#he finds problems to create i didn't even know could be problems daily

[fooltofancy]

daily i hear mallow doing something illegal behind me somewhere and turn around to (probably) tell him no, and the thing he's doing is either so fucking cute or looks so fucking stupid i just laugh.

[saturnicos]

Hi! Can you make a Hazbin Hotel Headcanons of how the characters would comfort a reader who is having a panic attack.

Yeah! Ironically, I had a pre-episode panic attack during a class today, writing this helped me avoid a meltdown.

Of course, if you wanted into a different perspective (or other characters, since I don't write many at once), feel free to tell me :)

HH cast comforting !reader having a panic attack

With: Charlie, Alastor, Lucifer, Adam, Angel Dust

Context: Panic attack can happen any time, without any motivation. Unfortunately, that's hits you more often than you would like. In a middle of a conversation with them, you start to feel anxious and afraid, eyes widening and an immense desire to cry appearing. How would them comfort you?

. Charlie

— Oh! And I created a new plan that I would lik.. — Charlie interrupts herself as soon as she sees his eyes roaming the room, your leg shaking while the sound of your heartbeat was heard loud enough.

She knows that happens with some frequency and often is ready when happen. Actually, she's a bit imperative and has its moments of generalized anxiety; although it's not the same thing, it has a basis of what she can or cannot do to help you.

— Honey, look at me, please — She ask to you, holding your hand and looking at your eyes with a serious expression in her face. — It's ok, you'll be fine, you're safe with me. Now, breathe in and out with me.

She starts as an example, taking a deep breath through her nose and releasing the air through her mouth. Despite your mind clouded with fear and derealization, your eyes locked onto hers, unconsciously repeating what exercise she replicates, feeling your breathing regularize slowly, despite the tremor and fear continuing.

She smile at you, holding your hand with a little more strength and delicacy. She moves forward with her free arm at her side, asking for permission for a hug. You, without hesitation, allow it, approaching her and hugging her tightly, feeling her face resting above your head, allowing you to cry into her coat if you felt like you needed to.

— Don't forget to breath, it'll calm yourself. I'm here for you.

. Lucifer

He knows what gonna happen even before you. This man faces various emotional and psychological problems daily, he recognizes very well when someone seems to have a tendency to have a crisis. Especially coming from you.

The first thing he notices is your hand starting to shake and your eyes threatening to water. He's quick to cup your face with both hands, making sure you're looking and listening to him.

— Sweetie, hear me. — He asks in a gently voice, making sure not to get too close to you for fear that this would only trigger a sudden worsening of the attack. — Calm down, I'm with you, there's anything here that can hurt you.

Even with his supportive phrases, your tremor only got worse as your blood pressure only tended to drop, slowly obscuring your vision and slowing down your breathing.

— Here — His voice echoed in your mind, as if partially clearing the intrusive and distressing thoughts. An angelic voice. — Can you tell me five things in this room, please?

You didn't know from where this come, but tried to see something even with a bad vision. And you did it. Then he asked for four things that you could touch. After three that you could hear, after...

When you came to, out of the derealization, you noticed the tactic that he used to calm you down: 5-4-3-2-1, a way to distract the mind of fear to understand what was around you, consequently making you come to your senses when you noticed the space.

He also noticed as your breathing returned to normal and your body gradually shook less and less, smiling at you tenderly.

. Adam

He's a bitch. A fucking bitch.

At first, when he sees your eyes watering in the middle of the conversation he will think that some comment or joke of his got to you, and sincerely? He'd probably find it funny that you're bothered by this at this point.

— What's up, bitch? That wasn't even that aggressive — He responded in a mocking voice, leaning across the table toward you. His tone of voice was filled with a visible desire to laugh.

However, when he noticed that you ignored his comment and were shaking unnaturally, the expression on his mask changed to one that alternated between doubt and amazement.

The mask's mouth constantly opened and closed, as if he were interrupting whenever he thought about commenting on something.

— Fuck — He sighed heavily as he let out an audible curse, getting up from his seat and heading towards him, but stopped next to you when he noticed that he was a piece of shit with emotional comfort, especially with words of affirmation.

With an expression of uncertain, he took off his terminator mask and threw it on the table, looking at the office door, confirming that there was no one there that could burst into the room.

He then crouched down next to you, watching you cover your face with hands shaking, stifling a sob. Not really sure what do, he brought his hand to your back, patting it friendly as a strange way of showing support, since 1. he didn't know how to verbalize it and 2. he couldn't do it. But deep down he would like to try and provide some kind of support.

— I have no fucking idea how to help you, but... You know, if you need a shoulder, you've got me.

. Angel Dust

He knows what it's like to have an emotional breakdown and derealization, after all, it is something that constantly impacts him almost always after the work.

Despite the solution he always seeks for himself be the use of medication and perhaps a little alcohol, he would never make that an option for you since he doesn't want to inflict drug use on you. Health reason.

— Baby, is a hug okay? — he asks you in a compassionate tone, bowing his head slightly to the side as he raised his left hand to rest it on your shoulder.

When you nod, he wraps you in a hug with all four of his arms. A comfortable but not strong hug, allowing you to leave if you wish.

— You need to stabilize your heart rate, you know? Do what I do — He then took a deep breath for a few seconds and then let it out, repeating the process two more times before encouraging you to try.

You snuggled into your spot on the couch trying to control the shaking and tears as you repeated breathing exercise with difficulty. At first it was painful and burned your lungs, but Angel advised you to try again as soon as you felt like you could try.

— I don't have work today, how about a movie? I promise it won't be any of my big movies, your choice. — He laughed quietly, trying to lighten the sad mood with a light dirty joke as he picked up the controller. When he could hear a low chuckle from you, his smile grew.

. Alastor

He literally has no idea what happened to you. Alastor died before psychology studies were taken seriously, and particularly he was never someone very social or interpersonal, then see you having a mental imbalance suddenly was ridiculously weird.

He just stood there looking at you with that stupid smile on his face, trying to find some logic behind your attitude so that he could do something about it.

After a given moment thinking, in a snap of his fingers he manifested a tea set in the center table in the room. However, the withering smell of coffee took its place when he took one of the cups for himself and offered another one for you - one that smelled like valerian, a plant that helped with irregular heartbeat.

He looked at you as he sipped his own cup of black coffee with legs crossed, as if waiting for you to go ahead and drink the tea.

You then gave in and drank, pouring a few drops into your lap due to tremor. The tea actually wasn't that bad. As soon as he passed by your throat, the effect seemed to have already begun, gradually relaxing your muscles and calming your fear.

Along with the feeling of relaxation, an aroma of oils penetrated the room, making a combination in the air of more diverse aromas and smells in a pleasant mix.

By your side, Alastor beamed a satisfied smile as he helped himself to more coffee, talking to you again, occasionally asking if you wanted more tea or if you felt okay.

I love sm write comfort, but thinking about the angst before is painfully sad//

Thank you for read, have a good day or a good night :)

[thesunshinebunny]

Hey, can you do TWST form leaders crushing on/having a s/o with fairy wings please? (Fem or Gender Neutral)

Yes, yes, yes, I know, I'm super late. A lot of things happened and a lot more is still happening, but finally…FINALLY, I'm writing for you again. I hope that, after so much time, this hc is to your liking. Have a nice night.

Riddle

Throughout his childhood, Riddle didn't have the chance to meet many people, much less people with animal features Meeting Chanyan and being in Night Raven for two years, his perspective on human features changed completely.

And at no time did anything racist cross his mind.

Even so, seeing you in your ceremonial robe, with large holes in the back, instead of the hood and pants that he was so used to seeing, was a complete surprise.

If by chance you were to be chosen for Heartslabyul, Riddle would personally take care of arranging your room to your needs, including your uniform. Unfortunately it wast'n the case, for you being sent to Ramshackle, but that virtue of yours wouldn't be monopolized by dust and dirt.

Your visits to his dorm never go unnoticed. The sunlight coming into contact with your wings always creates a beautiful rainbow, even light effects, on the walls or around you.

It's like you have a multi-colored halo following you around wherever you go.

The animals also, for some reason, love to be on your lap. Your sensitive hands, your wings moving in the air, coiled in warm sunlight…

Riddle was fascinated.

You really did look like a fairy… a beautiful garden fairy, straight out of a fairy tale.

And then we can see Riddle's heart start to beat even faster, making his cheeks blush in the process.

Leona

A person with animal features…what a suprise. Although it was unusual to find someone with wings instead of ears and a tail; he also assumed that you were one of that species of bird.

It wasn't until he saw you in the botanical garden, next to a small fountain, surrounded by multiple flowers and plants, that he could see your wings more closely.

They had no feathers, they were transparent.

Anyway… an anomaly or something like that. Nothing that would prevent him from taking his daily nap.

But that was the problem, he couldn't, since the light that filtered through the glass of the botanical garden made your wings radiate and reflected those same rays, causing some to hit his eyes.

It wasn't until he opened his eyes furiously that Leona saw a multicolored aura on your back, accompanied by small flashes of light, as if it were stardust.

“An angel"... was what escaped from his lips, agape, seeing you turn towards him, letting your hair delicately run along the profile of your neck, and a smile formed on your face to greet him.

Leona from now on likes to take his naps with you, allowing himself to be lulled by your non-stop chatter about your land, while he watches your wings flutter delicately, even fragilely.

He is extremely protective of you, not allowing you to visit his dorm since he doesn't trust the strength, or in this case, kindness of his dorm mates… It isn't a dorm that is characterized by being precisely gentle and soft in its touch.

But Leona is. And he loves to feel and run through the multiple bifurcations that your wings have on the tips of his fingers. He loves to feel the small breeze the small movement of your wings generates when you are resting.

And above all, he loves to see your wings relaxed on your bare back first thing in the morning.

Azul

What a beautiful and peculiar sight, something new to investigate. Even manipulate. It's not every day you see a fairy at school.

