#i might write my “to draw” list sometime here too!!

[staticscreenwriting]

I took the good times, I'll take the bad times II Joel Miller

Summary: Joel doesn't think he's deserving of love after all he did and all he went trough. Or maybe he's just scared. Either way he can't let himself fall for (Y/N). Now if only she'd stop sending him those damn postcards.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader (I always try not to describe the reader physically, if I missed something please let me know so I can change it and make this "applicable" to every reader. Thank you!)

A/N: This is my entry for the dear-uary challenge by @jolapeno . My prompt was "Character A keeps finding X and traces them back to Character B, who might be leaving them intentionally—or not." And I chose Postcards as my form of epistolary.

TW: This is mostly angsty fluff. There is some talk of self doubt and loss of a child but I think that should be it.

Likes, reblogs, comments are all much appreciated. I am German. Sometimes I get the tense wrong or make mistakes. I am useless when it comes to punctuation. Go easy on me, please.

It all starts with a simple postcard tucked into the side pocket of his bag. Joel almost doesn’t realize it’s there, folded twice into a tiny square. It’s only when he’s looking for the list Maria gave him of all the things to look for on this run, that he grabs a hold of the card. 

His gloves make it hard to unfold the small paper but it’s way too cold to take them off. Joel was never big on winter and snow, even before everything went to shit. He doesn’t like the way it lingers, the way it consumes you from the inside out. Now, an unforgiving cold is all he feels as a thick blanket of snow has settled upon Wyoming. 

Bold bright letters scream out to him from the wrinkled paper “ Greetings from Tampa Florida. Wish you were here!”.

It’s one of those campy vintage ones where the letters are filled with drawings of landmarks and beaches. He remembers sending one just like this to his High School girlfriend when Dad took him and Tommy on a trip to Nashville when Joel was 16 maybe 17. It was a good trip, the last one they ever took together. Sometimes Joel wonders how his dad would deal with all of this. This new reality. This fucked up world. He always seemed so strong, so fearless. That man was unstoppable force and immovable object all at once. Every vulnerability Joel finds in himself, he’s sure was absent in his father. Maybe if he was a little more like his own dad he could’ve saved Sarah, could’ve spared Ellie the pain of living in this limbo of knowing and not knowing. Maybe, maybe, maybe.

Joel moves closer to the fire, his only light source other than the stars. There’s writing on the back, blue ink on off-white paper. It’s not a handwriting he knows and for a second he wonders if the card has been there ever since he found the bag years ago, back in Boston. But he would know that, right? Would've found it by now. This must be new. This must be meant for him.

“ I know you hate the cold. I know it makes you sad and gloomy, well gloomier than usual. So let me tell you about the hottest day I ever experienced. I was a kid, maybe 7 or 8 and my mom took me to Florida. Not Tampa (it was the only postcard I could find at the library), but Orlando. We went to fucking Disney World!! We didn’t have a lot of money back then so mom must’ve saved a long time for this. Anyway, Joel, it was so hot. Unbearably hot. My clothes stuck to my skin and my hair got all frizzy. Maybe July wasn’t the best time to go. The air was so thick and heavy, so moist (ew). It felt like breathing in honey, syrup maybe. I still had the best time. I know it doesn’t take away the cold but I hope I can take you away to that hot and humid Florida summer for one small moment. If not, there’s a wool scarf at the bottom of your bag. Made it myself. You never told me what your favorite color is. I hope you like blue. xx 

P.S.: I wonder what happened to Disney World.” 

A chuckle falls from Joel’s lips and forms a cloud against the sharp winter air. He's never been to Disney World. The Millers just weren’t a Disney World kind of family. They were more of a local fair kind of family. All corn dogs and funnel cakes and first kisses behind the bumper cars. Sarah would’ve loved Disney World though. Ellie too. Ellie who doesn’t even know what the hell Disney is. 14 years and the girl has no idea who Mickey Mouse is. What a surreal thought. What a strange world. More than 20 years and it still feels strange. Joel wonders if life will ever let him settle in this new reality. If one day this feels like home and not a bad dream. Not a cosmic punishment. A bad joke that no one’s laughing at anymore.

