mind the task. Time with the gentle animals gave you an opportunity to think, to find some peace amidst the destruction and decay of the world.

“Busy?”

You paused, glancing over your shoulder at the man who walked in. Joel smiled softly, the same look he always seemed to give you whenever you ran into one another. Apparently you hadn’t checked the name beside yours. He was scheduled to work the same day too. Of course, you didn’t mind. Why would you? He was kind, helped when you needed it, and more often than not was considered a loner in this small town.

At least that’s what Tommy called him jokingly when you spoke. Yet somehow—despite you never realizing it—Joel always ended up with you. Whether that was doing chores around town, or making runs to go hunting. You had half a mind to ask Tommy if it was his doing, but thought against it.

It wasn’t your place to complain.

“Not yet,” you said, grinning when he moved to sign his name. “Did you hear?”

He glanced at you, eyes a little wider than before and mouth slightly parted. You found it was difficult to tear your eyes away from his plush bottom lip. “Hear?”

“The party.”

He chuckled—the sound echoing in your chest until you could feel it in your heart. “Oh that.”

You laughed, grabbing for the supplies needed. “That. You sound like an old man Joel.”

“I am an old man.”

“Well…I’m old too but it still sounds fun.”

He shrugged. “Yeah I suppose.”

“Are you agreeing with me about me being old? Or the fun part?” Biting down on your lower lip when he nearly dropped the brush you handed him, his cheeks flushing a dark crimson.

“No I’m—you’re not—ah shit. Darlin’ I didn’t mean you’re old—”

Laughing, you nudged him in the shoulder and headed into one of the stables, greeting the horse with a soft coo and pat on his side. “Calm down Joel I was kidding.”

“Right,” he huffed, following your lead. A beat of silence passed between you two before he decided to break it—wanting nothing more than to hear the sound of your voice again. “Are you uh…you goin’ to the thing?”

You shrugged, not meeting his eyes entirely. “I was thinking about it.”

His chance was now or never and Joel honestly would have rather taken on several infected than try to come off as some type of suave. He hadn’t dated since before the outbreak. Shit he couldn’t even call what he did dating. It was merely him trying to fill an empty space for Sarah, because he thought she needed it. Yet deep down he realized all she really needed was her dad being there for her.

But now he was alone. Ellie needed him, but not as much as she used to. Which meant he now lived in his big old house all by himself—wondering if maybe…you’d like to live there too. With him.

“Do you got…” He let out a long breath, trying to calm the racing of his heart. He felt like a fucking teenager again and you seemed to be enjoying the nervousness that radiated off him. “Do you want to go with me?”

You tried to stop your smile from growing, but gave in once you saw the sheer panic in his eyes. It suddenly occurred to you why he always ended up paired with you. All his attempts at conversation, his stuttering comments. He was flirting with you. Heat rushed to your cheeks, eyes alight with a wonder that hadn’t existed since you were young.

“Are you asking me on a date, Joel?”

He stuttered, his eyes quickly glancing to the horse that let out a puff of hot air from its nose. “I um…”

To put him out of his misery, you stepped closer, catching him entirely off guard as you lightly gripped the front of his coat. “Pick me up at seven?”

He nodded, mouth parted in awe as you pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. “Sure thing darlin’.”

[clovenhoofedjester]

jellicle lineups; part 1/4

hi catsblur ! today i am presenting to you the fruits of my labor. my own little versions of the jellicle cats; obviously based on the replica designs With Fun Little Twists ! such as, they are not naked. ramble below the cut, both on designs and some personal thoughts on the characters

these designs are very much first-draft, subject to change, blah blah. you will very likely be seeing me drawing them differently if i post more of them. i just. urrbhhh. i had 2 draw them....

and the clothes ! even though they're very feline i draw them a bit too human-y for the nakedness to not look consistently weird. i will be drawing them closer to the stage designs in some instances but for rn. clothes. it was a fun exercise in character design too

the kittens are all young adults, think 18-20 ! as much as i love headcanons like demeter being sillabubs mother, it shrimply will not work out timeline-wise. so headcanons like that will be delegated to like... siblings and stuff

victoria | 🍧 💌 🩰

i started out with victoria's design not only because of her being the Main Kitten, but because she has such a concise and clear aesthetic to me. she actually started out with a simple pastel brown dance practice fit before i decided that i wanted to make the outfits ornate(ish) and ended up with a proper ballerina getup

i also quite like when victoria is not just solid white with some grey (love ones that are more yellow or brown) so i colored her fur with some blue and pink-ish tones not only to add more depth but to resemble the trans flag LOL

and i wanted to try something different with making her a bit more lavender than baby pink. i also based her overall look on obc victoria, portrayed by cynthia onrubia :^]

to move on to character interpretation, i think victoria is partially deaf and mute. she primarily communicates through dance. as one of the oldest kittens she'd be 19 in human years

plato | 💐 🕯 🍬

plato's design doesnt stray too far from his standard replica design but i tried to add my own flair . i tried to keep the creepy porcelain doll aesthetic going w their face added some more depth like some other designs with different colors and bold face stripes

i also really like the outfit i chose for them. the flower in their hair and on their shirt is a peony which is a popular wedding flower :") because im a sucker for platoria and very much subscribe to the idea that the ball we see is their funny cat wedding in a way

the outfit is based on standard ballerino costumes but i tried to stray from it with the silky half-skirt thing and pointe shoes. lets go queer cats lets go

i think plato is also very quiet and that's why he and victoria were so drawn to each other. i also quite like the idea that he was a bit of a troubled stray before he found the jellicles. they would be 20 in human years

electra |⚡🥭 🔔

boy i STRUGGLED with electra's clothes i struggled so hard. i think i'm happy with what i ended up with though—i originally gave her the babydoll dress that sillabub has (inspired by artsed electra) but figured that i wanted at least one of the girls to be more tomboyish/butchy. thank you to that one production which apparently had electra be one of the raffish crew and get in on some of the boys' choreography

im very happy with what i did with her fur colors as well. silly little tortoiseshell :] its based on a nonrep but i have no idea which one. enjoy her freckles too

i think electra deserves to be a little spunky. [whispers] i also think shes bombalurinas little sister. she'd be 18 in human years

etcetera | 🎠 🍯 🏅

i needed at least one cat with a circus aesthetic. say hello to my magnum opus: jacked tumbler acrobat etcetera. it was only a matter of time until someone said fuck it and let one of the girls perform lifts and stuff. this is mostly because ive always really liked how shes usually the cat to do the flying trapeze bit and wanted to push it further

i also struggled SO EXTREMELY HARD with making her colors look nice and makeup distinctive but i figured it out in the end—thank you obc cettie for the mismatched eyeshadow and such. i also wanted to give a cat a short bob type of head fur/hairstyle and she fit the bill

nothing much about specific character notes other than like... i want to make her related to some of the cats but cannot for the life of me figure out who 2 assign. also she'd be around 19 in human years, a couple months younger than vic

sillabub | 🌻 🧋 🎼

i think of all of these little fellas sillabub is my favorite. several elements are balanced in her design—the standard jemima with a darker/reddish palette, the more softer and lighter sillabub design, the red eye patch from il sistina jemima, and the overall aesthetic of obc jemima with the big hair and wide, deepset eyes

i've seen her typical design critiqued by some people and wanted to incorporate those critiques by making her look less similar to demeter/bombalurina, adding more red to her body fur, and making her makeup more distinct and less... wooo girl give us nothing. and i included the squiggly on her collarbone

i also really REALLY love her overall aesthetic of sweet kindhearted girl NAMED AFTER A DEMON WITH SHADOW THE HEDGEHOG COLORING AND GIGANTIC SPIKED COLLAR !!!! so i decided to push it by making the collar definitely too big for her, giving her a slightly "edgy" outfit and making her hair resemble devil horns

as for character stuff, i think she has magical powers though i haven't developed exactly What they are yet. beyond her sweet exterior they trouble her. [whispers] i also think shes demeters little sister. she would be 18 in human years, a few months younger than electra and tumblebrutus

pouncival | 🌱 🩹 🍵

i struggled with pouncival's clothing design like i did electra's because i didn't go into drawing him with a particular gimmick in mind. but i think i'm happy with the casual formal look. it makes him look like such a kind young man even if he's a little shit

i did have a lot of fun trying to make his makeup distinctive from tumblebrutus'—so many fellas with brown eyepatches ! so his colors are more dark and striking. i also tried to make him look less like Typical Cis Man by giving him a bit of black lipstick

enjoy his freckles too

but like. i think hes literally such a little cis guy. nothing else for me to add for my specific interpretation of him it's all laid out. this guy fucking loves rocket league, fishing and chess. he'd be 19 in human years

tumblebrutus | 🎡 🥊 🍦

SWEET TUMBLEBRUTUS. i think drawing him here gave me a soft spot for him. with his outfit mirroring cettie's i didn't much struggle with that. his colors are also based on obc tumblebrutus

when i was first conceptualizing my own versions of the cats i wanted at least one of them asides from grizabella to have wavy fur. and idk what it is, maybe it's the lack of content for him, but i was really drawn to the idea of curly tumblebrutus!

i wanted their design to be distinctive from pouncival's so i made their colors softer, kinda watercolor-y. OH AND THEIR FUR IS ALSO MEANT TO BE A LITTLE TRANS FLAG COLORED

as for character, i think he is also a bit troubled, as a son of grizabella's. you heard me, people. i'm probably the first person ever to headcanon that. he'd be 18 in human years

AND THAT'S ABOUT IT ! thank you for reading this far, have a great day and stay tuned for more designs in the days to come !

[pool-floatie]

I feel the need to share my g/t experience with erryone since its been on my mind for a while and I find it interesting how early on It showed up.

Ever since I was a little kid, probably 5-7 years old, I had little daydreams occasionally about giants taking me to their houses or a park or wherever and they would tease me and have fun with me, I was always scared of course because apparently ive always liked this fearplay bullshit, but i still found it exhillirating and fun. Of course it wasnt romantic or anything until I got older, just,,, like a really tall roller coaster, scary but exciting.

When I started reading, i found one of the borrowers books, i think my mom actually got it for me (maybe i had mentioned the daydreams??) ! I think it was The littles and The Biggs families, but yeah. I loved it and i tried to find more but they werent at my school library 😭 so Iworked with what I had, a book and a dream. (lol cringe-)

While i was in 4th- 6th grade I had kind of repressed it, I still thought about it on occasion but i started to realise that nobody else had that interest and it was just a wierd thing with me... Until I watched the BFG (cliche right 🙄) it was when the movie came out and people were talking about it! For a while it held the title of my favorite movie just so I could talk about it when people asked that particular icebreaker.

One night in like... 7th grade I had a dream that i was at church (lol cringefail imagine being religious...) and I picked up a piece of paper inviting people to come test out an experiment... Then i saw a flash And somewhere from the depths of my memories, my brain pulled out one of my old daydream scenarios.

I was in a laboratory with several other humans and we were all in a big glass box. Surrounding us were giants who took us out of the container and gave us baths, undressing us and scrubbing us down with toothbrushes so we would be clean for the examination.

I was taken away to a desk and meticulously examined from head to toe, the giant tried to probe me with questions but I was too shocked to speak.

Thats all I can remember but I was so fascinated by the dream that I started telling my family about it, now of course nobody wanted to hear me talk about my dream for 20 minutes, so my mom encouraged me to write it down.

And oh hell did I write.

My first long form writing stemmed from a dream I had, i wrote for months, of course, I was 13 do it was flaming garbage but I was so happy about it and thought it was a masterpiece.

So naturally as anyone would, I emailed it to my english teacher.

She never responded.

I wonder why.

To this day I pray that she never opened it, her emails being too cluttered with important school things that it got lost and never crossed her eyes.

But still, it was through this little writing that I began to realise my potential (lol cringe origin story-)

I still have the draft of the story, its plot and characters were a good foundation, and perhaps one day i will look it over, change a few things, get cancer and die.

During quarantine I discovered Sanders Sides, which led me down a fanfiction rabbit hole, which led me to tumblr, which led me to a creator called delimeful , not sure if they want to be tagged in this so I wont... They wrote some marvelous G/t Sanders sides fanfic and i soon realised... This is a community, it wasnt just them.. There was, so /much/ so many artists and writers that shared this niche interest, a community of people who g e t i t .

It started slow, I continued interacting with the tumblr community ( hell, the husk of my old blog might still roam this site (|||O⌓O;) )

Only ever looking for safe, wholesome g/t.

But where was the stomach-dropping exhilliration I had felt before, that rollercoaster feeling? What was missing??

I needed the fearplay, and in looking for it i stumbled into vore and that dynamic, playing with pred/prey and even more teasing. I was hesitant at first.

But lo and behold that was the gawd damn ticket. I started to write again, finding new stories and creators and tropes galore! I learned about the community, the terms and the subgenres!

Finally I gained confidence in my writing ability through a class that helped me grow my skills and practice.

And I eventually decided i could share all my hard work. All this time I had spent worrying if i should just keep it to myself, but i reminded myself of all the non beta read and unfinished work i had seen, and looking back at my own I was less afraid, people still liked it even then... So what could they say about mine ?

There ya go, thats my,, I guess life story told through the g/t Timeline.