Let's agree that Azul was one of the few people who remembered that Malleus was half fairy, and that… after countless failed attempts to ask and experience his race, your figure appearing through the doors of the Monstro Lounge was like a sign directly from heaven.

Obviously you weren't there for Azul, no. You had entered simply and plainly to see the multiple aquatic creatures that had been mentioned to you on the surface, but you were unable to see them from so close. So, what better place to have an excursion to the sea than the very dorm that housed those very creatures.

Azul, seeing he was being ignored over a common fish, was about to kick you out of the lounge, with the excuse of “no drink, no show”

And he was close, ohhh, he was so close…but when his eyes saw your transparent wings and the way the water distorted even more over them, how your wings generated small rays of sunlight that created paths for the fish and other creatures…he was simply enchanted.

VIP access for the rest of the year.

Azul is always inventing some excuses to go see you. “I brought you a potions book, maybe they will help you for the next exam.” “Jade baked a couple of cookies and asked me to bring them to you.” “I saw you liked a creature from our fish tank, so I brought it to you in a medium-sized one so you can admire it as long as you want.”

“I want to draw your wings” It wasn't the excuse he had planned for this day. His mouth betrayed him when he saw you in a dress characteristic of your lands. You looked so… beautiful.

“Sure, let me open the window to let in some light and sit on the couch.”

He nearly had a heart attack when you sat so delicately on the tangled couch, your ensemble lighting up the whole room.

Gods, Azul was in love with that light you emanated.

Kalim

“When you fly, do you loose fairy dust?” was the first thing Kalim said when he saw you in the ceremonial robe in front of the mirror.

He was ready to take you to Scarabia immediately and leave you under the sun to admire those huge, shiny wings. His disappointment was no less when he heard you're going to Ramshackle.

But that didn't stop him from visiting you, he even spent hours in your dorm next to you, admiring and tracing lines on your wings, tickling you and laughing under your breath.

One day Jamil had to come and take him out by the ears since he was neglecting his duty as dorm leader.

Kalim walked out the door with a face of a wet dog, he even almost started crying. Being away from your wings, from you, broke his heart.

He always found a way to sit next to you in class, he even went into classes that didn't apply to him, just to see you. And obviously he got a hard time from the teachers.

One night, Kalim invited you to a party at his dorm, preparing a grand banquet, a grand decoration, asking his dorm mates to wear their best robes.

And speaking of clothes, Kalim even prepared a change of clothes for you, if you were comfortable with that, obviously. He wasn't going to force you to wear something you felt uncomfortable or unpleasant in.

His face lit up when you told him it was no problem, that you loved to wear multiple and colorful clothes. The bigger your closet, the better.

And his face lit up even more when he saw you descending the stairs in his traditional red and white hindu outfit, adorned with the finest rubies and gold medallions. A bit ostentatious for your taste, but of an exquisite and soft finesse.

But the greatest ornament you wore was not the jewelry, nor the small and half headband that circled from the middle of your forehead back; but your smile. That ear-to-ear smile that he loved to admire so much.

The intention of the evening was to get you dancing, to make you spin to the tune of cheerful music, even to chat for hours. But Kalim was only interested in one thing. And that was the way the starting of your wings was delicately embraced by the soft fabric of the sari.

Vil

“Mirror, mirror on the wall, who is the most beautiful creature in the school?”

It was no surprise for Vil to see his reflection on his huge magic mirror, he was still the most beautiful person in the school…but he was disappointed to know that the same mirror had ignored his question. He didn’t ask about person, but about creature.

Now, don’t get me wrong, your own being was that of a person of flesh and blood, but your structure had a beastly part…like the Savannahclaw motto.

Vil was disappointed not to see your image in the mirror’s reflection.

Yes, Vil was enchanted by the beauty and brightness that characterized fairies, features he had never seen, and that you, who possessed the brightest and most beautiful wings that he had seen in his short life, were in this school specifically for villains…well, it was an opportunity he wasn't going to waste.

Whenever he could, he left his duties as dorm leader to see your profile in the corridors or sitting in the gardens. He admired the silhouette of your back, perfectly upright to support the weight of the wings, although to the naked eye, they gave the sensation of being made of paper, breakable and fragile paper.

Vil fantasized day and night being able to touch them, feel them with the tips of his fingers. He wished with a fierce intensity to be the owner of the laughter and small sounds that would surely be caused by the caresses he oh so deliciously wanted to give you. So much desire happened, without warning.

And from that day on, Vil only had eyes for you, for your figure, for your eyes, for your smile, for your light.

Yes, Vil was initially obsessed with the beauty of your fairy side, but now, deeper in their relationship, Vil was in love with your own beauty.

The way your back curved to change your top garment, the way your hair seemed like a continuation of those transparent wings. The way your figure fit so well with his when taking pictures, as your smile was the most striking thing in the shot.

The way the violet color reflected on the bifurcations of your wings and when the morning light hit them, it generated a beautiful and delicate violet ray.

Vil had never loved the uniform's violet color so much until you tried it on and wished with all his inner fire that you had been assigned to Pomefiore.

Idia

He saw you in flying class, without a broom, and yet you were flying with a grace that even the best flying wizard had.

And not to mention the little sparkles that floated around you as your wings fluttered. He was so mesmerized that he almost knocked over a tree.

Despite his reserved nature, Idia was irresistibly drawn to you. There was something about the way your wings unfolded, as if they were an extension of your own essence, that aroused in him a mixture of curiosity and admiration.

One day, after a long period of observation from a distance, which lasted for months, Idia decided to make an effort to get closer. He decided to approach the botanical garden, your little space of rest and relaxation to start a first conversation. Finding you lying on the grass, with your back to him, Idia couldn't help but blush.

There was something about the combination of natural elements and magic that felt like an extension of your personal charm. He blushed so much that he had to close his eyes to calm his poor, mortal heart, which was pounding like it was about to burst out of his chest.

Then he opened them again, you were floating above him, head down, letting your hair float in a strange way and your eyes were at the same height as his.

Idia realized that there was something more than fascination in his heart. Every time you laughed or moved your wings, he felt a spark in his chest, a warmth that couldn't be explained only by his fascination to that same sparkle your own wings gave off. It was something deeper, something that had slowly begun to blossom inside him.

From that day on, Idia began to look for excuses to spend time by your side, not only in the gardens, but also in the most common corners of the school.

He looked for you at your dorm, he took you to his. You showed him how wonderful nature could be on your lap, he showed you how peaceful time could be in a glimpse of the underworld.

Even at your side, he could feel like an eternal spring was lodged in his heart, waiting to receive the rays of your smile every day.

Malleus

Malleus, seeing you for the first time, a new student with fairy wings, someone of his own race, was captivated not only by your ethereal beauty, but also by the sense of ancient magic that emanated from you. To him, those wings represented a connection to the ancient myths, legends, and cultures he had studied so much for centuries.

Every time he saw you running through the grey halls of the school, his heart beat with a mix of intrigue and admiration, an unusual curiosity he had never felt before.

Malleus began leaving small gifts in the garden. Enchanted flowers and jewels that seemed to resonate with a soft glow, as if they were meant to be worn by you.

He felt an enormous sense of protection towards you. He saw you as tiny, fragile. He always made sure, from a distance, that you were safe. Even if it earned a reprimand from Lilia “you seem like a pretty shady stalker”

In your presence he often found himself in a state of silent admiration, caught up in the contemplation of your elegance and natural magic.

Malleus took any opportunity to be near you, even in everyday situations like walks around campus or visits to the library. Just being by your side was more than enough to melt his heart of stone.

Sometimes, at night and with the brightness of the stars as the only things present, Malleus surprised you with little surprises: an enchanted melody that only you could hear or a series of handwritten notes, full of sincere and tender confessions. A real Don Juan.

It wasn’t until the evening of a school festival that Malleus gathered the courage to ask for your hand…for a dance together under the moonlight. And dance, you danced, until the music stopped, until all you could hear were their moderately agitated breathing, until the light of dawn began to shine and welcome a new day.

Both of you danced until a bright, multi-colored aura surrounded you.

[sunny44]

Sparks and spats

Pairing: Lando Norris x Fem!reader

Warnings: Unrevised chapter, English is not my first language

Summary: Y/n and Lando can't go a minute without fighting with each other, but that's just a flawed way of hiding the sexual tension between them.

The tension between Lando and me was palpable. Since we first met, it seemed a simple glance could spark a heated argument. Our mutual friends, including Max F., had grown accustomed to the frenetic and fiery dynamic between us, who oscillated between teasing and almost kissing. The chemistry between us was undeniable, but both of us insisted on hiding it behind a facade of fights and barbs.

In recent months, our arguments had become almost a daily ritual. Any small comment could ignite another round of provocations. In the paddock, Lando would often tease me about my career decisions. I, in turn, would always find a way to jab at Lando in a sensitive spot.

"Do you really think that move in Padel was as amazing as you're making it out to be?” Lando asked, clearly provocatively.

"And do you really think driving poorly like that will get you the title?" I retorted, without losing my composure.

Our friends were no longer surprised. Max, especially, found amusement in our arguments, though he sometimes had to intervene to prevent things from going too far.

It was a Friday night, and the group of friends had decided to go to a nightclub to unwind after an intense week of training. The loud music and flashing lights created a perfect atmosphere to forget our problems and just have fun. However, the peace was interrupted when a rumor started circulating at our table: a mysterious blonde had been seen with Lando recently.

"I heard you've been seeing a girl, Lando,” Max said with a mischievous smile.

Lando rolled his eyes and sighed, visibly irritated by the insinuation.

"It's not true. You, of all people, should know not everything online is true. Besides, she's not my type.” He replied, trying to stay calm.

"So, what's your type then? Flirty blondes that boost your ego?” I said, with a challenging smile and a penetrating gaze.

Lando turned to face me, and for a moment, the club's noise seemed to disappear, leaving only the two of us immersed in the tension between us. He stepped closer, his eyes fixed on mine.

"Nah, more like sassy brunettes who roast me every chance they get,” he replied, his voice low and full of intensity.