His eyes travel back towards the blue swirly writing. It’s not Ellie’s bad chicken scratch, he could pick that out of a line-up any day. This looks much neater, more deliberate, and thoughtful. 

“There’s a wool scarf at the bottom of your bag.”

Quiet, as not to wake up the others sleeping just a few steps away, Joel opens the zipper on his bag and rummages through it with a gloved hand. There’s a bunch of stuff in there, food rations, ammunition, a second pair of gloves. Going on supply runs is not something Joel enjoys but it is a way for him to give back. To Tommy and Maria and the entire community. Jackson and its people have taken him and Ellie in as one of their own without much hesitation. They provided them with food, with shelter, with trust. He has so little to give in return. Going on a supply run to look for medicine and other necessities, that’s the least he can do. 

Something soft and squishy meets his hand and he pulls out a dark blue woolen scarf. There are so many holes and even in the dim light of the campfire, Joel can tell those holes are not there on purpose. Maybe it was Ellie after all, but then she never showed any interest in knitting, and the idea of her doing just that is far too ridiculous. No matter how imperfect it is though, Joel has to admit the scarf does make him feel warmer as he wraps it around his neck. 

“Hey,” Adam, one of the other guys on the run, speaks up from beside Joel, “you can catch some sleep if you want. I can take over the watch.” 

It’s a strange thing, how sometimes you don’t notice just how tired you are or how hungry you are until someone points it out to you. Until they offer to take it from you. Then it hits you like a brick to the face. A wave pulling you under. 

Joel feels his eyelids grow heavy and nods at the younger man. "Thanks". 

This mystery, it can wait until tomorrow. Until then he will bury his face in the warm soft wool of the scarf and think of that Florida sun. And though it most definitely is just his imagination, Joel could almost swear the night feels a little less cold.

His boots leave deep imprints in the white icy blanket as he makes his way past the Tipsy Bison and the community hall further towards his house. His home. 

No place has really felt like home in years. Not since all of this started. Everything was temporary. 4 walls and a roof. He wonders if this place will ever start feeling like home? Will he ever get to a point where he doesn’t wait for the second shoe to drop? It all feels like he’s Charlie Brown and life is Lucy pulling the football away at the last second. And it always ends with him falling. He’s so tired of falling. So tired of getting back up.

Joel almost expects the house to be silent as he steps inside. Ellie is slowly making friends with the other teens living in the settlement and is spending more time at their houses than she is at home. He can’t blame her. If he was more like his father he’d find it in himself to start conversations with people, get to know them, forge connections, make friends. Of the Miller boys, Tommy is the one who inherited their dad’s social gene though, Joel only got the snarl and the crippling inability to talk about his feelings.

Laughter echoes through the house as Joel rounds the corner connecting the entryway to the living room. Ellie’s laughter, loud and bright and light. As if for a moment all the horrors and the pain and the trauma have been taken from her.

When he steps into the kitchen, Joel understands. 

(Y/N) is standing by the counter, a smile on her face so soft and radiant it might just rival the sun. That joy she brings out in Ellie, it’s familiar to Joel because he feels it too whenever (Y/N) is around. Not always but sometimes. It’s a spark of warmth that starts in his chest and crawls up his spine. It settles in his lungs, his heart, his brain. Like a parasite. Like a virus. Like a wonderful dream. He doesn’t allow himself to feel it all the time but sometimes, sometimes he can’t deny himself this little bit of warmth.

Joel can’t even remember when exactly (Y/N) became a part of their life. It’s like one day she was there and refused to leave. And really that’s kind of how it went. She works at the library and the school, lives across the street from him and Ellie and for some reason, she’s taken pity on them. Joel isn’t sure if it's him or Ellie she pities. Maybe a mix of both. Either way, she brought over some soup one day and that’s the beginning and end of it all. She’s wormed her way into Ellie’s heart and by extension his too. Whether he likes to admit it or not. Doesn't hurt that she's so damn beautiful too.