Hopefully I was vague enough to not give away any behind the scenes, yall will never know who I am 😈😈😈

Also im not trying to bash any creators, I appreciate everyone who contributes to the community with anything they have.

[gifsbysimplysonia]

Happy hoelidays, lovely! ❄️ Just a small gift for you! ❤️

—

Even after months and months of being with Ari, it still crept up on you sometimes, being so flustered over how completely smitten he was with you.

He was a straight up Greek god come to life, he could have anyone that he wanted, and he wanted you.

Talk about hitting the beautiful beefcake lottery.

You smiled a little at the thought before your eyes wandered to the other end of the sofa.

The foot rub Ari was giving you was so concentrated and good, that you expected to find him staring at your feet, all furrow-browed and focused.

And he was focused, but on your face, which had those very familiar-by-now pterodactyl-sized butterflies taking flight in your belly.

"Stopppp," you whined, sinking lower against the arm of the sofa as you resisted the urge to hide.

Sometimes it was a lot having Ari look at you like he wanted to eat you and protect you forever, all at once.

His laugh was quiet and warm, the look in his eyes tender as he smiled and shrugged. "I can’t help it."

"You always look like you want to eat me," you blurted, your face burning as you stifled an embarrassed groan.

"Oh I do." Ari waggled his eyebrows at you, but the look in his eye was…sinful. Wanting.

Desire made manifest.

Whining some more, despite the way your pussy fluttered under his avid attention, you pulled one of the throw pillows over your face.

You felt Ari's hands retreat from your feet, and the sofa shift under the movement of his big body, and then he was tugging the pillow from your face and tossing it aside before crawling over you and sinking his warm weight against you.

"Deal with it, honey," he murmured as he caressed the curve of your cheek with his knuckles. "It’s what you signed up for, forever."

He reached for your hand, gently holding it aloft and gazing down at the diamond sparkling on your ring finger.

Pressing a kiss to your skin, he smiled at you, your favorite kind of smile, all soft and doting and just for you.

You went pliant then, your nerves and embarrassment fading away entirely as you tipped you face up and caught Ari's lips against yours.

Ok so guess what, Siri?? I just went through my DRAFTS programming posts for the rest of December and GUESS WHAT I FOUND??? Lmao apparently cuz you sent this a while back, it saved to the date that you SENT it, not the date I feedbacked and SAVED it to my drafts so this is repetitive, but here are my original reactions, lmao. I'm sorry I'm SUCH a mess.

OMG @stargazingfangirl18 is an angel! Back at work today and so I'm on Desktop. I have NO IDEA why my mobile app doesn't let me know when I have Inbox stuff / asks but I visit Tumblr dot com on Desktop and saw I had one so I went to see and THIS is what was waiting for me?!?!

Siri! How incredibly kind and thoughtful are you?? Also, are you psychic? LoL cuz

The foot rub Ari was giving you was so concentrated and good

I've been having problems with my feet lately so THIS? Actually sounded like Heaven (although it's funny cuz I have a "thing" about feet that my mom thinks comes from her keeping me in booties all the time as a baby lol but if I cared enough about someone, I suppose I'd let them see my weird Hobbit feet and nobody is changing Ari's mind about ANYTHING)

very familiar-by-now pterodactyl-sized butterflies

If you're not psychic, you might be intuitive cuz I constantly use the word "pterodactyl" in my life (just usually to describe my hiccups lmao)

Sometimes it was a lot having Ari look at you like he wanted to eat you and protect you forever, all at once.

The way I would ABSOLUTELY POOF into Thanos dust lol just on the spot!

Desire made manifest.

This is just an excellent turn of phrase, I really love it :)

And I'ma always mark out for any mention of "pu$$y flutter" because I never knew that phrase til your Tumblr tags and it brings me joy every time I read it now lol

Siiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiigh. Siri, I am so unworthy of your attention and kindness, but I am so grateful to have this sweet drabble! Thank you so so so so much for thinking of me. Honestly makes me a bit teary eyed cuz I just don't come across that kind of thoughtfulness often.

[sydmarch]

@ignitingthesky sorry for the tag if you don't care about this feel free to ignore LOL but i was deep in my drafts and i FOUND THE DREAM JOURNAL ENTRY that i wrote immediately after waking up from that dream about michael the reaper we were talking about the other day! i didn't even know for sure if i actually wrote an entry or not so i cant believe i stumbled on this right after talking about it. clearly i was deep into my spn rewatch when i had this dream bcus the characters keep popping up LOL

dream a a reaper woke up around 540 went back to sleep. saw a face in the window across from my living room working w a headset on. then started seeing a tall tall man outside looking through the window in to do his work. like stretched out two stories tall. I was some kind of deal maker& I had a client come back after recently making a deal to make one again bcus she wanted to see him. but then the woman was Sam? and he wanted to fuck the reaper. was talking to Claire about it she was like nah I'm too short and he's like I'm taken but he thought he was gonna die soon on a mission so her wanted to. I'd never seen him I kept glancing out. eventually he came over to me and was like why do you keep looking over. and I was like I've never seen you before I'm all this time. he said he thought it was bcus my client has been wanting to see him he was revealed but he had been there. he had like olive skin and shaggy dark hair. he made himself average height and we were in this like bar and he was introducing himself. he was telling me abt some creatures apparently Sam and Dean were like... sex god's? & I was like Hm maybe I should give them a try (???). he had purplish hair now. then he showed me to his room on the fourth floor it was small and hoarder like there was a ton of stuff abt writing. reference books like whole owns about the weights of dogs. and stuff. some kanuscript for a spn episode or fanfic? he had latter's taped up from like.. an ice man and other supernatural friends wishing him a happy birthday and stuff. his name was Michael. wandered through another random apartment in my way back but this one was L ik e a child's room. there was something about an older Claire w a younger Claire rushing down a river. older one hadn't planned on stopping but then needed to save her friend Jimmy from going too fast but fell asleep in the water woke up and he was smashed against a car and his eyes were gone, a train came through even tho it was water and crushed him. then I think I was waking up at my place and peeking out for him again and he was gone. then at the couch at my parents place looking out the window in the living room. it was snowy and there was a restaurant built like ten feet from the dog pool but it was really like.. a pet supply store? but tiny and cozy

[trickster-whim]

I managed to get out of the house the other week and took a walk to Goodwill, and there was kind of a lot of stuff there! But unfortunately for me, I got super sick immediately after. I still wear a mask everywhere I go (I was wearing one on this trip also), and I do try to social distance as much as possible, no movies or restaurants or parties or whatever. But my parents don't. So my parents got covid and gave it to my sister and me, and we've been sick for days.

But that's just me being bitter!! Let's see what Goodwill had for me. (I can barely even remember when this was, so it's gonna be mostly brief, but I'm mostly not sick anymore, so I'm just getting it out of my drafts)

Most tempting was a pile of about a dozen NaNaNa Surprise Maxwell Danes. I wanted to get him when he was in stores, so I obviously picked one up, but unfortunately I didn't need a dozen. At least not for (an admittedly very reasonable) $5.50 each. I don't love his shirt, but I always want more boy dolls, so I'm glad I got one at least.

Why was I so tempted by this little rocking horse?

Good face...

...

This actually made me a little sad to see. I used to be really into Harry Potter before I grew media criticism skills and also JKR went mask off as a terrible person, and I remember being so into the board games. I still miss the style of the first couple books, but now whenever I see HP I mostly just feel jaded and bitter.

(It also reminds me of shopping at KB Toys. I remember digging through bins of discounted Quirrells and trolls, looking for catgirl Hermione... I have some regrets in life, I must say...)

Anyway! There were a lot of tempting fashion dolls in the bagged doll section. I love a Snow White, especially an emotionless mask like this, and there was also a Belle. It's kind of interesting looking at disney dolls from before the very standardized Disney Store or Hasbro/Mattel look of today, if that makes sense. Some of them are just hunks of plastic in the shape of princesses, and some barely resemble their characters at all. I just didn't need any dolls, so I mostly just looked.

Chomp!

I was tempted by these chubby babies...

Hey, good lookin'.

It wasn't actually clear whether the mannequin bottom was for sale or just the jeans, but it did startle me, because we don't have mannequins here.

I found this wedding bag with just... the most comfortable- and happy-looking couple... They look so glad to be there...

Cool tote bag I found. I have no idea where Wheatsville Co-op is, but it's been almost 30 years since this 20 year anniversary.

I think this was a shower curtain, and I gotta say... yellow splotches was a bold choice.

If I had been looking for a table runner, this nwt ouija board one would a been tempting. I think it was $13, though, and I didn't need it.

I think this was a paperweight? It was some sort of architectural blueprint made out of a thick plastic and formed into a sort of ball around a weight. It was kinda quirky, and I'm actually pretty curious about it. It might just be mundane, but I don't think I've ever seen one before.

Gotta take a photo of blowjob cat in the wild.

This skirt was sooo tempting. It was a candy corn dream, but also I didn't want to spend $10 on a skirt. Apparently it originally cost $69 (nice), and I'm not sure why. It is super tempting, though.

There was a CD case hanging up, and these were the only two CDs in the whole book. Sounds like a party.

Was I tempted by this plush bear-dog-thing? Yeah :p But it didn't have a price, and I have too many plushies to bring all of them home, especially if I have to ask someone how much it costs, even if it's vintage... I like the yellow and brown, though. Very bold.

So I didn't get any of that stuff, but I did get:

Wow, what a terrible photos. I got one Maxwell, a copy of The Game of Sunken Places (one of my all-time faves) for the little free library, a stack of DVDs for my sister because she's been looking for them, a Breyer stockhorse, and a free local paper with an advertisement for Sabo, since I wasn't sick then and still thought I'd be going...

And then the next day I got really sick, and I've been sick since. I hadn't had covid before, and again, my sister and I have been trying our best to avoid it, but if our parents are sick, it's hard not to catch it from them. But I'm not trying to be bitter right now! I should be better within a few weeks, and then I'll try to find a vaccine event, and then I'll probably be back thrifting, still in a mask because being sick sucks.

[wordyneonlights]

This writing every day thing might not be as hard as I thought !!

^^ Famous last words up there but hello all the same. Decided to post something else I wrote a couple years ago (I say a couple it was like last year probably) with a couple of edits.

Anyway, it's a draft of a first chapter so let me know what you think!

As always constructive criticism is always welcome, I do genuinely want to get better. Thanks for being here and happy reading!

DISCLAIMER & TRIGGER WARNINGS

Strong Language used

Mention of drugs and alcohol

Mention of SA (and creepy drunk guy behaviour)

Brief mention of death

(If I've missed anything please let me know!)

Having money is a very nice thing.

Being financially stable in general is a nice thing, it’s always a comfort to know that you don’t have to worry about food and bills and all that.

Yes, having money really is a nice thing. Which is why running out of it is detrimental. Unfortunately this is the situation I have found myself in, one with no money.

Generally, I like to think pretty positively, I mean I wouldn’t consider my view on life ‘glass half full’ but I prefer to stay off the negative side to maintain sanity. If I started thinking about all the things that could go wrong, I wouldn’t even get out of bed.

I closed my eyes and leaned back onto the bench I was sitting on. It wasn’t like I didn’t have cash, I had enough saved up to last at least a month until my grandmothers benefits came in but still… it was pretty worrisome that there was a grand total of zero US dollars inside my bank account.

“Alright Erica,” I thought to myself, “In times of great brokeness what do you do?”

I sighed and answered my own question,

I sell drugs.

It’s not as though I want to do it. I only use it as a last resort and it’s never anything stronger than weed but (apparently) it’s enough to give me ten years so I tend to stay away from it but hey, drastic times I suppose. I get up and walk, wondering if Michael would have anything to sell and if Adil and Alex were doing anything interesting right now.

Whoah

Where did that come from? Those two hadn’t crossed my mind in almost a year and here I am wondering what they’re up to

“Like you have any right to wonder,” my inner voice says and I kindly tell it to shut the fuck up as I kick a stray can down the street.

Although, on further thought, the voice had a point. I didn’t really have a right to be wondering about their wellbeing when I ditched them like I did. I shake my head and keep walking, I have too many problems right now and reanimating dormant ones would just stress me out even more. I reach the gate of Michael’s house and knock on it… loudly. John opens the little side door and I step through it, he gives me a small smile as I mock salute him and I walk to the pool and there he is. Michael Holland, standing by the edge of the pool smoking and looking at nothing in particular like some sort of fucking protagonist or a really cool album cover. Sometimes it's hard to classify him.

I try to fight the urge to push him in as I walk up and stand next to him, plucking the cigarette out of his mouth and throwing it on the floor.

“Do you wanna die at thirty?” I ask before crushing it under my heel

“Twenty actually,” he replies before bringing out another cigarette and a lighter. I give him a look that I hope he interprets as annoyance before sighing and asking my next question.

“You got anything for me to sell?”

I let the question hang in the air as he turns to face me, his eyes boring into mine as he tilted his head slightly and exhaled a puff of smoke.

“I thought that was a ‘last resort’?”

“Well, as you can see, I’m desperate,” I answered wrinkling my nose at the smell of smoke

“You don’t seem desperate,” he said giving me a once over.