The silence between us seemed to electrify the air around us. Max, noticing the situation, tried to shift the focus of the conversation but not before exchanging a complicit look with the other friends, who also noticed the charged exchange.

I looked away for a moment, feeling my heart race. Lando's provocation had hit me in a way I didn't expect. Maybe, behind all the fights and barbs, there was something deeper. Something neither of us was ready to admit.

The night continued, but the tension between Lando and me was now even more palpable. His words echoed in my mind, and I couldn't help but wonder what else was hidden behind those bright eyes and challenging smile.

As the night progressed, the dance floor became the club's focal point. The friends dispersed, some dancing, others chatting in smaller groups. Lando and I, however, remained at the table, the tension between us visible to anyone watching.

Max, always the mediator, decided to intervene.

"You two need to dance. Come on, get up. Enough provocations for one night, let's enjoy being together." he said, pulling me by the hand and pushing Lando towards the dance floor.

Reluctantly, we both followed the flow. When we reached the dance floor, the music changed to a slow, sensual beat, and Lando took the opportunity to pull me closer. His hands rested on my waist, and I, hesitantly, placed my arms around his neck.

"You really can't help it, can you?" I murmured, my voice barely audible above the music.

"Help what?" Lando asked, leaning in to hear better.

"Provoking me. Making me confused," I replied, my eyes shining under the club's lights.

"Maybe because you do the same to me. Maybe... because I like seeing how you react." Lando smiled, a genuine smile, different from his usual teasing grin.

"That's not fair, Lando," I sighed, feeling vulnerable.

"I know," he admitted, his expression softening. "But what if... what if all this is just a way to hide what we really feel?"

"And what do you feel, Lando?" I stopped, my eyes locking onto his, trying to decipher the sincerity in his words.

"I feel that, despite all the fights and barbs, there's something between us. Something real. Something worth exploring." Lando stepped closer, our bodies now practically touching.

"Do you think we can give this a chance? Stop the provocations and see what happens?"

"I don't think we can stop the provocations because that's already part of us,” he said, and we both started laughing. "And I want to try, if you do too."

I hesitated for a moment before finally smiling.

"Okay, Lando. Let's try." With that, he smiled and pulled my face closer to his and kissed me.

The music changed to a more upbeat rhythm, and Lando twirled me around the dance floor, laughing. For the first time in a long time, the tension between us seemed to be dissipating, replaced by a new feeling.

Our friends, watching from afar, exchanged satisfied looks. Max, in particular, couldn't hide a broad smile. Maybe, finally, the incessant fights were over, though it made the nights more entertaining for them. He knew Lando deserved someone who was sincere and cared for him as a person, not for his fame.

Bonus scene!

Yourusername Instagram stories

“I think I like him”

[xdinaryvamp]

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ 💿 ` teasan "never seen before"!!

where a mysterious stranger starts leaving notes in the books you read, hoping you'll write to him at the number he gave you.

genre : fluff, "secret" ( non so much ) admirer, gn reader.

pairings : bookwarm!taesan × bookwarm!reader.

if there was one thing you loved with all of your being it was reading.

you loved getting lost in the pages, traveling on ink and imagining worlds. you loved that fictional world much more than the real world, and you took refuge in it whenever you could.

books had made you know thousands of things, allowed you to experience emotions you had never felt before and created a corner that was just yours. the problem? they had also made you a hopeless romantic.

the characters in the stories were very different from the people who populated your daily reality, yet so plausible that you confused them with something possible in your everyday life. but it wasn't like that.

real people were much less predictable, more selfish, and less intelligent. not to mention the fact that you couldn't form an opinion of them at the end of the book, you had to get hurt to really get to know them, and you didn't want to suffer.

yet, even though you were aware of this rift between your two worlds, you continued to hope for that love similar to the fiction you read.

that's why that afternoon you had to do your best not to start laughing like an idiot all by yourself.

it was a day like any other, and taking advantage of the free time you took refuge in the library. not that you didn't like reading on your own at home, but there was an atmosphere in that building that made you feel at ease, so you went there as much as possible, even several times a week.

that particular day, you had to go to the bathroom, so you momentarily left the book you were reading on the table that was in front of you.

upon returning, inside the book you found a note, folded in two and hidden inside the page you were reading.

----- ☆

“i certainly have not the talent which some people possess, of conversing easily with those i have never seen before.”

i've seen you reading ‘pride and prejudice” two times this month, so i read it too, it was beautiful. you intrigue me, but i don't like starting conversations with people ( the quote should already be explanatory of this ). would you like to write to me first? i want to know more about you, besides your pretty face.

my number: ××× ××× ××××.

----- ☆

on average you wouldn't have done it, but the note in the book was too cliché that it didn't make you smile, and besides it made you curious.

you wrote to him. he had a photo of kurt cobain as his profile picture, so you had no idea what his face looked like. but you didn't care, you wanted him to remain a mystery.

you talked all day about books and music, and you were fascinated by his calm manner which was even noticeable in the messages. he would ask you what your favorite books were, and then he would read them. he would send you his playlists, and you would listen to them until you fell asleep.

he also complimented you from time to time; “you look beautiful”, “i loved the way your hair were styled today”, “i couldn't read anything, you were too distracting”.

you, on your side, never turned to see who those messages were from. you had an image of him, and you didn't want to ruin it.

teasan -that was his name- was your personal fictional boy, the crush you always wanted to have. what if meeting him ruined everything? you would have been destroyed by this.

you continued to talk to him for months, finding, those few times you left your seat, little notes and pieces of poetry in the book you were reading. they were never too romantic, but they still made your heart beat.

you always had to try your best not to react too much to these small gestures, especially when there were people around you.

like that morning, where the seat next to you was occupied by a beautiful boy busy reading a book by murakami. he looked like one of the male leads of a fantasy romance, with his soft black hair and a serious expression. in another circumstance you would have paid more attention to his appearance, but not that day, because in the moment in which you went to get a coffee from the coffee machine, another piece of poem had been inserted into your book.

----- ☆

[ . . . ] those rare strangers

who make me

catch my breath

the first time we meet.

[ . . . ] i am drawn to them

but do they see me?

or am i just part of

the wallpaper of their life?

susan ash. “first encounters”

----- ☆

you did your best to except smile as you placed the piece of paper in the pocket of your jeans. you had saved them all, and kept them in a box in your bedroom.

“i certainly have not the talent which some people possess, of conversing easily with those i have never seen before.” the boy next to you spoke, without moving his eyes away from the book he was reading.

your heartbeat lost a beat recognizing that words. “i'm sorry, what?”

he looked up from the book, and you were enchanted by the beauty of his eyes. you wanted to believe that he was the notes boy, that he was taesan, the guy you had a crush on, but you didn't want to disappoint yourself.

he smiled, and then he closed the book he was reading. “i don't want to be just the wallpaper of your life anymore, y/n.” he said, and you convinced yourself that it was really him.

“i would like to be a more tangible part of your life, if you'll let me.”

and of course you agreed. you were already in love with him, and by now the fear of the first meeting had vanished. there was nothing that could stop you from living your real fictional story with him.

[lostfracturess]

Hey Niciii!! 🌷

I know you didn't focus much on Nanami in s&c but I was wondering if you'll give us some headcanons about him? 🫶✨

professor!nanami headcanons (based on this fic)

professor!nanami who is an orthopedic surgeon and kinda hates his job, often finding himself daydreaming about alternative career paths during long surgeries. but the satisfying sound of bones cracking back into place always brings him back to reality.

professor!nanami who chose orthopedic surgery because he's always been a hands-on kind of guy. he'd rather solve problems physically than just theorize about them.

professor!nanami who, despite his love-hate relationship with his job, often stays late after shifts, practicing new surgical techniques to constantly improve his skill.

professor!nanami who briefly studied business before realizing this was even worse than medicine and switching back.

professor!nanami who, during his short time in the business world, found out that he is really good in investing. he secretly hopes he can retire early if he ever gets fed up with the whole surgery thing.

professor!nanami whose colleagues often complain about his lack of bedside manner, but his patients appreciate his honest and direct approach.

professor!nanami who has an ongoing rivalry with another orthopedic surgeon at a nearby hospital.

professor!nanami who finds geto and gojo incredibly annoying. to be fair, he thinks all neurosurgeons are annoying, believing they have a god complex.

professor!nanami who's known geto and gojo since their university days. they were all part of the same friend group, but nanami always felt like the responsible one who had to keep the other two in check.

professor!nanami who, back in their student days, was constantly bailing geto and gojo out of trouble.

professor!nanami who, at one point, got so fed up with geto and gojo's reckless behavior that he seriously considered transferring to another university. he even filled out the paperwork.

professor!nanami who is known for his blunt and sarcastic demeanor during lectures and has a reputation as a tough teacher but secretly enjoys mentoring dedicated and passionate students.

professor!nanami who often invites his most promising students to assist in surgeries, knowing that hands-on experience is the best way to learn.

professor!nanami who loves golf and plays every saturday morning with a group of fellow surgeons (the same orthopedic surgeons from the nearby hospital he claims to hate).

professor!nanami who once used his golfing skills to win a bet against a wealthy hospital donor who threatened to pull funding for a new orthopedic wing. he won, of course.

professor!nanami who is so good at golf that he could easily be a pro, but he would hate that even more than being a surgeon, so he doesn't pursue it.

professor!nanami who is known for his extensive tweed jacket collection, which he pairs with colorful ties. his students often try to guess the color of his daily tie, with some even placing bets on it.

professor!nanami whose students have noticed that he wears specific tie colors for certain occasions, like always wearing a dark green one during exams.

professor!nanami whose students have created a social media account called "nanami's neckwear" dedicated to his daily tie choices, gaining followers from all over the world. nanami doesn't know about the account.

professor!nanami who has a strict "no phone" policy during lectures.

professor!nanami who is a stickler for punctuality, always arriving at least 15 minutes early for lectures and surgeries. he's been known to lock the door at the exact start time of his classes, forcing latecomers to miss out.

professor!nanami who's been single for a while, focusing more on his career than his love life. he's had a few casual flings here and there but nothing serious.

professor!nanami who's always been more interested in long-term relationships than casual hookups. he's not really into the whole one-night-stand thing.

professor!nanami who, when he goes on a date, always insists on paying. he may be a bit of a grump, but he's still a gentleman at heart.

professor!nanami who, when he does start seeing someone, likes to take things slow and really get to know the person. he's not one to rush into anything too serious too quickly.

professor!nanami who, despite his busy schedule, always makes time for date nights when he's in a relationship. 

professor!nanami who's actually a pretty attentive and caring partner when he's in a relationship. he just shows his affection in subtle ways.

professor!nanami who, when he finally does find "the one," will be the most loyal and devoted partner anyone could ask for.