“Joel, you’re back!” 

Ellie pulls him in a tight hug. It’s something Joel still has to get used to. Ellie isn’t a particularly affectionate person. She’s definitely not a hugger. And neither is Joel — not anymore at least. So when they do hug, it’s still a little strange. Not bad strange just unfamiliar. 

“Yeah, I’m back. 

“How did it go?” (Y/N) asks and meets his eyes over Ellie’s head. A silent conversation happening between her and Joel. It’s that thing she does where she doesn’t need to say a single word but Joel can tell exactly what she’s thinking just by the look in her eyes. He sometimes wonders if this is a them thing. 

“Did someone die” her eyes are saying. “Did someone get hurt?” 

“Did you get hurt?” 

He quickly shakes his head answering her unspoken questions. Not this time. 

“Good. It went good.” 

Maybe the relieved sigh he sees her let out is just his imagination. But Joel doesn’t think so. Joel thinks it's very real.

“Did you bring us something? “ 

He can’t help but smile at that. It feels good to smile. In a world that gives you grief and sorrow, you start to count the moments when it gives you a reason to smile. They are few and far between but the number has surely increased since Ellie stepped into his life — and since (Y/N) did. 

“I brought food and medicine. Isn’t that enough? “

A determined “no” falls from both their lips in a chaotic harmony. 

“Geez, you guys are demanding.” 

“Well — did you bring us something?” 

Joel just rolls his eyes and rummages through his bag for the goods. 

“For you— “ he says and throws the old wrinkled comic book towards Ellie who regards it with that endless sense of wonder she does possess. It’s the kind of spark that flickers and dies once you grow old. Or maybe just his did. Maybe grief leaves no room for wonder. 

Placing his bag on the ground, Joel moves into the kitchen and holds out his loot to (Y/N). Green background. White goats. Yellow bubble letters.

“Oooooh, you did get me something. Pet Sounds, nice!” 

There’s a spark in her too. Dulled and dusted from time but it is there and it flickers and grows every time Joel brings her a vinyl record from his trips outside of the settlement. In a world with so little joy, music seems to be one of the few things that hasn’t changed. In the face of immeasurable pain, humans turn to music. They have done so for a long time and judging by the world as is, they always will. 

“I hope it works still. Didn’t really have a record player to try it out.” 

“I’ll try it out as soon as I get to the library. Feel free to come by and listen with me.” 

“Sure.” 

“Thank you, Joel. I hope you didn’t have to do anything stupid to get this.” 

He didn’t. Not this time. He would’ve though. It scares him how willing he is to put himself in danger just to get her something that will put that radiant smile on her face. He’d walk to the end of the earth if he knew there was a record there she wanted. That thought scares the shit out of him. It’s bad enough he cares so deeply about Ellie, about Tommy. The more people you care about, the more you open yourself up to hurt. Losing either of them would tear him apart. Joel is not sure he can handle opening his heart to yet another person no matter how much his heart wants just that. 

“ Nah. No issues.” 

“Good.” 

She just looks at him for a moment. All soft eyes and gentle smile. There must be something she sees in him, Joel thinks, something he doesn’t see. A version of himself that he isn’t, that he will never be. A version he once was, maybe. A version he so desperately wishes he could be. For her.

“Well,” (Y/N) says and snaps him out of her enchantment “Ellie and I made some stew. I know you must’ve been freezing outside, some good warm stew might help warm you up a little.” 

“It smells great.” 

“You have impeccable timing because we just got done. So, dig in. And uh — I guess I’ll see you guys at the movie screening?” 

He doesn’t want her to leave. The devil and the angel on his shoulders are both screaming at him to ask her to stay. And if he was any stronger a man, any more like his own father and more deserving of good things, he would ask her. To stay for dinner. To stay forever.

But he isn’t. And he doesn’t ask. Just watches as she wraps a scarf around her neck and slips into the thick jacket that's a few sizes too big on her.