“Very fucking funny,” I said, “Look if you don’t want to give me anything that’s fine considering well…” I trailed off leaving her name in the air, “But I wouldn't ask if it wasn't serious and if you can't give it to me I'll go to someone who can,” I turn around and try not feel bad about the fact that I'm semi forcing him to do something he doesn't want to do but, desperation does multiple things to people, none of them especially moral. I started a mental timer in my head,

5, 4, 3, 2, -

“Dicer's got some he's supposed to be giving to Matt... but I'll let him know you're taking it instead,”

Right on time

“Thank you,” I reply before turning, “And last month…”

“Save it,” he interuppted sharply before sighing and tapping the end of his cigaratte, “I mean I appreciate you,” he said looking at me, “But not yet,”

“It wasn't your fault,” I try to say through my eyes, "She wouldn't have blamed you,"

He turns away from me and I take that as my dismissal.

“See you around Josh,” I say to a nod in response. Exiting the gate and beginning the walk back to my apartment complex I let my thoughts drift.

I think about the stash I’m going to pick up, I think about Dicer who I haven’t seen since last month, I think about Angie at home, she’s probably watching some trashy reality TV and finally, I think about Alex. I think about that day and everything that I did afterwards. Basically, another chapter in my life that sums up how I ruin everything.

Shit

I looked up at the sun and squinted, it wasn’t so late if it was hurting my eyes which meant that I still had time to get home before it got dark and her house wasn’t so far from here…

I turn left and make my way to her house before immediately deciding against it and turning the fuck back.

What the hell are you thinking?

I ask myself and I answer my own question walking fast before I thump hard against someone, crashing backwards and muttering apologies.

“Shit I’m sorry-” I start before looking up and stopping, “Ty?” I say

He looks at me, brown eyes narrowing, “Erica?”

“Hey,” I say, totally cool and nonchalant as he keeps on looking at me.

“Does Alex know you’re arou-”

“No,” I say, cutting him off, “No she doesn’t and you're not going to tell her anything. In fact, just pretend you never saw me ok?”

I don't wait for a response walking off hurriedly, heart thumping in my chest.

Stupid, stupid, stupid fucking idiot, what did you think was going to happen?

I walked down the street, taking the long way to Dicers neighborhood so that I could blow off whatever possessed me to almost make such a stupid decision.

I decided to focus on Dicer instead, thinking about him always made me a tiny bit angry which was what I needed right now… a stronger emotion to drown out the feeling of guilt.

Dicer’s neighbourhood was worse than mine and that’s saying something. Sure I hear gunshots once in a while, and I’m not saying that we don’t have our fair share of drug pushers but my neighbourhood wasn’t as dirty as Dicers.

He lived where all the bosses lived, he played poker with them, drank with them, ran national money laundering schemes with them… not my favourite place to be

I walked down the street passing crack houses until I found the place I was looking for; actually I heard it first but that was besides the point. I entered the house wrinkling my nose at the smell before pushing my way through to the kitchen. If I knew him well enough he'd be there trying to trick a pretty girl into thinking he wasn't interested in the party so he could get in her pants.

And lo and behold there he was leaning on the counter scrolling through something on his phone.

I walked up to him and tapped his shoulder, causing him to turn around and smile at my presence. I didn’t smile back.

“I'm picking up Matt's rounds,” I told him, “Michael said you've got it and if you could hurry the fuck up that would be nice,”

“C’mon don’t be in such a hurry princess,” he said smiling softly, “If you want to leave so bad let me take you out,” he moved so his arms were parallel my waist as he leaned on the countertop, “You could show me all the tricks Will taught you afterwards yeah?”

My mouth went dry, and I could tell he wanted me to yell, to shove him off, to cause a scene. I wanted to, I really fucking wanted to, but instead I leaned in and whispered

“Unless you want a matching hole in your other foot, you’d better hurry up and get me my fucking drugs.”

I ended the sentence with a smile as his eyes turned cold and a muscle in his jaw ticked, if there was one thing Dicer didn't like to be reminded of, it was the fact that I'd beaten him where it really mattered and he had the scars to prove it.

He stood up straight, looking at me with almost pure hatred.

“Try that shit again with no Michael and we'll see what happens,”

“Just go do what you're good for and fetch my shit,”

I saw his fist clench out of the corner of my eye and he leaned to grab his phone before walking off.

Fuck

I stood up blinking rapidly, he almost had me when he mentioned Will but I wasn't the same person I was a month ago, he wasn't going to get a reaction that easily. I took a deep breath steeling myself before a sharp squeeze of my ass made me turn sharply around coming face to face with some creep

“Didn’t think he’d ever stop talking,” he said to me, words slurring together as he moved closer. He squinted while looking at me before opening his mouth again

“You’re skinnier up close, lucky you’re hot or I definitely wouldn’t fuck you.”

My hand was moving towards a beer bottle ready to break it and scare him away before his eyes widened at something behind me and he quickly stumbled away.

“Took you fucking long enough,” I muttered, turning around only to come face to face with Ty.

Fuck. Fuckfuckfuck. Why is he here? Does he usually come to these things? Have I just never noticed? But I'd know if he did, I'm sure I'd know if he did! Does he know Michael? Does he know Dicer? My chest hollowed suddenly as my thoughts raced. Does he know about Will? Does he know about ... about her?

“I thought you were Dicer,” I managed to choke out.

And speak of the devil, there he was holding a handbag and eyeing Ty inquisitively before smiling. My stomach rolled, nothing good ever came of that smile.

“You found someone new to teach you tricks huh?” he asked and I bit my tongue so hard I tasted blood.

“Erica-” Ty started but I grabbed the bag and his wrist, pulling him away from Dicer, from this house, from this place. If only I could somehow pull him away from me.

I drag him ,or... he lets me drag him because he could stop us both if he wanted to, to the top of the street before slowing to get a good look at him. Ty was not a good liar, if someone had told him to follow me or something it would be written all over his face. I stop and he does with me.

“No one told you to follow me,” I start, “So why are you here?”

He frowns slightly, “Y'don't think I could follow you out of my own free will?” His eyes drifted to my hands and I realised that they were shaking. Fucking Dicer

“Are you-”

“It’s just weed,” I interrupted

“What?”

“I mean, inside the bag it’s just weed... I don't deal anything stronger than that,”

He nodded, the frown still evident on his face, “What was that guy talking about... with the tricks?”

I feel my chest getting tight and sink down on the ground leaning on a lamp post. Ty joins me, feet stretching out towards the curb.

“It's a long,” I breathe sharply, “Long story,”

“Safe to say I've missed a lot huh?” he jokes

“Not your fault,” I say

There's a long silence between us and I feel the knots in my chest start to loosen before my breathing even out properly.

“So,” he starts, “You wanna go to Dano's?”

[astaroth1357]

Brothers Finding Out a Lesser Demon with a Crush is “Moving In” on MC

You know, I like to show the good sides of our boys a lot… But how about the ugly for today? Let's let them just being mean, nasty, possessive little demons, huh? 

Full disclaimer: I almost didn’t post this because I received an answer post from @diavolosthots that ended up being distressingly similar to this idea about 3/4th of the way through drafting it. I’m posting it anyway because of the time I’ve already sunk into it but in exchange I will absolutely encourage you to read from @diavolosthots if you aren’t already. They’re a big reason why I’m making content to begin with and I love what they’ve done. Warning: their blog is a LOT less fluffy than mine (they probably wouldn't be into my stuff 😅) and has NSFW content so be prepared for that going in. If that’s not your thing then just give them a pass, cool?

Check out the Masterlist for more!

Warnings: Violence, Bullying, Cyberbullying, Cannibalism(?), Murder, Yandere-ish

This is all for the purposes of fantasy and in no way an endorsement for these behaviors in real life. Be nice (and smart) with your lives, my friends.

Lucifer

Is honestly offended for them.

Don’t they know the caliber of demon MC rubs elbows with every day? Do they honestly think they’d stand a chance? Any one of his brothers would be more deserving than some lesser demon suitor and that even INCLUDES Mammon.

But of course, the real reason they’d stand no chance is because he wants the MC too and he’s not planning on sharing with or losing to someone who isn’t even worthy to be stuck under his boot...

He may lay down some… “discreet” hints for the poor demon to look elsewhere.

Things like advising Diavolo to make some emergency changes to the classes at RAD so they no longer share any class together or watching the demon extra closely for any minute slip up he can flag them for. If he could have them expelled for a dress code violation, he’d do it no sweat.

Okay, "discreet hints…" Flagrant misuses of power… Same difference right?

He may never come right out and say they should leave MC alone (why dignify the guy with such a response?) but if looks could kill then his “competition” would be utterly decimated by now. Especially if he ever catches the two in the same room... Yikes.

Mammon

Oooo buddy, he ain’t happy. He doesn’t even like sharing with his brothers and now some rando wants a piece too?? Nuh-uh. No way.

Takes the more direct approach and just confronts the guy when the MC isn’t around. It's good for the demon that Mammon doesn’t like resorting to violence if he doesn’t have to. Heated words and a threat or two will be exchanged then they can go their separate ways.

That can be the end of it if the guy backs off (as anyone with sense should). But if not…

When he makes a threat, and he’s serious about it, Mammon makes good on them.

He’ll come back to the House one night a little beat up, maybe with a few nicks and scratches. Of course he’ll want the MC to play nurse for him and he’ll be delighted if they accept (even if his tsundere ass won’t say it).

The lesser demon apparently dropped out of RAD the next day. No explanation given. He didn’t even step foot back on the school grounds to do it...

Of course, everyone’s sure there’s no relation between the two. I mean, this is the same Mammon we’re talking about… right...?

Leviathan

It’s a miracle he even found out but now that he knows he’s pissed. He’s not the Avatar of Envy for nothing.

Look, he might be a shut-in and not worth all that much but he’s got to be better than some lesser demon guy! He’s the third born and he has a freaking navy for crying out loud!!

Will likely leave his room for the first time in who knows how long to follow the MC to RAD. Once he’s got a face to the name, that’s all he needs for his hatred to really get going...

He will make this dude’s life a living hell with the best tool a shut-in has, the Internet. 

He’ll dedicate a freaking week to digging up dirt on this bozo then start releasing it out to everywhere he frequents. Not a single sock of that dirty laundry is getting left out. All of his most embarrassing secrets are laid bare for the Devildom to see.

He’d cover his tracks, of course, so nothing can be traced back to him. The MC is probably none-the-wiser to who’s spreading all this hot gossip but his brothers know right away.

Once the dude’s social life and pride are in utter ruin, he’ll invite the MC over for a movie marathon to celebrate! He might even get a little more cuddly than usual... His MC is with him and that’s how it ought to be.

Satan

Pffft… That’s cute. Real cute they think they stand a chance. He’d wish them luck but he also kind of wants to stab them so…

On the one hand, he knows he probably shouldn’t waste his time but on the other he just can’t resist the call to absolute devastation that his inner rage is forcing on him...

His new goal is to utterly undermine the new competition in every way, mental and physical, which means he will take every opportunity he can to demonstrate just how much on another level he is. 

Gets nitpicky and corrects the guy’s every move. If he says something wrong in class, he’ll berate him for it. Make a social faux pas? Well now the whole school is going to know about it.

Doesn’t stop there, though. He will do everything in his power short of throwing the first punch to try and instigate a fight with the him. He knows that if he technically starts it then the punishment will be on him, but the other way around he can say, “Hey, he’s the one who punched Wrath incarnate. What was he expecting would happen?”

Any resulting fight between the two would be a very one-sided bloodbath. He will not hold back at all and stop when he damn well feels like. The guy will be in whatever the Devildom equivalent to a hospital is for weeks...

If the MC tries to ask him about his behavior, he’ll gaslight them and change the subject. He doesn’t really like indulging in the more violent side of himself in his day-to-day life but some things just can’t be helped, can they?

Asmodeus

Honestly not as bothered as the others are. He knows they stand zero chance, so why worry? It’s bad for the skin.

But that doesn’t mean he’s going to sit back and do nothing. Oh no, a zero chance could always become a one, even five percent chance if you’re not careful.

Asmo’s preferred method of ridding competition is like a mixture of Satan and Levi, but Oh. So. Much. Worse.

Lesser demons can be astonishingly easy to charm without them noticing and he is the best charmer of the family. He’s pretty popular to start with but suddenly he’s talking to almost everyone he comes across until, well, he’s got the whole school listening.

From there it’s child’s play. Suddenly, the demon’s friends won’t talk to them. People stare and whisper about them in the hallways, is what they’re saying true? Doesn’t matter. Asmo could feed them anything and they’d believe it.

He’ll make sure they feel isolated, alone, and hated by everyone they speak to and they won’t even know why. Going to RAD at all will be like walking into a prison. Ideally, they’ll just stop going, and then tada! Competition no more.

Of course, he could just charm the competitor to look elsewhere, but then who’s going to be the example to the others? Nobody needs any more “Zero-Chancers” popping up around the MC, right? You’re welcome, sweetie~! 😘

Beelzebub

He’s trying not to be that guy, he really is… but since the MC is involved… Really? You actually think you got a shot there, buddy?

Probably going to be the brother most likely to try and let the guy down gently at first, but make no mistake he will make sure he knows it’s a lost cause.

If the other demon still insists on being a competitor though… Alright.