© lostfracturess. all rights reserved. do not copy, repost, translate, or modify my work without permission. thanks for reading and supporting my work !! ♡

[jedi-enthusiasm-blog]

No small part of Legends seems determined to make the Jedi look bad and the Sith look good. Considering the Sith are inspired by nazis and fascists, it's both funny and deeply concerning.

But I digress.

One of these attempts is the character Darth Vectivus, a human male Dark Lord of the Sith during the time of the Galactic Republic, when the Sith are in hiding. Apparently, he's a man with friends, with a family he loves and who love him back, a regular job… He's a perfectly normal guy, a perfectly mundane dude among thousands of megalomaniacs.

His first appeareance is as a ghost (some funky Dark Side thingy he created, btw), when he's trying to convince a Jedi (don't remember this one, I think it was a girl?) to strike him down. This is because these ghosts are connected to a living being, if the ghost is striken down, the being they're connected to dies. Vectivus is connected to Jacen Solo, who's on the edge of falling to the Dark Side. Apparently, Vectivus does not want a galaxy ruled by the kind of Sith Jacen Solo (or rather Darth Caedus) would become.

But, unlike other attempts at making the Sith look good in the EU, I actually like this guy. Why? Mostly for the funnies, not gonna lie. This Dark Lord of the Sith, the ultimate villain of the SW universe… is a perfectly normal guy with the same problems in his life as the rest of us.

Vectivus didn't know he was Force sensitive until his adulthood when, while doing Business™️, he and his employees came across a Dark Force nexus inside one of the mines they were working in. Fascinated by the power he could feel, he disolved his business, gave compensation to his employees, and went to search for the surviving Sith who could teach him. However, despite his Sith training, he remains a perfectly normal guy who lives a perfectly mundane life until his death, when he dies surrounded by friends and family. It's hilarious, can you imagine his Master's face? The sheer dissapointment?

He has restrain and moral standards. For example, he seems to be a decent boss and doesn't exploit his employees, cares for his friends and family and, just by guessing, isn't a complete asshole to his Apprentice since, whoever they are, they opt not to kill him despite the existance of the Rule of Two.

And yet… we find out he's still economically predatory, he still abuses his powers to harm and profit over rivals, and generally win at business. He isn't causing harm to those close to him, but he's still harnessing the Dark Side to hurt others.

That's the whole point, the Dark Side is always corruptive. Darth Vectivus is just less corrupted than most Sith.

That's it, that's what I like the most about the guy. He seems normal, is normal in a way… and yet he's still an evil bastard, only the regular evil bastard we find in our daily lives instead of the murderous crazy no-sense-of-restrain kind of Evil Bastard™️ we're used to see in a Sith.

It's… a bit of a grim reminder that evil is everywhere, in everyone, including you, and it can take many forms. That even the most kind-seeming people can be evil.

On the other side, the people he's murdered are… zero. Nonexistant, zero, nada. He's killed absolutely nobody. It's actually pretty funny. He's the only non-murderous Sith in existance, literally the only sane man in an Order of fascist megalomaniacs and it's hilarious.

I'm rather glad for his existance, actually, thanks Legends. Mostly because now I can say that I've killed as many people as a Dark Lord of the Sith.

[renranram]

My Barista ⊹ ࣪ ˖

sfw

where quackity starts to leave paper hearts for barista y/n every single day || short btw

alex had caught an interest for the new barista from the café he had been going ever since he attended college

he liked you because of your personality, he finds you kind, friendly and approachable but never had the balls to talk to you unless he has to order something

“ look, why don't you just talk to them man? it's that simple, just say hi, i find you attractive and shit like that can i get your number? “ his friend, karl, states as alex groans out, fixing his earbuds as he glances at you

the man was in a call with karl, hoping for a collab but it leads on to him ranting about you, “ you know it's not that easy, i mean, just look at them, they're so pretty, and kind, and shit like that “ alex sighs out

“ be glad im filming for a video, if i was there i would be the one to tell them “ karl continues to scold his bestfriend, “ yeah yeah of course you would “ alex chuckles as he fixes his beanie

“ oh, what's that? “ he asks, spotting a heart shaped paper on karl’s background, “ oh, jimmy challenged us to make origamis and stuffs “ karl grabs the heart shaped origami as he got it closer to the camera

“ it's cute “ alex commented as karl shrugs, smug, “ because i made it “ he flips his hair as alex could only chuckle before glancing up at you again

“ uh… how can you make that? “ he asks, “ it's really simple! “ karl exclaims as he guides alex, gently folding the paper in even sides then creating a paper heart

and after that, history was made, at first, he didn't actually mean to leave the paper, he forgot to pick it up because he was rushing, but seeing you smile as you pick up the paper heart, he started intentionally leaving them

and you, didn't mind, you cleaned his table everytime he leaves, hoping he'd leave another and he does, it was kinda awkward every time he orders, the two of you woupd avoid eye contact but both will be a blushing mess

“ see! im literally such a pogger “ karl cheers for him, “ yeah yeah yeah, whatever… the only problem is uhh… i kind of… don't know how to properly talk to them “ he scratches the back of his head

“ bruh “ karl exclaims, “ hm… what about you leave your number on one of the paper hearts? “ karl suggested as alex chuckles, “ fuck no, and make them think im a creep? “

“ come on! just try it, dont be so ballsy “ karl insists as alex pause, “ ill think about it “ he mutters

he left two papers for you this time, a note and the usual paper heart, ‘ open the heart:) ‘ the note states as you slowly unfolds the heart, seeing his number wrote inside

you of course hesistated first, thinking this was just a small joke or a prank but you're unaware how he would rant about you to his twitch chat and friends, his twitch chat knowing you as ‘ his favourite barista ‘

at first your texts are very awkward, but the moment you mentioned a hobby of yours it just immediately clicked, everyday he'd go on the café daily, the two of you would chat if the only customer was him

days go by, and by just a blink, alex lays his head on your shoulder, “ happy anniversary babe “ he mumbles, smiling as he pecks your cheek

“ 3 years “ you added, intertwining your hands with his as you two sat on a park, just admiring the fine summers day, “ is it really that long already? “ he chuckles as alex sits up

“ maybee “ you laugh as you open your picnic basket, setting down the strawberry that alex would always order and some other snacks too of course

as you set things up alex looks at you with admiration and a smile, fixing your hair as he pulls out a paper heart from his pocket, gently handing it to you

“ oh? “ you ask, looking at him in confusion, “ you should unfold it or something “ he smiles at you cheekily

you slowly unfold the neatly folded paper, ‘ will you marry me? ‘ the paper reads out as you gasp, as suddenly alex was in one knee, holding out a small box for you

looking up at you, “ i know this isn't your ideal proposal but uh “ he scratches the back of his head as you tackle him with a hug, already sobbing

you press kisses all over his face, leaving your lipstick marks as alex could only chuckle, gently guiding you to wear your engagement ring

[mrs-sharp]

The Eyes Of Graphorns

Pairing: Aesop Sharp x f! Adult MC

Summary: Elaine returns to Hogwarts after her stay in St. Mungo's but she doesn't seem to be prepared to resume her daily routines yet. Sharp finds her in a quite concerning state when they're finally reunited.

Read chapters 1-11 here.

TW: violence, blood

Chapter 12 - Dancing With Your Darkness

There were days when the pain was bearable. And there were the dark days. Those days when she didn't even know the date and didn't care. Those days when she didn't leave the bed and didn't know if it was the curse or resignation that held her there. Those days when she saw the shadows of those she had lost. On these days, Scarborough wasn't on a far-off coast but creeping into her room to fulfill every inch with its prophecy, seeping through the windows, walls, and doors to slowly drown her. Again and again, she encountered her father's face, which she should have forgotten but had now found its way back to her. And again and again, the flames embraced him after he turned to her one last time. He had smiled as if he knew that this would be the image of him that would remain with her.

Months had passed, and she knew she wasn't here to hope for a healing process but to learn to cope with the pain. She knew it would stay, and it was up to her to welcome it into her life. Or to give up.

-

The summer months were the only time when Aesop Sharp was more often seen outside the castle. The warmth relaxed the muscles in his leg, allowing him greater and longer mobility. He enjoyed wandering through the Hogwarts gardens, which Mirabel had designed so lovingly. However, he mainly came here when he needed time and peace to think. Sharp walked down to the castle's battlements in front of the Hufflepuff common room windows and leaned on them with his hands. He kept replaying the scenes from Scarborough in his mind. Who was the woman who looked so much like Elaine, and what did her words mean? Had Elaine really lived in Scarborough, or had she just been there by chance? Was she involved in the attack? And what about the kidnapping? No matter how much he thought about it, he couldn't find an answer to these questions that didn't lie in Scarborough, and he would be damned if he went back there. Of course, there was still the Ministry...

'Damn,' he shouted, louder than he intended.

'So, which student ruined your mood this time?'

Sharp looked sullenly to the side to find the source of the familiar voice.

'Dinah...'

Professor Hecat had approached unnoticed from behind and stood next to the Potions Master.

'I thought you might need some company. Ever since Professor Hopkins left us, we hardly see you anymore. We don’t even know what exactly happened when you two were away.'