“I left the recipe by the fridge. Just in case you ever want to cook it yourself.” 

“Thanks.” 

And he really is grateful. For her. For everything.

“Oh Joel,” she says and stops in the doorway. “I like that scarf. Blue looks really good on you.” 

And then she’s gone, swallowed by the cold winter air. 

Joel hasn’t thought about his favorite color in forever. It’s something you stop thinking about once you start growing hair on your chest and fantasizing about girls in a way you haven’t before. Kids talk about their favorite colors all the time. Sarah did. It’s just once you grow old you lose that sense of self, define yourself through different things. 

Looking at the scarf now, all holes and imperfections, there is no doubt in his mind that his favorite color is blue. 

“Have you ever been to Paris?” 

The lights are dimmed in the big community hall, the movie playing on screen providing the only source of light as the people of Jackson have gathered for another movie night. 

A glimpse into a world that was but no longer is and never will be again. And for some of them, like Ellie, a world that never was to begin with.

Ellie is sitting in the front with some of the other teens, her friends, Joel supposes. She has friends now.

“Joel, have you?” 

A soft hand rests on his arm, shaking him from his gloomy thoughts. (Y/N) sits next to him, eyes focused on the pictures dancing across the screen. Ilsa and Rick, falling in love over and over again in Paris. The beginning of a love story doomed from the start. 

“I uh — no. Never.” 

“Me neither. I would’ve loved to go though. It looks beautiful.” 

He doesn’t know why or how it happens but the words just flow from his mouth like a waterfall. For the first time in a while, he finds himself wanting to talk more. About the past. About Sarah.

“My daughter, Sarah, went to Paris once. Some school exchange program. They don’t usually do it until later but her French class was above average and I guess they won some contest. I don’t know it was a long time ago.” 

“Sounds like she was a smart cookie.” 

"Oh, she was. Too smart for me, that’s for sure. Was hard letting her leave and fly to a whole different continent though. I was scared out of my mind until she was back home. Drove Tommy crazy for a whole damn week.” 

(Y/N) turns her face away from the screen and regards him with that infinite sense of something more. Soft and endearing. If he was a different man he would call it love. He would see the way she looks at him and he would kiss her stupid and life would be all sweet dreams and gentle touches. 

But he is the man he is. Not worthy of whatever she is willing to give.

“What’re looking at me like that for?” 

“It’s just sweet how much you care. About everyone. I think you don’t even know you’re doing it half the time.” 

“Do what?” 

“Care for others. For Ellie and me and all of us. You’re a good man, Joel Miller. I just wish you’d let someone take care of you for a change.” 

He doesn’t need to be taken care of. He can do it all on his own. And anyway, he is not as good of a man as she thinks he is. Good men don’t have the blood of their loved ones stuck to their hands. Good men don’t let their daughters die in their arms. Good men don’t kill. Good men don’t do all the things he did. 

Joel doesn’t want to be a good man. He just wishes he was good enough a man to allow himself to be with (Y/N).

“I ain’t a good man. And I don’t need someone to take care of me.” 

“You wore that scarf, did you not? You allowed me to take care of you then.” 

That damn scarf. He had a hunch it was her. The handwriting on the postcard matched the one of the recipe stuck to his fridge an awful lot. But it’s something else entirely to hear her say it outright. 

“That was you, huh? Had an awful lot of holes that thing.” 

“Hey, I never said I was good at knitting. You wore it anyway.”

Joel turns back towards the screen as Rick and Ilsa share a loving kiss. 

“Yeah, I wore it anyway.” 

And to the sound of bombs and tanks, (Y/N) rests her head on his shoulder.

That’s what you do for the people you love. Even if you don’t allow yourself to love them.

You wear the scarf anyway.

The mailbox flag is up. Bright red against the sharp white of the winter's day. 

It’s never been up. People around here don’t get mail. It’s but an ancient relic of a life they used to live. Remnants of a society long gone. 

But Joel is nothing if not curious. So he stomps up to the mailbox, leaving deep imprints in the freshly fallen snow. 