MC pretty much goes under his “protection” from that point on. If they’re at RAD at all, Beel is not far behind. Not exactly looking outright intimidating but always just…. there.

But if the dude so much as enters a room with them he’ll be sure to stare him down and mention that he’s hungry a little louder and a lot more often.

To the MC that may just be typical Beel, but everyone else there knows Beel has swallowed lesser demons whole in the past. And for a lot less reason than this...

When Beel gets territorial he can be a subtle about it, but terrifying nonetheless.

Belphegor

Would laugh in their face and give zero shits about it. 

Like, even as the weakest sibling he could snap them like a toothpick and that’s not even getting to how they probably know jack all about the MC anyway. What even is this idiot??

Starts pulling some casual “pranks” on the guy to grief him at first. Little things like tripping him up with his tail or taking his things and hiding them in inconvenient places.

The lazy part of him hopes he’ll get the message and back off but that sadistic side really hopes he doesn’t so he’ll never talk to him directly...

When, of course, the dude doesn’t back off because he doesn't know he's supposed to, his pranks start escalating. A textbook in the school pool suddenly becomes an explosive curse put on their backpack. A kind of homicidal passive-aggression, if you will.

By some unholy miracle the guy manages to last a couple days after a barrage of progressively lethal murder attempts pranks, Belphie’s inner laziness and frustration will finally get to him and he’ll cut the passive from his aggression.

Much like with Mammon, everyone finds out that the demon dropped out of school quite suddenly. But he’s also seemed to have gone dark from all his socials and his friends can’t seem to find him anywhere... 

Concerns were raised with Lucifer but he doesn’t seem very enthusiastic about starting an investigation... It’s not the first time he’s covered for his brothers after all. 🙄🤷‍♀️

[wisteriashouse]

huddling.

pairing: rengoku kyoujurou x reader

genre: fluff

word count: 1482

a/n: found an old incomplete draft and completed it instead of writing something new from scratch because i am ✨ lazy ✨ smh

It’s absolutely freezing.

“I do not think that we’ll be able to make it back to a Wisteria House tonight!” Kyoujurou calls over his shoulder, his booming voice somehow dampened by the roar of the winter gale. Pulling your haori tighter around yourself in a poor attempt to shield yourself from the freezing winds, you do your best to stop your teeth from chattering before calling out a reply to the man in front of you.

“What do we do, then?”

There’s the crunch of Kyoujurou’s zori sandals on the snow as he trudges back to you, his bright hair tossed about relentlessly by the winter storm. Contrary to you, he appears completely unaffected by the cold, a vigorous smile on his face even as the winds batter the two of you. Perhaps it has something to do with him being the Flame Pillar, you think as you try your best not to shiver. 

Kyoujurou, of course, notices.

“Are you cold?” He asks, brow furrowed as he looks you over - a cursory glance of concern that has no right making your heart skip a beat as it does. Cheeks heating slightly, you turn away so that he can notice and shake your head, fisting your hands to stop the shivering. It wouldn’t do to have you embarrassing yourself in front of a Pillar.

“No, I’m alright.” 

You’re proud of the fact that your teeth only chatters once.

Kyoujurou frowns slightly, and before you can ask him what the matter is, he’s already slipping the haori from his shoulders and stepping forward. Shocked at his offering, you raise your hands to stop him in his tracks, shaking your head desperately. “No, no, I’m really alright, Kyoujurou-san-” 

The Flame Pillar pays no heed to your words, humming lightly as he sets the fabric of his haori around your shoulders, smoothing it out with his hands so that it wraps snugly around you. To your surprise, the second the haori settles around your form, you feel yourself enveloped in warmth - Kyoujurou’s gentle warmth woven into every fibre and stitch seeping into your skin.

“Kyoujurou-san, I really...” your words trail off, caught between slight guilt at taking his outer coat in this cold and the desire to continue basking in his warmth. Already, the added layer of protection against the winds make you want to cry with gratefulness. Kyoujurou only laughs at your hesitance, reaching out to sweep some snow off the top of your head. 

“It’s no problem! As you are my junior, I should be looking out for you!” His words, simple as they are, are enough to make your heart trip in your chest. He smiles at you once more before his eyes turn razor sharp again, glancing over the expanse of snow behind you before making a quick decision. “We’ll find a cave somewhere and get out of this cold. It wouldn’t do to keep wandering about in the middle of a snowstorm and the mountains are treacherous at night.”

He takes a single step forward, pauses, and glances back at you briefly. You blink at him, a little confused at the way he’s staring at you, before he’s suddenly reaching out to take your hand in his.

“Come on!” Kyoujurou says brightly, even as you gape at him. “I would hate for you to get lost in the snow! This way, I’ll know that you’re always behind me!”

With a gentle tug of his hand, he leads you through the snowstorm, shielding you from the biting winds with his own body. His hand is wonderfully warm, long, strong fingers folding over yours and holding you close behind him. Sure that you’re out of his sight, you finally allow yourself to smile - happiness seeping through the cracks of the professional facade you try to keep up around your senior.

The two of you find a small cave embedded in the side of the mountains after a few minutes of searching. Ducking into the small crevice splitting the rock face, you let out a sigh of relief to finally be out of the wind, drawing Kyoujurou’s haori tighter around yourself. 

Deep into the cave, where you can no longer hear the howling of the wind outside, Kyoujurou spots the remains of an old campfire - apparently, both of you aren’t the first ones to take refuge here from the elements. While you pick out the still salvageable twigs to burn later on, Kyoujurou works on starting the fire with a small flint and steel. A few minutes later, the darkness of the cave seems to fade ever so slightly, and you turn around to see your mentor holding up a patch of burning kindling that illuminates his triumphant smile.

“We’ll have to wait out the storm here,” Kyoujurou tells you after he gets the fire going, sitting next to you. Your backs against the wall, both of you watch the little fire you have in front of you crackle merrily, orange gold flames so much like his hair near hypnotising you with the way they dance. You nod, tuck your feet close to you and blow on your hands, because even with Kyoujurou’s cloak, your extremities still feel they might freeze at any moment. If that’s how cold you feel, you wonder how Kyoujurou hasn’t turned into a walking block of ice.

“Kyoujurou-san,” you begin to say, concerned, and his head turns around immediately to look at you with a bright smile. Golden light flicker across half of his face, the other half cast into shadow. Remarkably handsome, you want to say, but instead you ask, “Are you sure you aren’t cold? I mean, I have your haori and I’m still freezing…”

His mouth twitches into a slight smile at your question, but then suddenly he laughs, eyes crinkling slightly at the corners. “Well, when you put it that way, yes, I am very cold right now. Perhaps I should talk to Oyakata-sama about winter uniforms during the next Pillar meeting!” He laughs again at the thought, and his eyes soften. “But I am quite alright. It is more important to me that you will not freeze. I am uncomfortable, but I have been through worse. Do not worry about me!”

That doesn’t sound very good. Chewing on your bottom lip, you glance down at the haori covering you before turning back to the man sitting next to you. “Then, Kyoujurou-san, how about we share?”

He stares at you, a befuddled expression on his face that constitutes of a boyish raise of the eyebrows and a slight scrunch of his nose as he fights back a sneeze. “Share? How?”

“Well,” you hold up his haori in front of you to gauge how much it will cover. And… that was a silly suggestion to make, because you have vastly overestimated the size of his haori, but you also don’t want to go back on your word about sharing it. “Like this…”

Sidling up next to him, you try to press yourself as close as possible to his side without actually touching him, before you toss the haori over the two of you. It ends up failing to cover either of you completely, but at least now you feel less bad about having it all to yourself. “I mean, it’s important to me that you don’t freeze either, Kyoujurou-san.”

Kyoujurou is quiet for a second, before he smiles again, more slowly this time - it’s not bright as the sun, like his usual laughter and grins are, but more gentle and muted, like the small fire in front of you. “That’s very nice to hear,” he says. For some reason, you can’t bring yourself to look at him - instead, you keep your eyes firmly focused on the flames in front of you, watching them as sparks swirl into the air. 

While they are very pretty, they also make you sleepy in a record amount of time. In almost no time at all, you’re fighting to keep down a yawn, your eyelids starting to droop. When your head nearly falls forward, a gentle hand catches you by the chin and guides your head to rest on a strong shoulder.

You try your best to stay awake, you really do, but Kyoujurou hums lightly, his hand settling lightly on your head. “Just go to sleep,” your mentor says gently as you struggle to keep your eyes open. You’re practically leaning against him at this point, but he doesn’t seem to mind. “I’ll take the first watch, so you don’t have to worry about a thing.”

“Mmm, wake me up when you want to change over...” you barely manage to make out before your eyes slip shut. You vaguely remember something gentle touching your forehead, but you cannot remember what it was in the least. 

All you know is that you slept warmly that night, and that’s enough for you.

[roger-that-cap]

brand new eyes

wanda maximoff x fem!reader

summary: having a penpal in the sixth grade was overdone, in your opinion. and handwritten letters just weren’t convenient. you weren’t happy at all to start talking to some random girl your age across the sea, but once you started, neither of you could find it in you to stop.

warnings: fluff!!!! mutual pining. badly written letters (actually the whole one shot). brief battle with sexuality. a seriously strong connection between two characters (almost soulmate territory here tbh). every single mistake here is 100% mine!

word count: 8.7k!

At first, you were sure that the pen pal letter suggestion for extra credit was stupid. Why would you handwrite a letter when you could send an email? Why would you send a letter by mail that would take much longer? It took two weeks for a handwritten letter to arrive, and only seconds for an email. It didn’t make any sense.

And then you got your first letter.

You realized very quickly why handwriting was what your teachers asked for. You never knew that handwriting could be so vulnerable, so open. You had never seen letters that were so loopy, so delicate. That letter was written so neatly and so personally even if the girl who had written it hadn’t meant it to be that way, and you knew that a computer even with all of its special fonts wouldn’t be able to do that.

You understood why the handwritten rule was there.

But you didn’t like it when it was your turn to craft something so beautiful.

It wasn’t a competition by any means, but you didn’t want your letter to look anything like the words you scratched down into your notebooks. You wanted them to be neat and pretty and most of all understandable for the girl behind the pen and across the sea, because she had done the same for you.

By the time you stopped ogling over the letters and started actually reading the words that the girl had written, you learned her name. You learned it within the first line, actually.

Wanda Maximoff.

She was obviously from Sokovia, she spoke English as her second language, and she had an older twin brother that she both adored and was annoyed by. She was in the equivalent of your grade in her country, and she liked to cook with her parents. The letter was basic and slightly elementary, just an introduction to what she was willing to share with a stranger that lived thousands of miles away.

But that didn’t make it any less special.

You started on your return letter minutes after you let her pretty words sink in.

You drafted your letter and let it sit for an hour without you looking at it, and then came back to it only to cross things out and revise it, and then put it on the expensive paper that your mother had bought for you. It wasn’t perfect, but it was yours. It started with a greeting, your name, and then into the same sort of things that she spoke about in her own letter, the things that people that went to school with you had learned in passing over the years.

It felt like giving someone the rundown of your uneventful life so far in the simplest of ways. It felt like someone getting to know you as you wanted them to, because you were telling your story. There was no other side, or truth, or lie, just what your pen and your brain decided to write. It was controlled chaos. And you adored it.

Your print was easy to read. It wasn’t loopy like hers or as “girlish”, as one of your classmates said when you brought both letters to school to get an extra one hundred. It wasn’t fancy and alluring like hers, but there was still something magical on the pseudo-aged parchment.

You sent it off to the post office the next day, and you put her letter on your desk. 

§§§

By the time that your third letter from her came, you already were drafting your own. It came straight to your mailbox and when you checked the mail that morning, you were ecstatic to see it waiting for you, like a pet waiting for it’s person to come home. As usual, it started off with the gentle scrawl of your name, just a bit larger than all of the rest of the words that were on the page.

I can’t believe that it’s already been weeks of us writing. We started in August, and it’s nearing the end of October. Speaking of, is it starting to get cold there for you? It’s already cold for us. Our grandmother always makes us the best tea and soup when it gets cold outside, and I could send you the recipe if you wanted!

My brother and I are curious about one thing, and we hope that we get your answer in time, but, is Halloween really a thing? We have both heard of it, but we’ve never done it here. It sounds magical. I’ve always wanted to dress up however I wanted and get candy for it. If I were to do it, I would probably be a Disney Princess, maybe Merida. Sadly, we don’t do that here. Does it really happen in the United States, or is that a movie thing?

Hopefully you don’t mind my questions much, or my short letter. Pietro likes to read over my shoulder while I write and receive the letters, and I like to write at the kitchen table. There’s no escaping him. You’ve never talked about siblings, do you have them?

The rest of the letter was like that, aloof yet curious and bouncing around all the same, and then signed with her always rushed conclusion, which was nearly the same every time.

You read it and put the letter in the box that you had bought from a thrift store, a box just big enough for the size of the neatly folded and tied off letters that she gave you. You clipped the box shut and put it back under your desk, and then started working on your response.

Instead of just a letter, you sent her a letter in a small box that had the candy that you had gotten on Halloween night, and the mask that went with the rest of your costume. It wasn’t the Disney Princess that Wanda wanted to dress up as, but it was something. It was your something.