Sharp looked into the distance. In front of them, the afternoon sky reflected blue and peaceful in the Black Lake. For a moment, it was silent. Only the wind was heard, creating small waves over the water and doubts in Sharp's mind.

'What do you know about prophecies, Dinah?'

'You know I can't talk about that. Why don't you ask Mudiwa?'

That was the answer Sharp had hoped for. Of course, Hecat wouldn't break her confidentiality, but her answer was a hint that the Department of Mysteries was indeed connected to prophecies and it wasn't just rumours. Otherwise, she could have simply said she didn't know anything about it.

'Never mind, that's all.'

Dinah Hecat looked at him sceptically, and her expression darkened.

'Listen to me. Don't even think about it. That place is dangerous. You have no idea how dangerous, especially for the uninformed. I don't know what you two were up to the day Hopkins was injured, I only know that you were drenched in blood when you returned. In her blood. So if she really means something to you, I'd advise you to stay alive and ensure she does too.'

'Well, there's the problem, isn't it? No one can tell me what I can do to keep her alive. I've already lost Helen. I can't just sit by and watch as I lose another woman I...'

He didn't finish the sentence. He felt that if he spoke aloud what had long been evident deep within him, it would become real, and the loss would be even more painful. The truth had to remain hidden and, if necessary, be buried with the memory of Elaine.

'Their souls are one, but their paths diverge. Only one can preserve the future of the other, but won't be able to save it.'

These words haunted his thoughts, poisoning his mind. Perhaps it was meant to be. Perhaps he wasn't supposed to save her, but maybe he could preserve her future. And maybe the only way to achieve this was that they couldn't spend that future together. Sharp's fingers dug into the ridges of the stone until his knuckles turned white. Then his gaze fell on a figure slowly moving across the bridge from the south exit towards the faculty tower. She had a slightly bent gait, holding onto the bridge's railing with one hand, and the afternoon sun danced playfully through her reddish hair. Sharp felt longing and determination battling within him, and he couldn't look away from her fragile beauty. Just one last time...

'Excuse me, Dinah, I have to go,' Sharp said, turned, and disappeared back into the castle. Dinah Hecat watched him go, shook her head thoughtfully, and said quietly, 'Denying it only makes it worse, my friend.' But Sharp didn't hear her.

-

When Elaine arrived at the faculty tower, she didn't enter her room. She had missed Hogwarts, but she had never found her late mentor's quarters particularly inviting. She already had her hand on the door handle when she changed her mind and turned back.

-

Aesop Sharp knocked on the door of the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom office. Silence. He had already looked in the faculty tower, the Great Hall, and even his own classroom. Nothing. Yet he was sure he had seen Elaine enter the castle from the south bridge. Was she with a colleague? She could be anywhere in Hogwarts, but why hadn't she told him she was returning? Not that she owed him an explanation, but Sharp felt a slight burning in his chest at the thought that she might not want to see him. While he pondered whether his senses had deceived him, he remembered one last place he hadn't checked.

When Sharp entered the Room of Requirement, it had changed. It was dark as if it were night, even though it was late afternoon. Moonlight fell through the ceiling window. There was junk everywhere. Old chairs, tables, and cabinets. Gramophones, mirrors, portraits, instruments, telescopes, and stacks of books. It was as if everything that wasn’t needed in Hogwarts anymore had gathered in this one place for centuries. At first, he thought Elaine wasn't here, but then he found her in a secluded corner of the room, sitting on the floor with her legs drawn up, conjuring small paper cranes that fluttered elegantly and sadly through the room. In the dark, it was hard to see, but Sharp noticed she was trembling.

'That's a wonderful spell,' Sharp broke the silence, looking at the cranes. The room made his voice sound deeper than usual. His words warmed Elaine a little where the cold stone wall touched her back.

Elaine had noticed Sharp's irregular gait long before he stood next to her. She didn't look at him. Sharp didn't speak. There was that feeling again – it was like looking at himself 20 years ago. Time and place had gotten out of sync in the hospital, she tried to find her footing, but she kept grasping at nothing. Her mind no longer fit in this body, and it felt confined and trapped.

'Professor...' she began. Her voice, which had always radiated calm, crumbled and eventually broke, leaving only a hoarse scratch. 'Professor, I don't know how...' Her words faltered and stumbled, finally falling to the ground. 'This isn't me,' she pressed out, burying her face in her hands.

Sharp swallowed. He wanted to say, 'Yes, it is,' and that she was alright the way she was because it didn't matter in which body her sharp mind resided, her grace, her kindness, her empathy, her passion. He wanted to tell her she was valuable – to the wizarding world, to her students, to... him. That all the qualities that defined her were still there, but he couldn't. He couldn't because he knew it wouldn't sound right coming from the mouth of someone who had spent years searching for a cure for this damn curse.

Instead, he walked up to Elaine until he stood in front of her. He had no idea what he was doing. In his thoughts he repeatedly told himself not to do it, that he should turn around and leave the room, his feet however seemed to automatically carry him towards Elaine.

'Come,' he said softly, his voice gently thawing Elaine's frozen thoughts, and he extended his hand to her. Elaine looked at him. Why was Aesop Sharp always there when she was at her most vulnerable? Why did he bother with her in this miserable state that he has tried to avert for years? Without thinking about what she was doing, she took his hand and let Sharp pull her to her feet. She whimpered softly as a sharp pain shot through her abdomen, radiating through her insides to her back and legs. When Elaine stood up, a queasy feeling crept through her stomach, she staggered a little, and felt her legs give way, but something held her. Before she knew what was happening to her, she found herself in Sharp's embrace.

'Why?' she whispered. 'Why are you still here? I've failed. Always.'

Sharp didn't answer. Instead, he tightened his arms around her. Elaine let herself be enveloped by Sharp's presence. She felt the gentle rise and fall of his chest. Heard his heartbeat. The steady, unyielding rhythm of life flowing through his veins, which for this one moment seemed to flow in harmony with hers. Elaine didn't know when someone had last been allowed to be so close to him, who had last listened to the steady breath in his chest, but the gentle consistency of his grip and the hesitant tension of his muscles told her that it must have been a long time. Only after a while did Elaine notice that somewhere in the room, a harp had begun to play.

'Music,' Sharp remarked calmly, as if answering a question Elaine hadn't asked. 'Music has always helped me to forget.'

It wasn't right. It wasn't right what he was doing and how much he enjoyed it, Sharp thought, but he couldn't help himself. Once she was somewhat steady on her feet again, Sharp placed one hand on Elaine's hip and let the other carefully glide to Elaine's hand, waiting for her to respond to his unspoken question by touching his fingers. He gently closed his hand around hers. Elaine felt the warmth of his skin spreading through her body, calm and fragile.

They began to move slowly to the rhythm of the music. Sharp couldn't believe that she had accepted his invitation, that he was allowed to feel the movements of her body against his own. He had forgotten what it felt like to be this close to someone. It was as if he was holding an entire life in his arms. Each step they took together brought them a little closer. For years, he had refused to lead the grace of a woman through a dance, not just because of his injury, but more out of fear of compromising his and her dignity. Now he realized how much he had longed for this kind of intimacy, for the delicate feeling of slender fingers in his hands, for the soft touch of skin on his own, for the warm scent of elegant femininity, for the feeling of his heartbeat meeting another. Elaine was much stronger than she wanted to admit, he thought. Sharp couldn't understand that he was the one who was allowed to hold her in his arm at this moment and share the unspoken between them. He knew it was wrong. She had been his student for years, and he was an old and broken man, but at this moment, he didn't want to think about that and just feel the shared rhythm of their souls.

For some inexplicable reason, Elaine's pain seemed to lessen. She didn't know if it was the movement, the warmth between them, or Sharp's touch, but she felt light and free as she hadn't in months. It was as if Sharp's presence was carrying her. The confidence that Sharp exuded told her that he had once been a decent dancer. Her own steps were shaky and awkward, partly because she felt the curse weakening her further, and partly because each of Sharp's touches sent the feeling of a cool summer rain across her skin. Elaine noticed him lowering his head, and she closed the last remaining distance between their faces so that she felt the rough scratch of his beard on her skin, which took her breath away for a split second. She noticed that Sharp also paused for a moment. Elaine absent-mindedly stroked his upper arm. She closed her eyes and immersed herself in his presence, where the shadows of the night suddenly weren't so loud anymore.

They both let themselves be carried away by the music into a moment that belonged only to them. The melody of the harp seemed to embrace them with comfort. They turned in slow circles through the room, forgetting the horrors of the past years. The desire for this moment to never end united them in peaceful harmony.

Suddenly, Elaine felt a wave of dizziness overwhelm her. 'Not now,' was the last thing she thought before she stumbled and her knees gave way. It took a few seconds for the pain to set in, more intense and devastating than before, as if the time with Aesop Sharp had been only a postponement of what awaited her. Elaine noticed that Sharp caught her fall just in time to gently let her slide to the floor, where Elaine collapsed with a whimper. She felt the curse sucking the vitality from her body, feeding on her magic and spreading like a parasite, greedily devouring her lifetime.

'Elaine...'

Sharp's voice gently reached her ear. The way he said her name gave her both support and fear. How had she allowed someone to get so close? Even before she had discovered that it was an Obscurus that had attacked her, she had known that this curse meant her end. Why did she allow others to suffer because of it? Why did it have to be Sharp who had taken care of her? She should never have given in to the temptation to return; she should have continued her life as a loner, settled somewhere far away, and let time do the rest...

Elaine hadn't noticed that Sharp had awkwardly knelt beside her to help. When she felt his hand on her upper arm, everything happened very quickly. She flinched, gathered her remaining strength, and pushed Sharp away from her as if by reflex. He lost his balance and fell backward, landing on his left leg, and a terrible yelp escaped his lips. Only when Elaine saw the horror in Sharp’s eyes, where a few seconds ago there had been a caring understanding, she realized what she had done. Nausea crawled through her insides. Her first impulse was to go to him and help him, but then she decided otherwise: 'Leave...' she pressed out, but initially with little conviction. Elaine saw Sharp's facial features relax a little.