It’s another postcard. Only this time it doesn’t come with a mystery. This time it comes with that silly little feeling that makes his heart beat just a little faster. That makes his head swirl with stupid thoughts of stupid dreams.

“From Paris with love,” it says on the front. Fucking Paris, of course.

Sometimes the way he feels about her is infuriating, confusing, scary.

And sometimes, like right now, it feels like a ball of warmth settles in his ribcage and warms him from the inside out.

“Dear Joel,

We’ll never have Paris. Not in this life at least. And while I would’ve loved to see the Eiffel Tower sparkle with you and make you eat a croissant (which you would’ve pretended to hate but I think you would’ve enjoyed it secretly), I am glad to get this life with you at least. Or alongside you. Whatever it is we are, I am glad this life gave me that in between all the pain. Despite what you like to tell yourself, Joel Miller, you are a spark of fire, a light in the dark. You are more than the sum of your failures, you are more than your pain. All the good that is in you, that counts. That’s all that matters in the end. And there is so much good in you.

I wish you’d let yourself see it. 

We will never have Paris. But we’ll always have Jackson and that is enough for me. I hope it’s enough for you.

Here’s looking at you kid! ;) “

There’s a tragedy in knowing someone else sees all your good parts and none of the bad. A tragedy in knowing how much they like those good parts and being awfully aware that seeing all the bad parts would destroy them. 

A tragedy in still wanting to show them all of you, even the ugly soul-destroying parts.

But if she thinks he’s a good man, then Joel needs to be just that. A good man who keeps those ugly parts hidden and away from her. Even if that means denying himself the one thing he wants. 

“What’s that?” Ellie speaks up from beside him, a curious look on her face.

“Postcard.” 

“Like what people would send from vacations and stuff?”

“Yeah, how do you know about that?” 

She rolls his eyes at him and it’s one of those moments where he feels like a dad again. Those little moments that mean the world to him because he gets to feel like the old him. The Joel he thought was long dead and buried beside the bones of his own child.

“I watch movies? I talk to people? I read books? Take your pick.” 

“Wow, when did you become such a smartass, huh?” 

She shrugs his shoulders at him “Was born that way. Nothing I can do about it.” 

“Unfortunately.” 

“Hey, you’ve grown to love me! You wouldn’t want me any other way.” 

And she isn’t wrong. Ellie, with all her curiosity and her bravery and her lust for life, whatever that life may look like, is exactly what he needed. Which makes him wonder if saving her from the fireflies was ultimately more of a selfish act than that of a heroic savior. 

“Who’s it from?” 

“None of your business.” 

“Oh, so (Y/N).” 

His eyes flick up and he is met with that satisfied, mischievous grin that is so uniquely Ellie.

“What makes you think that?” 

“You always change the subject when I bring her up. And that way you just jumped when I mentioned her? Yeah, you’re not slick, old man.” 

“Hey! Who are you calling an old man?” 

“You! Old and scared!” 

“I’m not scared!” 

Like hell he is. Terrified even. But there ain’t no way in hell he’ll admit that to Ellie. She’ll never let him hear the end of it. 

“Then go talk to her! She likes you, you like her. Why do you have to make it so complicated?” 

If only she knew all the ghosts swirling around inside of him threatening to break free. Things could be so easy. Only nothing ever is.

“Mind your own business, kid! Anyway, don't you have someplace to be? Think Dina came by earlier asking for you. You two are getting along well, huh?” 

“Aaaand on that note. See you for dinner, old man!” 

She’s gone before he can even hurl a reply at her. It pulls his lips into a smile. There’s no better way to get a teen to shut up than to bring up their crush. Nice to see that some things never change.

Another run. Another record. 

Joel feels silly, standing here in front of her door with his heart beating fast and heavy as he clutches the vinyl record in his hand. 

If Ellie saw him now, she’d surely make fun of him. Tommy too. Sarah even. 

What happened, Joel? You used to be so brave. What makes you so afraid now? 