§§§

As the December portion of your letter writing, you and your penpal were supposed to learn of the other’s traditions during the Holidays, whether you or them celebrated or not. A huge slide show about the culture of your Sokovian friend was supposed to be shown, and you knew that there would be a lot of the same PowerPoints, a lot of the same pictures and sayings and explanations. You wanted something different. You also had no idea if Wanda did Christmas, but you had to ask.

Wanda,

I’m sure that you know that our assignment now is to present a slide show about what our penpal does during the Holiday season, but because I don’t know whether you celebrate Diwali or Christmas or Hanukkah, I’ll start with asking you about New Years, because I’ve never met a person who didn’t celebrate New Years.

What do you do on New Years Eve? I’ll start by telling you that I watch the ball drop with my family, eat food, and drink cider after it hits midnight. It’s a big deal here for us, because the new year is a time for self revolution, apparently. I’ve never done a New Years resolution, but maybe I’ll do one this year. Have you ever done one?

I know that food is very big over in Sokovia, so what kind of food do you traditionally have when you’re celebrating? Do you like it? Can you cook it yourself? Because I know that you have the same questions for me that you have to put in before you leave for Winter Break, I’ll answer my own questions.

And you did. You were thorough, partly because you thought that it was kind of you to do so because she should get a good grade, and also because she had written that she was thankful for your descriptions on multiple occasions. You had noticed that she was the more whimsical writer and that you came off as the more grounded one, and it intrigued you.

You wondered if you two would come off that way in person to other people, if you ever got the chance to meet.

When her letter came two weeks later, wrapped in aged string as always, you skipped to your bedroom, already pulling the box out from under the table and starting to read it. You smiled through the whole thing.

In her own way, not as precise or even in order as you, she had told you everything you needed to do a good slide show about Sokovia during the Holidays.

§§§

You were emotional at the end of the year. Not because you were leaving the sixth grade and going to a new building in the school and leaving behind your kind teachers, but because the pen pal assignment was over.

No other assignment had been so important to you, or eye opening. You were only twelve years old, but you were old enough to know that you had never found a friend like you had in Wanda, who was still thousands of miles away. No one else, not even the people that stood feet apart from you, offered you friendship like Wanda Maximoff did.

You couldn’t stop writing to her.

It was your turn to send a letter, the final letter that you were supposed to send, and then her closing letter was supposed to come two weeks later. You couldn’t just close it. Your entire mind was screaming at you to not close the book that you had hardly started yet.

So, as your pen rested on the parchment paper (without drafting first), you lifted it up, and changed your mentality from a “goodbye” to a hopeful and questioning one, as you hoped that she felt the same and wanted to talk just as much as you did.

Wanda,

It’s the end of the year. Technically, we should be done with our letters because it’s the end of the year, and the assignment is graded. This should be a closing letter, but I don’t think that our friendship was ever dictated by the grades that we got. We were always closer than all of the other pen pals at school that I knew, and I was hoping that you would want to continue writing.

You couldn’t write much more after that, because your pen was shaking and you were starting to get in the danger zone of dropping tears on the paper. If this was your last letter to Wanda, you wanted it to be pretty. Just half as pretty as she always made hers, if you could manage it.

You sent it off the next morning after finding an old string that was nearly the same colors as hers and getting your friend across the street to hold it down and color the outside of it for you.

§§

A part of you wanted to say that you wouldn’t have been expecting to still write handwritten letters to a girl in Sokovia in the ninth grade, but you certainly were. While everyone else in your class had lost contact after the assignments were done or tried and failed to keep contact afterwards, you and Wanda continued talking all through the years.

It astounded your parents, who were sure that in the beginning, you were just obsessed with someone who was your age and who wasn’t exactly like you. They thought for sure that you would have lost interest in talking to Wanda, but after three straight years, gas spent taking you to the post office, and money spent on special stamps and the same paper, they were starting to finally get the hint.

Because you were so close with Wanda, you hardly had close friends in your neighborhood, and maybe two or three at school. There was no one that knew you like Wanda did, and no one that knew Wanda like you did. One particular letter where you confessed probably the worst thing you had ever done to her that no one else knew was what finally let you know that she was the most judgement-free person in the world, and that you would do anything to keep her. You would never forget how the letter went, and how her response sounded. 

Wands, 

I’ve done something terrible. I may have accidentally gotten involved with a boy who already had a girlfriend, and I had no idea. I had literally no idea, and today she just called me out of nowhere and started crying over the phone to me, and I had no idea that he was with her. At all. It was so pitiful, and she’s not mad, and she says that she won’t tell anyone it was me, but still. She seemed to really like him, and I think I may have just ruined a relationship. I have no idea what to do, and all I feel is guilt. Nothing more or less. Should I send her something? Give her a gift card? I feel terrible because she was just so sweet about it.

The letter went on and on with your scripted rambling, so repetitive and panicked that you were shocked to know that Wanda had, in fact, read the entire thing. She got a message back to you rather quickly, and that made you both nervous about her verdict and glad, because you felt like with an answer so quick, she must not have judged you too harshly. You remembered opening it with shaky hands, and inhaling and exhaling when her first words after your nickname were “breath in” and “breathe out”. 

Wanda once said that writing to you was like writing to a diary who always wrote back, and you couldn’t agree more. She knew everything, and she never judged. And, when the time came for her to put all of her eggs in your basket of trust, you did the same for her. 

You distinctly remembered getting the few letters that you kept at the bottom of your letter stack, even though you liked to have them in chronological order. In the eighth grade, Wanda was having a crisis over her sexuality. Being anything but straight in Sokovia wasn’t the best thing to be, and you knew that. The first letter she ever sent you about her sexuality had dried spots on it, where she had obviously cried. Her handwriting wasn’t anywhere as neat as it usually was, and it sent you into a state of panic. 

We talk to each other about everything, so here I am asking for your advice because I won’t be getting anything here. I know that usually we keep our letters formal for aesthetic purposes, but I can’t this time. Also, no one other than you can read this. 

From there, she told you that she was sure that she liked women, and that she was even more sure that her parents would be upset at her. She told you that she had been dwelling on it for a while, thinking about it and having it weigh heavily on her mind. She was all over the board with it, from her parents being upset to her being afraid that you were going to be opposed to it as well, or tell her that she was “too young to think that way”. She ended the letter by telling you that you were the first person that she had ever told. 

You started your letter with your own confession, and Wanda Maximoff was the first one you ever told, too. You were past having your crisis, though, and you helped her through hers without a second of complaints. You always wished that you had someone to help you when you were down and questioning yourself, so you knew that you would be that for Wanda without hesitation. 

You two grew together even more, and by the ninth grade, you both knew that there wasn’t going to be anything in the world that could stop your letters. 

You came home one day after a long day and checked your mailbox out of habit, knowing that a letter wasn’t due for a few more days. But there it was, wrapped and sitting pretty for you. Your name was scrawled beautifully on the front in the handwriting that got better and better with every year, but you would recognize it anywhere. A smile grew onto your face as you walked to your front door, unlocking it and rushing inside to get to your desk. Of course, your name came first in the loopy letters.

I hope you’re doing alright! Things have been busy over here on my side of things, but never busy enough to not write you back. I just wondered, have been wondering for a while, really, if we were ever going to meet. We’ve been writing to each other for years, but I’ve never seen a picture of you. I know everything about you, but I’ve never met you. You are my best friend in the entire world, but I’ve never heard your voice. One day I would love to finally meet you. Would you be open to thinking about one of us flying out? Maybe after school is over for the both of us, we could make it happen. Number  

It was much longer than that, but that was what caught your attention, more than her description of her busy week did. You read the letter three times. And then again. Your heart thumped in your chest as you tried to get a grip on yourself, irrational nervousness gripping your throat like an iron fist.

You knew the day was coming. You knew that it was. You two didn’t know what the other looked like at all, and neither of you had ever asked. Sometimes, you thought about it, but other times you found that it really didn’t matter. It didn’t matter what she looked like because she was the best friend you had ever had, so you forgot about it. But that wasn’t what worried you.

The thought of meeting her nearly put you in cardiac arrest. You couldn’t meet her. What if you met and you two were totally bored of each other? What if how close you were on paper didn’t reflect at all in real life? What if you two found roadblocks in conversation that you never saw before? You didn’t want to meet her, not at all. You were terrified of it.

Because if you didn’t connect with Wanda on sight, then you doubted that you would ever be able to connect with anyone else. If you were wrong about Wanda being your person and her being yours, you would be crushed. If you figured out that the person who you gave your all for didn’t like you anymore after meeting you, you would die on the spot. You couldn’t afford to find it out.

You sat at your desk for an hour after reading her letter, smoothing your hand over the paper like you always did before you wrote your response. You knew what you needed to say, you just didn’t know how to say it.

What she had already written helped you, too. She was implying that they met up after graduation, which was still years away. You had time to hold off on it, to not talk about it for a while. You had some stall time in the bank, for sure. And you were going to use it.

§§§

You made the mistake of not putting the letter in your box.

Your mother came into your room, and she saw the letter. Your desk was typically off limits, so you were upset that she read it anyway, but what she said led all anger out of your body and made way for fear.

“You should totally go see your friend, sweetie!”

“What?”

“I’d pay for you to fly out,” your mom said. “I’d come with you, but I would pay for you to fly out and see your friend. You’ve been writing each other for three years now, and you’ve never seen each other. You guys should do it.”

“You’d fly me out to Sokovia?”

“You’re a great kid, of course I would.” You took the letter from her hands gently and put it in the box, and she gave you a look. “You don’t want to go, do you?”

You didn’t answer.

“Why not?”

“I’m scared to meet her,” you admitted plainly, and then your mother gave you a look.

“She seems so excited to, after all these years. She’s such a sweet girl, what are you worried about?”

You couldn’t answer that. Your fears were your own, and they sounded ridiculous out loud. They made no sense to everyone else, and sometimes not even to you. Wanda Maximoff was nothing but sweet and kind and a good friend, and there you were, trying to blow her off because you were scared of a possible lack of face to face connection.

“Can we just drop it?”

And you did. In fact, all four of you did, until later.

§§§

By the end of your junior year, you were done for. Not because of tests or applications or any of that, it was because you realized that you were in deep for Wanda Maximoff.

It all made sense. The need to keep writing to her, the excitement you had felt getting a letter since sixth grade, the way you marveled over her penmanship and loved everything that she said and did. You were so in love with her, and it was irreversible. You were in love with her and what the two of you created together. 

And you couldn’t lose that because of a bad meeting. 

You avoided the topic of going there or Wanda coming to you, and you finally got each other’s numbers so that you could text on some international texting app, but primarily, it was still the heartfelt letters with the occasional heart stamps and constant string coming your way. And you wouldn't haven’t wanted anything different. 

 You sat at your desk on the last day of school as you wrote to her, writing about how you were about to watch some of your slightly older friends graduate in a few days. You also mentioned how you were excited to be a senior and get through your last year of high school just so that you could go and do whatever it was that you wanted to do, because you were only seventeen, and you didn’t know anything. 

 Sunshine, 

I can’t wait to get out of high school. It’s not bad, just boring. I wish the people here were like you, and then maybe I could actually carry a conversation with them. Have you told your family yet? I told mine. My mom was… shocked to say the least, but she was fine with it. I think she might have suspicions about us writing to each other now, but who cares? I want to know if you’re alright. 

How’s your new job going? I know you were excited to get one, so I hope it’s treating you well. It’s funny that you and Piet work across the mall from each other. I knew it was gonna be like that, even though you said it wouldn’t be! You two are inseparable, it’s so cute. Does he have any idea what he wants to do after we get out of school? 

 I kind of think that I want to start my own business. A flower shop, maybe. You know how I sort of have a green thumb. I think it would be good for me to own something. What do you think? 

You wrote for about thirty minutes more, answering the questions she had asked you in a previous letter and signing your name at the bottom, a small smile on your face as you thought about her and her brother making food together like they always did. 

You loved her. You really did. 

§§§

 It was in the middle of your senior year when you realized what the problem with her coming was. You had been keeping it so far in the back of your mind that you didn’t even realize that the alarms were blaring in the back of your head. 

  You knew that if you saw Wanda in person once that you would never be able to let her go. You would have to pick up and move to her country or she would come to yours, and it would kill your mother for you to move. So, that would mean that you would be asking for Wanda to leave her own family to be with you, and you couldn’t be selfish.  

 So, you would be selfish in a way that was also selfless by holding off on seeing her. 

 You hadn’t told her that you loved her, and you planned on never admitting it. You were sure she kind of knew, even just a little, but she never said anything. The way that you were holding onto the idea of her probably said enough for her to know. You just hoped that she knew that you were in love with her as a friend, at least. Wanda was the type who needed to know that they were loved, and she so was. 

 You loved her without even knowing what she looked like. You loved her without knowing whether she had a nasty habit or if she was a neat freak. You loved her without seeing her in a dress or in your favorite color or even looking into her eyes. You had never even heard her voice before, but that didn’t matter at all. You fell in love with her hand writing, then the way that she wrapped her letters, and then her words themselves. And then, you just were in love with Wanda Maximoff. All of her. All that you knew. And the things that you didn’t.  