'But...' he began, but before he could protest, Elaine interrupted him.

'Leave, immediately!'

This time she shouted. She shouted at him for the first time in her life, and in such a shocking way that she noticed something in Sharp's gaze that she had never seen in it before. It was fear. With great effort, he stood up. Obviously, he was in severe pain. It tormented Elaine to see him like this. She wanted nothing more than to get up and apologize for her behaviour, but she didn't move. Sharp said nothing as he stood up and turned to her once more. Elaine couldn't interpret his expression, but it left a cold emptiness in her chest that she otherwise only knew from her few visits to Azkaban. Then he turned and left the room without a word. When the uneven sound of his footsteps had faded and she heard the door close behind Sharp, Elaine collapsed sobbing on the stone floor. The moonlight in the Room of Requirement disappeared, leaving her in complete darkness. He was gone.

It was for the better.

-> Chapter 13 - Haegel's Ham I

[alilixx]

Could you do dr 13 smut

You know how to talk to me ! With pleasure! Sorry for being late <3

Warning: Mature, NSFW, cold relationship, smut, hospital.

Pairing: Remy Hadley x Fem!Reader

It was late at night, the time when the city dozed off under a starry veil. The rooftop of the building was one of the few places where you could still find a semblance of tranquility in this urban tumult. Remy Hadley, a doctor at Princeton-Plainsboro, often came up here to escape the pressures of her daily life. That night, however, a gentle sound of guitar caught her attention as soon as she reached the top step of the staircase.

On the rooftop, bathed in the silvery glow of the moon, you were playing the guitar. The melodious notes floated in the night air, creating a serene and almost magical atmosphere. Remy stayed back, her steps silent on the concrete, not wanting to disturb this delicate moment.

She watched you, your face expressing intense concentration and evident passion. The music seemed to transport you elsewhere, and Remy couldn't help but smile slightly, finding in this scene a simple yet poignant beauty. The cool night breeze gently caressed your face, and the stars above you sparkled as if to accompany your melody.

After a few minutes, you noticed her presence. You looked up, slightly surprised to see someone else here at this late hour. Remy nodded and gave a reassuring smile, keeping her distance to avoid intruding.

"Hi," she said softly, her voice blending harmoniously with the last notes of your song. "That was beautiful. Do you often come here to play at night?"

You hesitated for a moment, still taken aback by this unexpected encounter, then responded with a shy smile. "Yes, it's my refuge. And you, do you come here often?"

Remy slowly approached, stopping at a respectful distance. "Yes, it's my favorite place to escape reality a bit. I'm Remy, by the way."

"Nice to meet you, Remy. I'm Y/N."

You spent a long time talking, sharing snippets of your lives under the stars, the guitar forgotten between you.

The next morning, the sun filtered through your bedroom curtains, gently waking you. The previous evening on the roof with Remy came back to you, a smile forming on your face. However, the persistent pain that had led you to see a doctor quickly resurfaced, reminding you of the urgency of your situation.

You went to Princeton-Plainsboro Hospital, hoping to get some answers. After a short wait, you were called in for a consultation. Sitting in the exam room, you were surprised to see Remy walk in. Her eyes widened slightly in recognition.

"Hi," she said with a smile, though her gaze showed a hint of concern. "I didn't expect to see you here. What brings you in?"

You explained your symptoms: diffuse pain, unexplained fatigue, and occasional vision problems. Remy listened attentively, her expression shifting from friendly to professional concentration.

"I'll talk to Dr. House," she said finally. "He's the best at diagnosing complex cases."

A few hours later, Remy was in House's office, advocating for you. House, sitting behind his cluttered desk, listened with a look of half-interest, half-amusement.

"She plays guitar on the roof at night, and now she's here as a patient," House said, nodding. "Life is full of amusing coincidences. Okay, I'll take her case."

Remy joined you in the waiting room, reassuring you with a smile. "Dr. House is going to take your case. He's brilliant, a bit eccentric, but the best. We'll find out what's wrong."

The following days were filled with tests, analyses, and meetings with House and his team. You were impressed by Remy's determination to find the cause of your symptoms. House, true to form, oscillated between sarcasm and genius, but every time Remy entered the room, a subtle but palpable camaraderie was felt.

The discussions were often intense. House threw out extravagant hypotheses, Foreman and Taub debated the possibilities, and Remy, always calm and focused, offered her own perspectives based on what she knew about you. Your condition remained a mystery, with symptoms that seemed to defy all medical logic.

One night, as you struggled to find sleep in your hospital room, Remy burst in with a gleam in her eyes. "I think we've found something," she said. She explained that they had discovered a rare anomaly in your blood tests that could explain your symptoms. House had ordered a series of additional tests to confirm the diagnosis.

The next morning, you found yourself once again in House's office, surrounded by his team. House, with his usual enigmatic air, explained that you had a rare but treatable autoimmune disease. The relief was immense, and you thanked each of them for their dedication.

That evening, after completing the paperwork for your treatment, Remy joined you on the hospital roof, holding your guitar. The sky was clear, the stars sparkling like the night you first met.

"I thought you might like to play a little," she said, handing the instrument to you, her tone detached.

You took the guitar with gratitude, the first notes rising softly into the night air. Remy sat down beside you, her features closed off and her gaze distant, contrasting with the gentleness of the melody.

"Thank you, Remy. For everything," you said, placing a hand on hers, hoping to break the ice.

She briefly squeezed your hand in return, her eyes quickly glancing up at the sky. "It was just my job. And besides, I couldn't leave a patient without care."

Despite the coldness of her words, you sensed a certain tension in the air, an unspoken connection. You continued to play, each note carrying a bit of your emotion.

After a long moment of silence, Remy sighed softly. "You play really well," she said, her tone softening slightly.

"Thanks," you murmured. "It helps me escape."

Remy nodded, her eyes fixed on the stars. "I understand."

The melody continued to float in the air, and slowly, the distance between you seemed to shrink. Finally, you stopped playing and placed the guitar beside you. Remy turned to you, her gaze intense.

Without thinking, you leaned in slightly, your heart pounding. Remy remained still, as if hesitant, then she closed her eyes and closed the distance between you. Your lips met in a tender and uncertain kiss, she placed her hand on your neck to draw you closer, and you let her. After a few seconds, she pulled away, giving you a simple gesture. You were alone on the roof again, bewildered. After playing the guitar for a few more minutes, you returned to your hospital room, waiting patiently for sleep.

The next morning, you were awakened by a loud tap of a cane against your hospital room window. It was House, a smirk on his face, looking at you through the glass. "You can leave," he announced abruptly. "The treatment is waiting for you at the exit."

You simply nodded, still a bit groggy, and began to pack your things. As you were leaving your room, you ran into Remy, who handed you a package with your medications.

"Here are your medications," she said, her tone still somewhat detached. But you noticed a gleam in her eyes, something invisible to others.

"Thank you, Remy," you replied with a sincere smile. She gave you a small smile in return before turning back to her work.

You left the hospital, feeling both relieved and a bit nostalgic. Once home, you set your things on the table and noticed a small note slipped among your medications. Intrigued, you picked it up and unfolded it.

There was an address and a phone number, written in handwriting you recognized immediately. It was Remy's. Next to the contact information, she had added a brief note: "If you ever need anything."

A smile spread across your face. Despite her apparent coldness, Remy had taken a step towards you, showing that she cared more than she wanted to admit. You kept the note carefully, feeling touched by this gesture.

Later in the evening, after taking your first medications, you picked up your phone and dialed the number. Your heart beat faster with each ring.

"Hi, I guess this is Y/N?" said the feminine voice on the other end. It was Remy, who suggested you come over to her place tonight, which you, of course, accepted.

You found yourself at her place, on her bed underneath her. If you were honest, you had forgotten the steps where you both undressed, though she didn’t give you time to think about it. You felt her tongue on your collarbone just after her teeth had bitten to give you a hickey. You could feel her hands on you, gradually moving closer to your climax.

Her hands grabbed your hip to pull you closer to her. She started to gently caress you until she slowly inserted a finger when she saw that you were ready. She had fun thrusting in and out of your vagina while you moaned her name. She added one more finger while kissing you. You groaned in displeasure when you saw him walk away to grab a vibrator.

Her fingers going back and forth inside you in addition to the vibrations of the toy, you couldn't stand and you came on her fingers which she made you lick.

After that, she lay down next to you, kissing you and explaining that you were just a one-night stand but you will change her mind. At least you hoped so.

[kob131]

Hey so did you see some of the concept art for Jaune? Apparently he may or may not have been originally written as Ozpin's intended host before the concept split off to create Oscar.

Assuming this is true (I think there may have been a stream I missed so I haven't seen the art)-

I am not surprised. Oscar has a lot of elements that made him VERY similar to Jaune between the 'normal guy thrust into adventure' concept, the relationship between them and Ruby being that of a normal person who is trying to live up to an ideal that Ruby embodies and how both...just kind of suck in a fight and contribute through their smarts or other means. To go a bit further-

I don't think it's coincidence that, if the concepts spilt around the production of V3-4, that V4 introduced Oscar and Jaune starting losing relevance in V4. Almost like there was a shift in the writers' room around this, like maybe a certain writer whose noted for liking Oscar and didn't like writing Jaune for outside reasons decide to split the two so he didn't get MORE harassment...

Before anyone gets any bright ideas- Everything beyond noting character similarities is just a conspiracy theory I've had for a while that Oscar was made to supplant some of the writing originally dedicated to Jaune because Miles, Kerry or both didn't want to cause more Jaune problems than what was happening. Remember, even now Jaune is called a self-insert of Miles. Back in V4, people were thinking that asking Miles when he was gonna die was an okay joke. I don't know if anything I said is true or not, do not take it as truth. I bring it because I just woke up and I found it oddly connected.