Life, he thinks. Life has made him scared and bitter and sad. 

“Did you wanna knock or — ?” 

Joel turns around as the voice calls out to him. There it is again, that softness, that smile. 

“Uh, yes.” 

“Okay, good. Did you come to see me? Sorry, I was helping Maria at the farm.” 

“Yeah no uh — don’t worry about it. I just came to drop this off” 

Her eyes grow wide as she catches sight of which record it is he’s holding up. 

“No way! The stranger! You found it.” 

“ I did.” 

He had to clear an old dilapidated bar full of clickers to get that record. Almost lost his damn arm in the process. But her smile, that god-damn, life-ruining, world-shattering, heart-beat-faster, smile of hers makes it all worth it. He would give both arms, all of him. He would give it all to see her smile.

“Do you wanna come in and listen to it with me? Got my player fixed so I don’t have to use the one at the library anymore.” 

Say no. Just say no and go home. Be a good man! Be a better man! 

But he’s not. For this one moment, he can’t be that man. He’s just as weak as the rest of them. 

“Sure.” 

This feels so — normal. So before everything. Different and twisted and warped. But normal.

It’s scary and comforting all at once. Like a tipsy dream when you know you’ll wake up with a headache for sure.

(Y/N) is twirling around her living room, a beer in hand and a smile on her face. Joel leans against the door connecting her living room and her kitchen and all he can do is stare. At this woman who means so much to him. Too much for him to ever put into words. If he even knew how to. He’s never been a poet. 

“I said I love you, that's forever

And this I promise from the heart, mmm

I couldn't love you any better

I love you just the way you are, right”

“I love this song. Can you imagine someone loving you enough to write something like this about you?” 

Yes, he thinks. If only he WAS a poet. He would write a hundred songs. A thousand. And all of them would talk of her smile and her eyes and the way there is no single thing about her he would change. 

But words fail him. They always do. 

So he just nods.

“Joel,” she says and moves closer. The bottle of beer now placed on her couch table, her hands find his chest. So warm. So soft. And all he does is stare. 

“I know you got my postcards. I know you know how I feel. And sometimes I think you feel the same. I see the way you look at me. I know the dangers you put yourself in to get me those records. I just — you never say anything. So am I making a fool of myself here? Please tell me if I — “ 

“You’re not.” 

Wow, so eloquent. 

“I’m not?” 

Her voice sounds so small. So unsure. He hates that he’s the one who put the uncertainty there. Be a better man, Joel! Be a good man for once! 

But all he does is stare. Words fail him. Again. again. again.

“Then can I — can I do this?” 

(Y/N)’s gaze falls to his lips then back up to his eyes. She is so close. He can feel her warm breath on his skin. Can smell the scent of her shampoo. Notices the tremble of her fingers as her hands rest on his chest.

And he wants to kiss her. Every version of him that ever was and ever will be wants to kiss her. But all he does is stare.

All he does is stare and pull away.

And it breaks his heart to see hers break in that moment. 

“I uh — oh I’m sorry Joel.”

Tears gather in her eyes, fill them with sorrow, fill his heart with rage. He can’t do anything right, can he? Everyone he’s ever loved, he’s disappointed. But how can he let himself love her, how can he let her love him, when he is so broken? When all he does is break things?  Taint them with this infinite sadness that lives and grows inside his bones? 

“It’s not you.” 

“Oh please, Joel. I made a fool of myself already. Don’t make it worse.” 

“I ain’t trying to. It just ain’t you. It’s all me. It’s always been me”

His palms are sweaty and he feels like someone has reached into his ribcage, cracked every rib on the way to his heart, and ripped it out with bare hands. Snapping veins and arteries and all.

“I want you. I want this but I can’t have it. You think I’m a good man but the truth is, I am not. I do bad things all the time, over and over again and time and life have made me so numb to it. But you, you are so good. You deserve someone better. Someone whole.”

It’s like once he’s started it all comes flowing out like a fucking waterfall. All his fears and insecurities and pain. It’s all there for her to be disgusted by. Because god knows there is no way she won’t be. He is. All the time.