 You thought about a confession letter for a long time. You were terrified of it, to say the least, because what if it backfired? What if she thought that you were only interested because she came out to you? What if she thought that you didn’t mean it at all? 

Or worse, what if she just completely didn’t feel that way at all? What if the feeling she got when she wrote to you was nothing but platonic? That would be the biggest nightmare of all, and you had no idea how you were ever going to be able to pick up your fancy pen and put it to your special parchment after reading that. 

By the time that you finally stopped wrestling with yourself about whether you were going to tell her that you were in love with her, you got a letter in the mail. A heart stamp was on the outside and it was tied with the string it always was, and the familiarity calmed your racing heart. You opened it gently, like you did with all of the letters you got, and then you saw her familiar scrawl. 

How could someone’s handwriting feel like home? 

Moonlight, 

I would love to tell you about everything that’s been happening here, but I believe that it’s rather boring compared to what’s been bursting at the seams in my own mind. With every letter that I’ve ever written to you since we were thirteen, I’ve hesitated with my pen over telling you what I know has been true for years. I think that, finally, I know that I have something to say to you. I’ve always wanted to admit this to you, ever since the seventh grade. 

 I think that I fell in love with you, a long, long, time ago. I think that I know I did. I haven’t told you, and I never intended to tell you, because I was scared. I’m still scared here, as I write this letter, but I can’t keep it to myself anymore. 

  Pietro already knows, but he knew before I even did. I’m sure it has something to do with us being so in sync, that he knew where my heart, love, and loyalties were before I even knew myself. I tell you everything, and something as monumental as falling in love with someone, I believe that you should know. But I couldn’t tell you. Not in the beginning, and apparently, not even after a year or two. 

  I’ve never seen you or heard your voice or held your hand, but I don’t need that to know that I truly have fallen in love with the person that you are. You are a beautiful person with the most gorgeous soul I have ever had the privilege of talking to, and I think that we have stumbled upon a connection that we may never see again, if you feel the same way. 

 If this made you uncomfortable in any way, please tell me. I’m sorry if this came on too strong, or too up front. I never want to make you upset. 

 It’s okay if you don’t want to carry on writing to me after this letter. I just thought that I needed to tell you after all this time. We never lie to each other, and I think that this lie to save me from possible embarrassment or losing the greatest friend I have ever had has expired. Thank you as always for reading, Moonlight. 

 Your Sunshine, Wanda. 

Your jaw was slacked, and your mouth was open. Your heart was beating so quickly, but it wasn’t frantic. Your mind was going at a thousand miles a minute, but you were calm. You were supposed, but you weren’t. It simply felt… right. It felt like you had secretly been expecting it all along, like your soul had known the whole time, or maybe even like it had known that you felt the exact same way. It felt like you were receiving news that you had already heard about. 

But that didn’t take away any from the pure elation that you felt. You set the letter down so that you didn’t accidentally wrinkle it, and then put your head in your hands to hide your smile and think, like they would help you any. 

  She loves me. Wanda loves me. And not in the way that friends loved each other, that’s not how she loved you. She felt what you had been feeling, a bond so strong that it could be felt on paper. 

  Your hands shook as you reread the letter. You scanned over it for a second time, a third time, and you were tearing up by the fifth, finally setting it down again and leaving it on your desk. It didn’t deserve the beautiful darkness of the box where it’s predecessors went, not yet. Probably not ever. You would have framed it in the moment, if you could have. 

  Part of you was glad that she admitted it first. You were going to, one day, maybe. But the worst part was the hypothetical wait for the letter to cross the pond. Whoever sent the confession letter would have to wait about two weeks for a response, and that felt like forever. You knew that just as much as she did, and she still took the chance to do it. 

So, with the most fond and gentle smile on your face, you took out your special pen, wrote Sunshine as the entrance, and then professed your own love right back at her, trying as hard as you possibly could to make it as beautiful and raw for her as you felt on the inside, and as the one that she gave you. But, all you could think of were the first two sentences, but you knew that you were going to go for much longer than that. 

  Sunshine, 

Oh, Wanda. How I wish we were both brave enough to do this earlier. 

§§§

 By the end of your senior year, you two were dancing around each other, taking it slow, as if you both hadn’t professed your love for each other. You kept writing your steady letters to each other, the same nicknames, the same doting words and pretty scratched across the paper with dark ink. 

For the most part, nothing changed. But neither of you could deny the way that you wanted to see each other. And so, your time was up. You had to stop messing around. 

  The first time the two of you planned to see each other, it was supposed to happen over that summer break. It was supposed to be a nice experience for everyone, at a time that was actually pretty convenient. 

  And then, right during the week she was supposed to come, her aunt passed away, right in her sleep. It didn’t even come to your mind to think about rescheduling so fast, and that was the first time you had ever gotten an email from Wanda. She emailed you the morning that she found out, saying that she would rather send the first email than have you show up at the airport upset because you didn’t know she wasn’t coming. She was able to resell her ticket and you assured her that it was totally okay for her to not be coming, and you gave her condolences, as well. Wanda was very close to her family, and you knew that she felt that loss. 

  The next time the plans fell through, it was because you were going to surprise her. Your mom paid for your ticket, and you had finally grown out of your own mind and realized that it was going to be what it was regarding meeting Wanda. But, when you emailed her two nights before, spilling the beans because you didn’t want to just go to the airport without knowing how the hell to get around, you got a quick response. Turns out, she wasn’t anywhere near her house, or the airport. She was on a marine biology trip in some waters off the coast of Romania, and she hadn’t gotten the chance to write you all about it yet. You begrudgingly canceled the trip and told her that of course, it was alright. That night, your mom assured you that the two of you would just try again later.

 But then life happened. You went off to culinary school, a last minute yet sure decision after Wanda had taught you that there was so much more to love about food other than the taste. She had your new address and you had hers, because she moved from Sokovia to Italy for her marine biology major. The letters came and went faster, with the smaller amount of mileage. 

   Long story short, neither of you had enough money to go and spend thousands on a trip, and not even one helping the other out or splitting the cost helped much. Wanda was getting increasingly nervous about whether it was ever going to happen, and though she never stated it directly, it was very obvious. You were getting there, too. 

 The thing that kept you going was the letters. The same as they had always been on her end and yours, they were the one constant in your life. Wherever you went, you knew that her letters would follow you, and that you would still write from your heart and send your own across the sea over to some place in Europe. You knew that as long as her letters were lengthy and detailed and that if she took the time to wrap them as gently as she had been, that you two were strong. And as long as you kept giving advice and writing her entire short stories about you week, she knew that you were still hers. 

  You would be hers until your heart stopped beating, and long after that. You were there for her for as long as she wanted you to be, and that was widely known. 

§§§

It took four years for you to get back home and in a place where you could afford a ticket in or out. Wanda took a little longer, but that didn’t matter. It only gave you even more time to save and plan for when she came, and the date came. 

You were both twenty two when you bought her the winning ticket. You were flying her out to Florida for a week and a half. The Keys, to be exact. You knew that she was going to love it and the beautiful waters that came with it, and it was away from the meddling eyes and mouths of your family, the ones who had been routing for you from afar (and in the beginning, behind your back). It was just going to be the two of you in a condo, and you knew that it was going to be heaven on earth. 

 Now, hell on earth was the anticipation of waiting at the airport. You had no idea what Wanda Maximoff looked like, partially because it didn’t matter while you two wrote, and also because you wanted to see her for the first time in person. You two had a flare for dramatic romantics, another reason that you two clicked so well. 

  You stood with a sign that you had made the night before with paint that you had mixed yourself into her favorite shade of red, a scarlet, almost pink color. You were in a sundress because it was sweltering outside, and you were almost nervous about how she would take the heat after being somewhere so cold all of her life. You were rocking back and forth on your feet without even noticing, and your stomach growling was the last of your worries. Your heart was racing and your hands were shaking, but you willed them to stay still so that she could at least have a chance of reading it. 

  You were sure that you were about to pass out. It seemed like it had been millennia and a day all the same with her in your life. Everything that you had written each other was really about to come to life, after ten long years. You felt almost like it wasn’t real at all, like you were about to be woken up by your alarm back in your apartment over at your old school. But it was very, very real, and all the receipts and your racing heart advocated for the truth in it all. 

The gates opened, and all of a sudden, people were lazily walking out, as one would do after a long flight. You were certain that the woman who was standing next to you could hear you start to slightly hyperventilate, but you didn’t care. The only thing that mattered to you in that moment was Wanda. 

  A man came up from behind you and bumped you, and he said his apologies while you bent down to pick up the sign. Despite your nervousness, you stopped to tell him that it was okay, sign still face down on the floor. He grinned at you and then frowned when he looked up, causing you to mirror his expression. 

 Your name. It was clear as day, accented, close, and sounded like a sigh of relief and wonder floating in the wind. It came from a woman you didn’t know the voice of, and just like that, you remembered what you were doing. You left the sign on the floor, stood up, and turned around as fast as you could, eyes slightly wild as they soaked in everything about the woman standing in front of you. 

  Her hair was almost a cross between light brown and light red, even in the fake lights of the airport. She had light makeup on and she looked a little tired from the flight, but the look of elation on her face wiped it all away. Her pink lips were curved into an open mouthed smile, like she had forgotten the words while they were already halfway to her tongue. Your heart raced as you looked at her, and you didn’t even need to question who she was. Or who she was to you. You couldn’t look at anything but her face, the face you had been missing so achingly without ever seeing it before, the face that you knew was bound to give you comfort that you had never felt one in your life, until the end of your days. Her eyes were wide and a clear blue as they stared back at you, reflecting your exact expression, and you sensed that the two of you had already synced up and gotten on the same page, just like you had both predicted.

 “O-oh my god,” you breathed out, just inches away from her. “Wanda!” You went in for an embrace at the same time, both of you somehow knowing which way to lean your head to avoid collision, and just where to put your arms. You fought shaking when you held her, your nerves completely shot at it finally happening. You were actually with Wanda, in an airport, hugging her like there was all the time to spend in the world. “Oh my god,” you repeated, and you felt her squeeze you a little closer to her. You could have cried in that moment. 

 “You,” she pulled back from you to take your face in her hands, her blue eyes scanning over your face like she was studying priceless art. In the back of your mind, you wondered if it was the way she looked when she watched the animals underwater. She shook her head slowly, eyes welling up with the thinnest layer of tears as her lips turned up into a smile. “You are beautiful.”

  Your heart skipped a beat as you looked downwards, feeling yourself get hot at the bold and sincere compliment. You knew that anything more than about three words was going to smoke you stutter “Wanda, have you seen yourself?” She laughed, a soft sound that you had imagined hearing so many times that you almost thought you had made it up, until you saw the upturn of her mouth and the mirth in her eyes.

 “I’m- I can’t believe I’m actually here,” Wanda breathed out, and you felt the same exact way. How had you pulled it off? After nearly a decade of pining that was mutual and writing to each other about every little detail in your lives, she was finally right in front of you, where you could see her and touch her. 

  “How’d you know it was me?” You asked after a second of grappling for something to say. “I didn’t have my sign up when you came.” 

 The smile that was on her face went from being flat out joyful to content, almost peaceful. It rubbed off on you immediately as you leaned back into her touch, ignoring all of the people bustling around in the busy airport. “I just knew that it was you.” 

§§§

For the entirety of the day Wanda arrived, all the two of you did was stare at each other and hold onto each other, like you were both equally terrified that the gods were going to come down from wherever they resided to split you up again. There was hardly even any talking when you arrived at the condo, and it felt natural. The two of you had already spoken so much, and now you needed to catch up on just seeing her. You’ve seen her soul, her mind, her heart, and now you were seeing her face. It felt like you had always known it. 

 But you were the first one to speak as you held hands on the deck, her thumb drawing subconscious hearts on the back of your palm. “You have a way with words, sunshine.” The name contrasted to the sky, which was dark but illuminated with an almost full moon and stars. The city was mostly behind you, so the natural light was what you got. It was all that you needed. 

 You felt her content fade into joy. “Really?” 

You knew that she was nervous about her English, but to you, it was perfect. From her accent to the way that she sometimes missed connotations that were specific to the language to the idioms that accidentally slipped into your letters, you loved it. “Mhm,” you hummed, leaning your head on her shoulder. “And I never would have imagined that you sounded so… sweet.” 

 “Sweet?” She parroted, and you smiled even though she couldn’t see it. Somehow, you knew that she could feel it, in some strange way. “Can I ask you something?” The answer was yes. It was yes, and it always would be yes. So, you said that. She cleared her throat, a quiet sound that you stored in your memory to keep, simply because she made it. “Did you… did you mean what you wrote?” 

 You were stumped. There had to be hundreds of letters between the two of you, and thousands upon thousands of topics. But you couldn’t question yourself for long, because then you knew exactly what she was talking about. 

  Did you truly love Wanda? The question came up a few times between you and your mother when you were in your first year of culinary school. Were you in love with Wanda Maximoff, or were you in love with the idea of Wanda and the mystery she brought? The question had been brought up, many times by your mother, who was only just making sure that you were being smart, and the answer never once varied. Yes. You loved Wanda Maximoff with every breath you took, every stroke of your pen, every glance at her pretty script. You knew that Wanda was it for you, and seeing her only solidified it. The way your hand fit together like they were the missing parts of a lost artifact made it concrete. The way she gave you everything back and the way you did the same told you everything you needed to know. 