Anyway, about the concept- I think it could work. Jaune wants to be a hero like his dad and grandpa and Ozpin, as it turns out, IS a famous and legendary hero. But Ozpin has lost the features that made him a noble hero, slowly being worn down to a shadier, more cynical man showing how harsh such a role can be. And both are connected to Ruby and her heroism, with Ozpin seeing it as what he lost and Jaune seeing her as what inspires him.

Jaune can even be seen as a parallel to Salem since Pyrrha's self sacrifice and supportive role in Jaune's life could reflect how Ozma saved Salem and supported her with them both poorly coping afterwards.

Oscar does work somewhat as he's able to communicate the stress and pressure of the situation better than Jaune, a guy who ASKED for this kind of thing, could. He would have been better in an extended V4 where we saw more of his daily life and how he longed for an adventure. But both he and Jaune do work as Ozpin's successors, just in different ways.

Also, RWBY found some partners, there's hope for a continuation!

That I actually did hear about. Pretty glad they're finding work again, especially in possibly finishing RWBY.

Things can still fall through. But there is hope they can finish what Monty started...without the workplace abuse.

[the-kr8tor]

I'd say we're friends, 🪦anon...good friends>:). Daily Hobie HC! Watch as I do something called procrastination for the dr facilier hobie cus i have not watched the movie (I really want to). Ever since the accidental face reveals, Spidey, or Hobie, and you, have been more closer than ever, now finally being able to properly hang out without the masks. Hobie has a habit of swinging by as he's starting his patrol around the city, checking in to see if you'd be willing to patrol with him as well. Most of the time, you gladly suit up and following him. Patrols with you always get dragged out, mainly since he can't hold back teasing you at least a little bit. Patrolling would always house some games of chase before you both could finish for the night. And even then, you two almost never return to your own houses, usually staying the night at each other's. Hobie usually invites you to stay over at his houseboat, the two of you often sleeping in his bed and even cuddling during the night, Hobie's arms wrapped around your middle. He finds comfort in your aroma, often burying his face into your neck when the two of you are in casual, non-vigilante personas. At random intervals, Hobie will appear beside you, engaging in some light conversation with a pastry, mirroring your actions towards him as you let your helmet fade away and eating the sweet pastry, leaning against him. Hobie enjoys your presence, happy for the fact you both were comfortable enough to be so close like this, especially with masks off, when they were most vulnerable. Even so, if Hobie needed to blow off steam, he gave you some time to prepare for his hits and secure your mask, before venting out his pent-up frustration. You were the same, always giving him a few minutes to prepare and put his Spidey-mask on, before lunging at him with bottled emotions fueling your every step. After the fights, you both would retreat back to one of your houses, tending to each other's injuries with such care, his warm hands making you want to press and nuzzle your entire body into his, yet you refrain, listening as he rants about his problems to you. Or, Hobie's listening to you rant about your problems to you, feeling the desire to press his lips against yours, even if its for a brief moment, curious on how it'd feel. One fateful day, while Hobie was being pummeled into the ground by Doc Ock, you managed to swiftly make your way into battle, your robotic claws tearing off one of the tentacles to defend Hobie from getting another blow. Hobie smiles underneath his mask at your appearance, groaning as he slowly got up, watching you keep Doc Ock busy until he can get himself together. Grabbing his special pick, he ran up to the fight scene, slipping off the guitar off his back and striking at the chords. A wave emitted from his guitar, causing you to drop to the ground and lay flat to minimize damage, chuckling as Doc Ock was pushed back with a loud yell. Quickly joining Hobie by his side after the effect was over, you two manage to finish the fight, yet not without getting some serious injuries. You manage to carry Hobie back to his houseboat, seeing as he was more battered, bruised and tired due to being in the fight for longer than you. You take off your robotic claws as to not cause damage, the pads of your fingers gliding along his skin as you cleaned off the grime and dirt from his injuries, massaging little circles into his skin as he jolted. After thorough cleaning and applying stitches, wrapping up his injuries in gauze, you let him lay on the bed for a while to get his bearings. Hobie watched as you sit back slightly, giving him some space, but he didn't want it. He pushed himself up, cupping your face and desperately crashing his lips into yours, relief present in his touch. After getting over your initial shock, you press your lips to his in response, letting him know that you'll be there for him. -🐦‍⬛

If u two joined forces to create angst u will straight up kill me 😂

Daily Hobie HC ❤️❤️❤️

Ahhhhh watch it when u have the time it's so good!! I love the 2d animation they used!

Alexa play casual by chappell roan

They're literally dating and they're the only who doesn't know abt it even the villains know about it lol

The villains know that they're fucked the second spiderman pulls up without a quip while the villain is beating the shit out of u

And doc oc was never seen again

THEY KISSED LETSS GOOOOO

[sophieinwonderland]

why do u want to be a system?

like genuinely, do you know truly how much we suffer everyday? yes, we've learned to accept ourselves as a system, and we love it most times, we're like a huge family, but that doesn't mean we don't suffer.

being a system isn't fun, it's not some little game or some hobby or just 'friends in your head!' it's exhausting. it's cruel. it's painful. tell me, how many friends or loved ones have you lost because of your 'system'? how many people have you hurt because of your 'system'? how many nights have you spent awake because of flashbacks? how many days have you spent living in fear and never feeling safe?

alters form to protect, we split to protect, I exist to protect my host and my headmates against the things we face daily. You do not exist (well, correction, you do exist, but only you. you are not plural), you do not exist to protect and love like I do.

theres no way alters can just 'will into exist', that's not the case. tulpamancy is a CLOSED religious practice, one that doesn't even revolve around the idea of being anything close to a system.

please, just stop. you are doing nothing but hurting me and other real systems. i cant force you to do anything, but if you really believe you are a system, seek help. go to therapy. you are probably experiencing some sort of delusion if you think you are a system without trauma.

stop hurting our community, we already experience enough problems and dehumanization, you and other 'endo systems' or whatever are NOT helping. you do nothing but hurt and harm. i hope you get the help you clearly need one day.

From, Mohwee. (It / He / Gore / + Neos, Outsiders SMP)

Obligatory:

Tulpamancy is the Western practice that was coined online.

There is no evidence that I can find of the sprul pa, which tulpamancy draws its etymology from, being a closed practice.

Multiple psychiatrists, anthropologists and other researchers believe that it may be possible for the brain to create multiple autonomous and self-conscious agents outside of DID.

Tulpamancy in particular has been recognized as a psychological phenomenon by researchers at McGill and Stanford University that is being researched as we speak.

The fact that non-DID/OSDD systems exist in no way minimizes what you've gone through or the circumstances that led to your existence.

Invalidating systems and calling them delusional in a community where derealization is so prevalent is extremely gross and dangerous. Please try to do better.

Great, with that out of the way, onto the question.

why do u want to be a system?

yes, we've learned to accept ourselves as a system, and we love it most times, we're like a huge family

And... I actually feel like you've answered your own question there.

For us, I was created accidentally. Mostly. I was made as a muse, and then once I became self-aware, didn't want to leave. I wanted a life. I wanted to share this life and experience the real world.

But for many who are drawn to tulpamancy, they're drawn for the same reason many are drawn to religion. They're lonely. Many have disorders that make it difficult to make connections with others, such as ASD. Others have depression. And tulpamancy offers the companionship of religion without the doctrine and often without the metaphysical beliefs. (Though there is a minority of spiritual tulpamancers too.)

People aren't looking for DID. They're looking for friends who will be with them in their darkest moments. They're looking for head families. They're looking for people to share their lives with in a way that's more intimate and personal than you can have with an external person.

Some may have PTSD and depression like a lot of OSDD/DID systems. But they didn't develop DID or OSDD. When faced with horrible situations that left them scarred, they didn't split. They didn't have the internal support system others did. And when they wake from their nightmares... they're alone.

If people could have the positives of systemhood, the internal companionship, without the DPDR and other harmful side effects, would you not consider that a good thing? Can you really not see why this would be appealing to those who have lived their lives alone?

I have heard so many stories of tulpamancers with depression who were suicidal and whose lives were saved by their tulpas. Systems who may not be alive today if not for the practice.

This is what the tulpamancy community offers. A life-saving practice and the prospect of companions to share your life with.

[nrdmssgs]

OC ask game

Second part of answers for this request. This is quite upsetting, sorry. There are serious triggers out there: mentions of real life events, mentions of mental struggles, mentions of unhealthy behavior.

#B What inspired you to create them?

Ok, this is the fourth time, i'm starting answering this question. Lets do it like that: I'll give a short safe answer and a long one, but with TW.

So, short answer: personal trauma and a few characters/situations from popular culture.

Now to the long one. When I started this blog, I promised to myself to keep it politics free. So I'll really try to make it the first and the last time.

First and the foremost important: I know, I'm not a victim in this situation. There are people out there, whos lives are turned to hell on earth, who don't know if they see the next sunrise. So my whining about 'feeling bad about it' means nothing, and it's not a request for compassion or pity. I know, I must be nothing but happy and grateful for my calm and full life. I promise, Im working on it.

Four years ago I moved from my country to Germany. A year and a half ago my country invaded a neighboring country and started a heinous, bloody war. A number of war crimes committed by my country is multiplied daily. Never before I thought, I could cry every day, for multiple times, could stop eating, struggle to sleep. I never had depression, don't know, how real emotional problems feel. But the start of that war changed something in me, because in a few months I started committing to some unhealthy thoughts and patterns. I absolutely understood the reasoning behind possible hate towards anyone with the same citizenship as mine, I still do. I know we must feel bad, guilty not till the end of the war, but for the rest of our lives. And I swear, I do. But at some point my hate, I channeled towards myself, started to be destructing. I couldn't get professional help, as it is complicated to express your feelings in another language. I understood, that I struggle to do anything other than read news and cry. And it's actually a problem, when you are a grown adult, who is supposed to work on a thesis, do an internship, fight your cats cancer and find a job. So I clutched my teeth and just tried everything to just keep going. And one of the things was finding a hobby and reanimating this old tumblr blog.