  You leaned off of her shoulder and turned to face her, a soft smile on your face as the moon came out from behind the singular patch of clouds in the night, illuminating her features. You saw her face and her spirit through brand new eyes, and it was wonderful. It was all you could ever ask for. “Wanda,” you started, your voice quiet enough to not disturb the moment, and the sound of waves crashing not too far away. “I’ve loved you since I knew what love was, and I have been in love with you for as long as I knew what the difference between the two really was. Everything that I have ever sent to you, every word, I meant it all. And I’ll mean it for the rest of my life.” 

 She was staring at you blankly, with only a bit of something lingering in her gaze. Then, as soft as a breeze, she was muttering something under her breath in her mother tongue and putting her hand on your face. “Can I kiss you?” 

You ignored the way that your heart surged in your chest. The moon was still out and bright, shining down on the two of you like you had paid for it to be a spotlight. “You never have to ask,” you said, and then, as fluidly and gently as humanly possible, she tilted her head and leaned forward, and you met her halfway. 

§§

You had never been scuba diving before, but Wanda was in her element. She helped you suit up after she told the instructor that she was certified, and then rolled her eyes playfully when he checked behind her work. You cracked a smile. The entire time he was instructing, she was nearly bursting at the seams to get into the water, and the second he said that the two of you were allowed to go, she was holding your hand and asking if you were ready. 

 You never thought that Wanda could look more beautiful than she already had, but in and near the water, she was something else. She was in a state of grace and peace all the same, and you wanted nothing more than for her to be so tranquil, for the rest of her life. All you wanted in return was to be privileged to see it. 

The gods that made you fear a bad trip were actually on your side, because Wanda excitedly pointed out a group of migrating sea turtles, not even paying either of you any mind at all, carrying about through nature. You smiled at them and at her, unable to decide which one was going to be the apple of your eye at the moment. You chose her. 

§§§

You got out of the shower, your skin still slightly damp and the air humid from the heat of the water. You smiled at Wanda when you caught her looking at you, giving you that same blank stare that she had the first night the two of you got there. You stopped in your tracks, giving her the encouraging look that you knew she needed. “You okay, Wands?” 

 “I love you.” 

Your breath hitched. It was the first time she had spoken the words aloud, and you both knew it. The weight of the words and the confession felt so true, so genuine, that it went straight to your heart and made it swell with warmth. A small yet generous smile stretched onto your face as you felt everything fall into place. “I love you, Wands.” 

  “More than I’ve ever loved anything,” she continued, like she hadn’t even heard you, and you looked back at her with a doting expression. “And, I’ve been holding off because I don’t know how to say that,” she paused, and then she fell into deep thought. 

 You took a step closer, assuming that the small language barrier had come up. When it took her more than a few seconds and you saw the little scrunch of confusion between her brows appear, you spoke up. “There’s no rush,” you said gently. 

“If other people were to look at us, they would say that we have only known each other for three days,” she said, and you nodded. “But, I feel that we’ve known each other for thousands of years. I feel that we were made to meet, and that we were always going to no matter what came up. Why else would we both be so focused on talking to each other? I have always seen you as someone special to me, always, but now that we have finally seen each other face to face, I think that my… heart is recognizing you as it’s other part.” 

 You had no words in your mind at that moment, because they were all in your heart. You couldn’t open your mouth to convey the pure shock and relief that you felt at her admitting something that you had been feeling the whole time. You swallowed and felt your eyes burn with tears, but before they could fall past your cheeks, Wanda stood up and wiped them from your face before pulling you close. 

  Nothing mattered. Not the fact that you were still wet and she was in her pajamas, not the fact that you were in a towel, not the fact that the pizza man was knocking at the door. It was you and her, like it always had been in your mind, and Wanda’s too. 

  You were it for her, and she was it for you. And while you hugged it out in that beautiful condo in Florida, you silently thanked your sixth grade English teacher for making you write to a random girl your age all the way across the Atlantic, and you thanked Wanda for being the one who wrote her way right into your life. 

so. uh! hiiii! i hope y’all liked it! i loved writing it, even though she was a lil bit of a challenge, not gonna lie. feedback is always appreciated!!

[theregoesmylurkerstatus]

So... I have a lot of thoughts on the finale. I've deliberately kept my mouth shut, more or less, on the campaign overall because I'm a firm believer that you can't pass judgement -- at least not complete judgement -- on stories until they're over and done with.

Well, it's done! Kind of crazy. I've been watching Critical Role with almost insane consistency, viewing almost every single episode live, with maybe five-ish exceptions, since episode 19, and I've been blogging it for, what, two and a half years?

It's a weird feeling. It's been such a constant thing for me that I'm always gonna have love for it and remember with a lot of fondness.

...Which is in spite of the fact that I can now comfortably say I'm pretty eh on the ending. I know not being positive about something most of us have loved a lot for a very long time can sting a bit, but I personally think it also stings when people relentlessly crow over how good they think it is or want it to be, to the point where you feel you can't voice your absolutely valid upsets or dissatisfactions. So, here goes, if anyone's interested! I'd be curious to see other opinions, too!

I actually drafted a post talking about my overall frustrations with the campaign a whole two weeks ago, and then scrapped most of it when 140 blew me out of the water. I was really touched, and really happy. I hadn't expected it, but it shockingly felt right, you know?

Unfortunately 141 robbed me of most of that satisfaction and brought me right back to neutral.

The blanket statement you have to make, of course, is that you can’t criticise this as a DnD game, and you can’t be mad at the cast for playing it in a way they think is best for them. They’re the players, Matt’s the DM, and in the end it makes no sense for them to try to make themselves act how they think the audience wants them to, and I’m sure most of the audience wouldn’t like the result anyway.

That said, there is an audience. And that’s where I see this clash coming in. As a DnD game, as long as the players and DM have all enjoyed it and been satisfied, it’s a successful game! But for us, it’s not a DnD game. For us, we’re watching a story be written in real time through the medium of an RPG. And while as a DnD game you can’t fault it, as a piece of media, I completely get why the way things have gone has sat weirdly for a lot of people.

It's not satisfying to see so many character hooks dealt with so quickly or left as an offscreen "and then you do it." If they don't want to keep playing to dive into it, absolutely, but for us who have been watching this as a story with all these character elements get so built up, it's a huge anti-climax.

Which is a lot of what this campaign has been, really.

Oh, Nott’s cursed! But through a really cool character moment that problem is completely taken care of with no consequences we see. Yay, I want her to be Veth and that was an iconic move from Jester! Still, it kind of feels like this was built up to be a big problem and at the first success it was let go... Caleb's got a really intense frightening past he tries to hide, I wonder how the Mighty Nein will respond? Oh, they found out, but it's not a difficult revelation for anyone. Looks like it's easy for them to move past it and forgive. Yeah, that's healthiest for the characters, but huh, kinda undercuts it as a storyline or point of interest. Oooh, Avantika’s back! Ah, they’ve killed her and grabbed the eye again. I mean I don’t want them to die or for Uk’otoa to be free, but I’m starting to feel like that’s not much of a threat anyway. The Traveler’s been kidnapped! Nah he hasn’t, he tried to save Jester so he was let go with no further issue, and also he wasn’t actually in any danger anyway. Oh... Cool. So... Why should I care or be worried?

And these are just the biggest ones I remember being kind of let down by. I wanted to see them STRUGGLE for the successes to have meaning. To my view, threats of failure -- real failure -- really decreased the more the campaign went on, with a few exceptions.

Because don't get me wrong, we've definitely had struggles, and those have made for some of the best moments! Molly’s death, Yasha’s kidnapping, Yeza’s imprisonment. When failures that were threatened are allowed to occur, it’s far more gratifying when it’s followed by success, because you understand that that success was actually necessary. It shows us that what they do really means something.

Honestly, that's why the final battle really shut me up, because nothing makes you quite feel stakes and failure like having two PCs die, and having a resurrection ritual fail -- AND knowing that failure would be delivered on, had it not been for a seemingly miraculous roll of the dice to turn it around. One of the greatest failure's -- Molly's death -- made the success of his resurrection put a lot of my other issues to rest immediately, because to be honest? Molly's resurrection was the biggest success of the campaign, exactly because it was originally the biggest failure.

But this episode, we got to see the other side of making threats and successes feel disappointing -- when you get the impression that success was robbed from you. Again, their characters, their choices, but to have them roll an intervention to get Molly's soul, to convince Molly to come back with his own possessions they've so loved, after so long and so many struggles... only to apparently not get Molly at all?

Changed, of course. Memories, maybe he'd never get them back, though that seems inconsistent to how the initial resurrection was played and Matt's hints. It even makes sense that not having his memories and being a bit different, he might forge a new identity, but insisting Molly was a different person entirely after such a supposed hard won success to get Molly back, especially after what his death meant to the audience and potentially healing that old wound? It robs the narrative of a LOT of catharsis, at least for me and I know many others.

Trent, too, I'm very up and down on. He was so built up -- and what fun that build up had -- and I very much disagreed with the idea that the best story would be dealing with him offscreen.

It's true that you don’t need to explicitly address, confront, or explore every big aspect of character's story hooks and background ties for PCs to move past them and grow healthily. But that does not make it a satisfying viewing experience. People quietly healing in real life is healthy. People quietly healing in an explosive fantasy setting is frustrating for the audience.

What on earth is the point of a story if you don’t get to SEE THE ESTABLISHED CONFLICTS go anywhere? A lot of the characters got distant, quiet resolutions, if that, to everything we wanted to see.

Except, we did get to see Trent. It was a really fun, inventive battle, from opening to conclusion, but much like Travelercon, much like Nott's/Veth's problem with the hag, these were things that the audience in general wanted to see be really dug into and explored, and every single one of them got, in my opinion, quickly tidied up instead. Trent got beaten in the first and only proper battle they had with him, which, after all his build up, is pretty disappointing for a villain many of us wanted to see be a big deal. It really just felt like they were trying to tidy up to get on with the epilogue, which is not what a lot of us were looking for with Trent especially.

And that's how most of their endings felt to me. It didn't feel like any of them had reached a comfortable conclusion. Literally all of them, bar Veth and Caduceus, continued on their character journey threads, without each other and very quickly. Meeting Yasha's tribe and Vandran, Caleb finally openly debating changing time for his parents, Trent and Zeenoth's trials and the changing of the guard at the Assembly... All were things it would have been so fun to have all the PCs react to and explore together, and instead they were fleeting encounters in the latter half of a seven hour finale.

Is all this, from Molly not really coming back to Trent being a finale side plot to the Nein continuing on their individual journeys, potentially realistic to how these fantastical things might go down in real life? Sure! But that's not necessarily a good thing.

Stories THRIVE on conflict and resolution. That’s what makes them FUN! Conflict isn’t nearly so fun in real life and resolutions are often frustrating question marks, so no, past a certain point I don’t WANT stories to be realistic. I want stories to be SATISFYING.

And campaign 2 has fallen far short of the mark.

I haven’t spoken... Basically a word of this for most of the campaign, because as I said I’m a firm believer that you can’t necessarily judge something until it’s over, and because I ALSO firmly believe that being negative WHILE trying to enjoy something is counterproductive. I have had no interest in spoiling or naysaying the fun of the campaign for anyone, least of all myself.

But it's done now, and all I can say is... I really have had fun. I love the characters. I love their relationships. I’m pretty okay with where they’ve ended up. I’m not mad, really, and I’m still going to think of this campaign with a lot of affection. But it hasn’t been a satisfying story, even though for a week following episode 140 I thought, despite all the brushed over story threads, it might be.

So... to try and reclaim some of that satisfaction for myself, I might ignore some aspects of the finale proper. Namely Kingsley specifically. Taliesin's choice -- but to me, it's pretty clear that who we saw at the end of 140 was Molly, and the tags on my posts will reflect that, just as my 141 tags will be for both Kingsley and Molly, for clarity's sake. I personally want to believe Molly did come back, however others might want to interpret it. The victory in 140 that meant so much to me is hollow otherwise, and it just kind of hurts that we would lose Molly after everything. I was okay with him being dead -- I'm not so okay with his resurrection being stolen.

Kingsley will always be canon, but Molly is what I choose to acknowledge. I get if you don't like that take, and that's okay! I didn't care for canon's in the end. That's the good thing about storytelling, is that no one can stop you from making your own versions.

For the people who are hopefully hyped for campaign 3, heck yeah have fun! I’m on the fence. My investment, which... I think I can objectively say was pretty substantive as this blog will attest, doesn't feel rewarded, so I’m not convinced I can faithfully keep up for over three years all over again with a strong possibility that I will once again be left disappointed. It's been a huge chunk of my life, and... yeah!

I’ll take a break, probably, view (and liveblog, if people want!) campaign 1 when I’ve had a mental stretch and vacation, and then... I might start campaign 3. I definitely won’t be able to put the same time in it I did campaign 2 (my first love no matter what), knowing that it’s likely to not be so vindicated, in the end.

I swear I’m actually writing this in fairly good humour, but I totally get its always disappointing when the people you come to for fandom enjoyment just aren't sharing your fun. Honestly I’m half tempted to write all those frigging AUs I have sitting around! But I wanted to say my piece, and try and logically outline why this ending has been lacklustre for so many people, ultimately myself included.

Episode 140 felt right because it felt like a natural conclusion -- these disparate people coming together and finally being whole, finally soothing the hurt that MADE them so long ago. Episode 141 spat on that sentiment -- they all scattered to the winds, not as happy people to live out their dreams, but as confused people chasing up loose threads towards an unknown future, with the friend they thought returned still lost to them, ultimately.

It doesn't feel like the ending we should have gotten for the Mighty Nine, who were finally, finally all together. Until they weren't. So to me? I choose to acknowledge that they were, even if I have to force it to happen post-epilogue in my head.

[vinnieworld]

5 tips to boost 5 days of Productivity

We all love to procrastinate and most of us (including myself) have made sport out of this, but is this how we really should be approaching things?

The answer is NO.... apparently

So join me in my self evaluation of bringing you 5 tips how I avoided procrastination by being a bit lazy.

Being productive for a whole week when you have too much on your plate but you spend your entire weekend scrolling through social media... well me too :)

Though Mondays suck, its a brand NEW week so we can't let Mondays win and ruin out entire week right?

Tip 1 - Preparation before the week start

- Make a to do list - For the next day or the week

A short list of your most prioritised tasks e.g. starting that essay you been avoiding, even if it just picking the ttile

Make sure to not put too much pressure on these tasks

Keep it simple

DO NOT put too many things, be realistic only add things you know you can achieve

Little ramble on how this helped me :)

We all have those sleepless nights, especially when you have a 9am lecture/class the next day. Somehow you end up going to sleep at 4am still make it to your lecture on time, though the rush might be exciting this is not the way to start the week because your mind will get used to this so much and this becomes your normal routine.

Not going to lie, I am super guilty of this but I found out this not only drains my energy, it strips me away from my motivation and make me lazy all the time.

So one bazzare night I thought to myself what would I potentially want to do this coming week, so I got my phone started typing my "potential" to do list for the week, okay the list was quite long and seemed quite overwhelming, and I knew I wouldn't do all of this so though I made the list I didn't put too much pressure on this. When I checked back in the middle of the week I did most of the things on the do to list unconsiously. This was so surprising I never get things done.... what changed ?

Most of the time we put too much pressure ourself, that's why we procrastinate and they avoid the things we need to do. The minute the pressure is gone you get the urge to do your things even if you are unaware of it.

Tip 2 - Follow today's work TODAY

- Follow the lecture and make notes while you're attending the lecture

Take brief notes on what's on the slides

If the lecturer give extra info add those especially

DO NOT panic if you don't write everything on the slide, remember these are brief notes to for later revision

Speed is not important, what's important is that you have something written on the paper

when the lecture/class is finished fill in the gaps you left during it, do this right after while you still have the energy.

one page = one lecture (unless the lecture is 90 slides then its bit tricky)

Little ramble on how this helped me :)

I personally find it very hard to keep on top of things, especially with how different lecturers have different methods and speed with delivering their content. I tried many methods, recording the lectures, printing the slides, handwriting everything but it only made me bored of the things I was learning.

I can't stare at pages and pages of writing when I'm trying to revise, so best way for me to do this is if I have one page or two for the entire lecture. This helped me a lot of condense my notes, motivated me to keep writing and I felt accomplished by the end of every lecture.

Tip 3 - Keep one book for all your modules

- Invest in a chunky subject divider notebook

This is where you write the notes form the previous tip

One book to take to all your lectures, don't have to carry five or more

Write all the assignment and exams for that subject in the dividers (Kinda like a self-reminder)

Keep a general section where you write extra information that relates to the subjects (e.g. extra seminars, extra activity sessions, groups project notes, your own research for subjects, assignment preparation etc. )

Little ramble on how this helped me :)

Most of my detailed notes are digitalised, this is way easier then writing hours and hours of detailed notes by hand. But all the modules, lectures, practicals are separated so it's too much of hassle to find what I want when I want to have a quick glance at something.

Dividing the book by subject and seeing different content I am going to need regularly being on one place really is therapeutic for me, give me less stress so I don't have to spend time looking through pages of notes to find just one sentence.

Having one book for all my modules, helped me so much to keep on motivated to write notes and keep on top of it and when I revisit it, it's so pleasing to the eye.

Tip 4 - Write flashcards on the day

- Put little bit of extra into a flashcard

Once you finished a lecture, read back and pick the most key bits and write a maximum three sentences

Keep it very very brief

Think of pictograms for some words. e.g. little blog with stokes for a virus or a spark for electricity

Some info you can't fit on your page put it on the flashcard, like a diagram or a table

Little ramble on how this helped me :)

I am a sucker for flashcards, seeing them makes me so happy to revise. But making them when an exam is near is frustrating so if you make them before by the time you get your exam season you already have flashcards to revise from. How convenient!

Tip 5 - Write a sentence or research a bit everyday for your assignments

- Every time you feel like you done nothing today take a look assignment and write sentence - Take this step by step everyday and add information along the way

Pick a title first for whatever your assignment is

Do basic research on the title you chose

Do a basic plan

Improve on the basic research

Add information to the plan

and ect....

Little ramble on how this helped me :)

Doing assignments is tricky, very boring, they can be very long and stressful so we avoid even starting it until the day before it's due. Okay, we all work well under pressure but we don't really produce our best work under a day so investing little time everyday or every other helped me to produce more quality work than normal and it was less pressuring and stressful when I started the binge writing on two three days before the deadline, because all the research, preparation is done all I had to do was write and improve my work along the way.

I actually cannot recommend this enough because it saved me from a lot of breakdowns over my assignments. Just by adding something to it every now and then I basically finished my first draft by the time I actually want to start to write properly.

Bonus tip - Take the weekend off! - > If you're like me and get bored very easily with doing the work then follow these tips for the days you have school or uni, finish everything by Friday and take the whole weekend of .... TRUST ME you will be much more prepared for Monday.

Thank you so much ya'll for reading this, I do ramble a lot but it's a part of me that I embrace so I hope this was helpful for you and make sure to tell me your thoughts and feelings.

Till next time Lovelies x

[mittensmorgul]

it’s a bummer to see you can’t enjoy the ending. I hope someday you can come around it it. It wasn’t perfect but it didn’t nuke its integrity. i think the heart of the show really shines through and it’s a shame that it’s not being appreciated bc there’s so much shipping drama 😣

Hi there!

I... first of, I really need people to understand this... the travesty of the finale for me has almost nothing to do with “shipping drama.”

Yes, I see the wild conspiracy theories flying around, and I’m honestly concerned for some of those folks and hope they can find a way to make peace with this in whatever way they can, because we aren’t likely to ever get a better answer than that this is legitimately the ending that Dabb thought was best, despite years of us seeing the best of his writing choices and guiding Sam, Dean, and Cas to grow past the roles that Chuck would’ve forced them to fulfill, and that at the end it fell flat because he couldn’t actually come up with a better ending than “this was always their destiny, free will is a lie, and these characters had nothing outside of the revenge quest they’d been raised for since birth and manipulated into over and over for the entertainment of a vengeful god.”

I can see how “surface level” viewers would feel that this one basic narrative point was satisfying, that Sam and Dean had grown beyond their own hopeless cycle of self-sacrifice that had driven the narrative for so many years. The fact that they both acknowledged that they should allow their stories to end in that way was satisfying... but only in the shallowest and most detached read of the narrative. Like, is this really the ONLY thing these two characters learned in the last 15 years? If so, that is BEYOND depressing af.

And even THAT message lost all narrative weight when the two of them were once again reunited in death, as if nothing else had ever mattered in their lives. As if neither of them had ever outgrown the codependency that had driven so many of those previous self-sacrifices and refusals to let go of each other even in death.

So yeah, in the absolute most basic sense, I suppose I can see how casual viewers or people who aren’t actually invested in these characters could find that at least narratively coming back to a starting point.

But narratives don’t actually work that way, and that��s not the point of watching fifteen years of story develop in between.

This story wasn’t JUST about Sam and Dean needing to accept that death might be okay actually.

This story was also about free will, fighting for humanity as a whole but also their OWN humanity and self-identities. In Dean’s case, the absolutely transformative growth from feeling like nothing but a hammer, a killer, a tool to be used. And then less than an episode and a half later, after finally accepting that truth into his heart and using it to defeat the original creator and reclaim the story of his own life for himself... he gets pied in the face after flippantly talking about his destiny and having no choice, and then three scenes later he literally dies impaled on a great big nail... like a hammer...

So I would kindly ask folks who feel satisfied by that shallowest possible takeaway of this episode, and maybe invite folks to look just under that surface. Try to understand why loads of us will NEVER feel satisfied with this ending, and why it truly does feel like the most hopeless version of the story. Like even in defeating Chuck, they could never be allowed to own their own stories and what happened to them after that point was just a twisted version of the “destiny” that drove Chuck’s entire plotline for them anyway.

Please understand where we’re seeing this as horrifically painful irony rather than some beautiful circular narrative about letting go.

For a lot of us, the shipping stuff would’ve been the cherry on top of the sundae. We would’ve been happy with a scoop of plain vanilla, though. We would’ve been happy for anything that honored the journey to freedom, and the choice at any sort of a different life of their own making than literally falling back on a nail fighting off one of John’s unresolved hunts and a vampire who had literally never been named in canon before, yet who Dean instantly recognized somehow... 

but sure, for those of us who felt that “the heart of the show” was all the stuff that the finale actually erased-- that “family don’t end in blood,” and that this was actually not a show about just two brothers but the love of their found family and coming to terms with the choices they actually HAD made for themselves versus the narrative that Chuck kept centering them in DESPITE what they would choose for themselves, the finale basically told us no, everything you ever found of value in this story actually meant nothing. It told us that Chuck’s story for them was their only truth in the end, and their only freedom was to be found in death.

Please, I am begging people, stop trying to gaslight us that this was some beautiful ending. Maybe think for a second that “your read” of the narrative that allows you to find peace with the ending is not what we saw and loved about this story for the 326 episodes leading up to this finale.

And please try to understand that we were not wrong to see the entire narrative through this lens. Because we were literally validated IN CANON, and told that we understood the depth of the story and the characters just fine, actually. There’s literally ONE episode of the entire series that burns it all down in a bewildering pile of wtf. And that’s #327. That throws that entire read out the window to well actually us all back into Chuck’s literal ending... This was literally the ending Chuck wanted to force them to enact for him, and it’s what ended up happening even after they defeated him-- the ultimate Big Bad of the entire series should’ve been defeated, but instead he pulled off one final victory over the entire story.

Becky: No. You can't-- Chuck: I did. Becky: Y- This is just an ending. Chuck: Yeah. I don't know how I'm gonna get there, but I know where I'm goin'. Becky: B-But it's so... dark. Chuck: But great, right? I can see it now -- "Supernatural: The End". And the cover is just a gravestone that says "Winchester". The fans are gonna love it. Well? Becky: It's awful! Horrible. It's hopeless. You can't do this to the fans. What you did to Dean? What you did to Sam? Chuck: There, see? It's making you feel something. That's good, right?

and

Dean: Well, what now? You're not gonna dust us. Chuck: Oh, yeah? Why not? Dean: Because you're holding out. For your big finish. Yeah, we know about your galaxy-brained idea, how you think this story is gonna go. Sam got a little look into your draft folder. Chuck: Sam's visions -- they weren't drafts. They were memories. My memories. Other Sams and other Deans in other worlds. But guess what. Just like you, they didn't think they'd do it, either. But they did. And you will, too. Dean: No. Not this Sam. And not this Dean. So you go back to Earth 2 and play with your other toys. Because we will never give you the ending that you want. Chuck: We'll see.

And even in DEFEAT Chuck thought he understood these characters, thought that having rendered him powerless they would finally take their revenge and kill him, but they didn’t, because he never actually understood these characters at all. And the story he tried to force them into from day one was never about THEM, it was about HIM. 

And then Dean gets like two whole days of freedom and choice and is apparently incapable of making any of the choices that don’t throw him immediately back into Chuck’s favorite story. Like none of that resolution in the previous episode meant anything at all. He even SAYS it in the finale:

Dean: Yeah, no. I think about 'em, too. You know what? That pain's not gonna go away. Right? But if we don't keep living, then all that sacrifice is gonna be for nothing.

And then two scenes later the show gives us the Nelson Muntz HA HA and Dean is no longer living, and Sam is left to carry on as a shell of himself and wander off into Blurry Wife Land to devote any even remotely content moment of the rest of his years to raising a  Replacement Dean to fill the void, and is never able to pick up the pen to write anything better of his own life than Chuck would’ve dealt him in the first place.

So I’m glad that top-layer takeaway is sustaining and enough for you. It wasn’t, and will never be enough for the rest of us.

What was actually real in all of this? We were.

Until we weren’t.

And that’s honestly a shit message to be pushing on people in the wake of it all. So please stop.

I should actually thank you for the kind intent with which your message is phrased, but that doesn’t make it feel less hilariously awful. Though I chose this one to reply to as the least insulting of all the messages currently in my inbox on this subject. So thanks for that, at least.