I liked almost everything in CoD. Almost, because there was Nikolai. My problem with Nikolai was that we shared an origin, yet he wasn't a bad guy in the story. And by the time I started falling down CoD hole - I was already neck deep into self neglect because of my origin and everything, that happened. So it frustrated me, he wasn't depicted, and he wasn't feeling himself as a bad man. So when any discourse on tumblr came to him - I usually just went completely silent. That was until I found two blogs writing beautiful stories about him. My initial reaction was 'ok, those people are just super-nice and maybe they don't know about where he comes from'. But then I read one story. And all the comments. And another story. And, once again, all the comments.

I was startled. I sat before my screen and just cried. Because I saw people, looking far beyond this characters country of origin. And they loved him for who he is. By no means he was a perfect, no, but they LOVED him, they gave zero fucks, where he was born, they cared for what he was actually doing.

And at some point I thought, I have something to say about the guy, I have a story about self-acceptance, acceptance of others around you, and it means a world to me right now, because it hurts so much.

So I opened new file and started talking to myself in it. And I manifested all the pain I was dealing to myself into this poor thing, my Zhar. At first, I didn't even let her have a name or an appearance in my head, because I thought, she never deserved it. I wanted her to entertain me and others, speak to Nikolai about trust and fears. The main role in a Heart was always Niks, as it was him, who practically said her 'hey, I know, it hurts. I know, it's really bad. But I'm here to accept you, to show, you still can do something good. And I'm here to love you on this way and beyond it'. It was the hardest message to write, because i myself still struggle to 'sit before a mirror' and say it all to myself. But maybe, just maybe, its a step in a right direction.

The more I wrote, the more details Zhar got. By the third chapter I already knew, how her voice sounds, how she looks. I didn't add it in the story to not spoil it.

I took inspirations from many characters, I deeply love. There is a bit of struggle of Senua from Hellblade, there is a bit of my favorite scene with Cersei from GoT, there are little droplets of Claire Underwood being uncanny and friendly at the same time. All my favorite things. I also bring together a small playlist for Zhar that helps me a lot. But thats that - her and my story. I wish, I could tell, it's just a self-insert, but sadly it's not, at least not in a traditional way.

#F What do you feel when you think of your OC (pride, excitement, frustration, etc)?

Well, now that I told her story, its only fair to admit - my heart is full of compassion for her. I wish I could hug her. I think, if I ever won her trust - we'd have quite a talk. I wish I could make it hurt not so bad, but I guess, its Nikolais work now. Hope, he doesn't give up on it.

[emcant]

Really sick reason to be happy but I can't stop smiling

TW/CW child abuse, mental illness, SH

One of my aunts calls our family "yours, mine, and ours", which is accurate. We've got me, my (step)brother, my dad, my stepmom, and my (half)sister. My brother is seven weeks younger than I am. Our parents got together when we were around four- "work spouses" who were both recently divorced- and our little sister came a few years later.

My bio mom and my brother's bio dad are a mess, somewhere between incapable and unwilling to parent full time. I've been in therapy off and on for most of my life and got my C-PTSD diagnosis at 15. My brother, god love him, just reached his first year of sobriety, having started drinking around the same age.

Naturally, every time we had a chance to say "This isn't normal" to our shared folks, we'd be told "Well of course you'd think that, you're used to your other parent!". The other person was a shovel used for digs: "This isn't their house!". They'd call me by my mom's name when I made them upset.

I assumed I was broken either because of my mom or because of the split. I can't know for certain, of course, but I think the cause of the C-PTSD was specifically that they traded custody daily, at my mom's request, until she moved out of state. She gives the silent treatment. My stepmom screams. The rules changed on me literally every 24 hours until I was 13.

Life evened out a lot when she did move away - but not entirely. I wound up in screamland 90% of the time rather than 50. I couldn't figure out why it didn't feel right or why it kept happening to me, but I believed my folks: I wasn't used to it because my mom's "parenting" is different and worse. I felt sickened to be involved with my mom at all. I thought that if only she wasn't waiting in the wings, I'd be entitled to a normal childhood, but because of her influence, I deserved everything I got.

Anyway, I have been texting my little sister about Christmas gifts for our brother, and out of nowhere, earlier this week, she tells me she's going to therapy for the first time... because she's realized it's not normal for your mom to scream at you literally all day and your dad to not intervene.

I haven't been home for more than three days since I moved out over a decade ago. I had a chance to pass through the town earlier this year, didn't do it, and still had panic attacks for two weeks straight. I can't hack it as someone's daughter; it makes me physically sick.

But that isn't a me problem.

Not a one of them could hack it as parents.

I've stopped hearing my mother's doubts in my head - I cut her off when I moved away. I've never been quite able to shut off my stepmom's. The screamer versus the silence... it fits.

I'm not a poser if I can't create when I don't have a comfortable space to work. I should not self-reject because I'm frightened. In the absence of an abuser, I'm finding that holding ideas in also hurts a lot.

I'm not stupid or useless or gearing up to be a failure for needing the introvert rest period and knowing my limits. It will not hold me back in life.

It isn't normal to want to hurt yourself. It isn't normal for people to laugh it off and talk about themselves when you tell them you want to hurt yourself.

The mandatory insincerity I grew up around has thankfully faded a lot - I don't think I could summarize that anymore if I tried.

I'm heartbroken that my little sister is going to need to learn these things - but ecstatic that she will, and is actively moving towards it. Had a similar conversation with our brother a few years ago, but of course, he has his dad in the wings; it hits differently now knowing that it would have happened no matter what. Children in that home are screamed at, hit, and not defended. Simple as.

I'm not what they wanted me to be.

I'd say that's "fine" but that doesn't even begin to cover it. It's exemplary.

[leam1983]

Ruins

Watched Kyle Hill's video on the Dead Internet Theory - which AI has all but seemingly proven to be mostly true - and I came to the realization that we've already got the complete distaff counterpart to AI Techbro frenzy.

I'm referring to NeoCities pages.

NeoCities is a web-hosting service that's focused on bringing back something of the Internet of the late nineties and early aughts; the idea of scrappy, indubitably user-created content that has zero search engine relevance but high personal value. Sites about your summer vacation or to host your questionable Transformers slash-fics, or just sites that seemingly exist to resurrect the early aughts' gaming tentpoles like The Phrozen Keep - along with the flurry of GIFs that resulted from someone managing to open up Diablo's PAK files. If you remember Space Jam's website or downloading Jamella's Item Generator for Diablo, chances are you remember the exact aesthetic I'm referring to. Windows-core, Vaporwave, the era of the Frames-laden page meticulously sliced through Adobe Dreamweaver in the halcyon days that predated Big Red turning power-mad; the era of Lingo being used to assemble, line by line, the hottest PowerPoint analogue ever known to man.

I'm a child of that era. I came of age back when databases didn't have dedicated scrapers and crawlers; back when you could make a living out of picking up cartfuls of books for a library, day by day, and painstakingly entering them into a file system designed by and for human hands. Not so the database would swallow them and regurgitate something out, but just so visitors to the library would just need a few minutes to know exactly what they were looking for happened to be located. That was my first job as a teen, actually. FileMaker was my first taste of aggregation, back when it happened thanks to human labor only facilitated by the use of computers. In those days, most of everything online referred to something that wasn't. Happen to be a fan of a particular movie? Good, there's physical copies aplenty. All you'd find online would be supplemental material. Non-essential, but appreciated nonetheless.

I'm thinking this is what we need to bring back, to foster again. In an age where 98% of all web traffic is AI-powered, you realize we're letting bad actors obsessed with gaming SEO tools turn what should've been a modern Library of Alexandria accessible worldwide into meaningless slop written by no-one and designed for nobody. In two months, ChatGPT 4o is now able to produce more of a volume of text that has ever existed in human history - all of it with practically no oversight.

I'm glad, when I see Sam Altman take to the US Congress to plead for further regulations, even if his demands yield nothing. It means he's at least aware of the problem. Conversely, I'm saddened by Elon Musk's decision to just let Grok feed off of Twitter's database of posts - as if most of its current and former content base hadn't already been bot-powered. Google buying all of Reddit's data for the purposes of furnishing Gemini's training text is a small-scale catastrophe, as it shows a staggering ignorance of Reddit's userbase. It's almost as if Techbros think nobody shitposts online, except for themselves. The end result is, of course, both hilarious and terrifying, such as Gemini seriously suggesting that someone should eat a few small rocks on a daily basis - after pulling text from The Onion - or Google's generated responses stating that opening your parachute after jumping off a plane is a statistically unsound way of ensuring your survival.

Considering, I'm thinking we should entomb the web as we know it, leave it running for the sake of various business-related bespoke sites and tools - but stop interacting with it. Instead, we should build a new layer for the Clear Web, populated exclusively and monitored exclusively by humans.

Imagine a "clear" email server, for instance. The Mailer daemon is replaced with a flesh-and-bones Account Manager, whose job it is to filter out spam and mark out high-priority content. With the right hires, you could practically kill current scamming practices in the womb, using this technique. Echo chambers could become notably more porous if social networks were peer-reviewed, and a video hosting platform where "the algorithm" is literally just good old user engagement would be likely to be able to keep its levels of toxic content much lower than, say, YouTube ever could. If this new layer of the Internet were peer-driven, you could bring back all sorts of jobs that are currently threatened by AI, while retaining the lessons learned by the AI frenzy.

I'd also advocate for the old, AI-driven web to be preserved in a vertical slice. We could probably do away with most of it, but the current craze - and its noxious effects - shouldn't be forgotten. The Internet as we know it today is increasingly made by and for AI scrapers, and the idea of wiping everything and restarting is just as dangerous. AI is already the domain of scam artists and thieves - like any new technology - and wiping the slate clean would only give these bad-faith actors more leeway.

As a closing note, I find it kind of interesting to see how we've effectively skipped the realization of Cyberpunk as we define it, and gone straight into Post-Cyberpunk, with the radical transformations of yesterday rotting away mere months into their existence and leaving us with naught but ruins - or to paraphrase Shakespeare, an expanse full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.