“I have not been the same since this all started. Since Sarah — since she died. I live with this immense grief. It surrounds me. It IS me. All of me. And I so desperately want to claw my way out of it. Rip it apart and leave it behind. But at the same time, I want to bury myself in it. Because what if I do leave it behind and I start to forget? Her and all that she was? How is it fair that I have to remember her far longer than I got to know her? So if I get better, if I become the man I need to be to be worthy of your love, am I still gonna be the man she knew? Can I still remember? Because that is all I have. And that is not a burden I can put on you. Not you and not Ellie.”

Joel takes a breath then another but it does little to calm him down.

“You two mean everything to me and I am sorry I am bad at showing it. That I can’t say it. I need you to know, it’s all me that’s the problem. It was never you. I’m sorry.” 

He doesn’t wait for her to say anything. He doesn’t think he has the heart to hear a reply anyway. It’s like he just ripped himself open and spilled all his guts, his heart, his lungs, and all his inside out on her living room floor. 

If he was any better of a man he’d pick them up and try to rearrange them.

But he is not a good man. Maybe he never was.

“There was something for you in the mailbox” Ellie exclaims and slumps down on the couch next to him. “I was this close to opening it but I didn’t want to make you even more grumpy than you already are.” 

“I’m not grumpy” 

He has to admit, the tone in which he said those words does not do much to counter her point. Ellie knows too, judging by the way she raises her eyebrow “Sure, you’re not.” 

She drops a sunflower yellow envelope on his lap. ‘Joel’, it says in that swirly handwriting he’s become so familiar with.

It’s been a few weeks since he’s seen (Y/N). Since he spilled all his sorrows and worries to her and then ran. And, surprisingly, Jackson makes it very easy for someone to avoid another person if you only try hard enough.

Maybe Ellie has a point, maybe he has been exceptionally grumpy lately. No correlation to any recent events though. Absolutely zero.

“Sooo are you gonna open it?”

Ellie looks at him with curiosity and that little spark of mischief as if she knows something he doesn’t. 

“Not with you watching over my shoulder, I ain’t.” 

“Why?” 

“Cause it’s none of your business.” 

“Excuse me? I have to live with your grumpy ass because you guys can’t get your shit straight. I think it very much is my business.” 

“Jesus, Ellie. Language!" 

“Sorry,” she says and gives him that pseudo-sheepish look he’s grown familiar with. “You guys need to get your stuff straight.” 

He used to scold her for it but really, he isn’t one to talk. 

“Anywayyyyy, I’ll go stay at Dina’s tonight … just in case you decide to go over and apologize for whatever it is you did and you guys finally sort it out and need some privacy later.” 

“Why do you think I did something?” 

And there it is again that sassy eyebrow raise. The same one he’s seen on Sarah so many times before. It truly is a woman’s world and he’s but a fool living in it. And they let no opportunity pass to remind him of just that.

They are also absolutely right.

“My lawyer advised me not to answer that question. Anyway, be nice. Have fun. Byyyye” 

Her voice trails off as she grabs her bag and rushes outside leaving Joel alone in this big empty house with nothing but his demons and this mysterious envelope.

Carefully he opens the seal and shakes out the contents. A postcard, a photo, and a — cassette tape? 

His eyes find the photo first. It’s a polaroid of him and Ellie and (Y/N). All 3 of them smiling, yes even him. He remembers that day back last summer. It was one of those warm but not yet hot days. (Y/N) was wearing that agonizingly beautiful red sundress. The one that made his heart beat twice as fast. She brought over a whole basket full of cherries from the tree in her garden. A pie too. And that damn Polaroid camera. 

Of course, Ellie was enamored by it, wasted almost the whole damn film. 

“Come on Joel, let's take a picture together,” she had called out to him and pulled him to sit down next to her and (Y/N) on the blanket they had placed on the lawn. 

“I’m not a picture guy,” he had grumbled, “ ain’t nobody want to see my old mug.” 

“Oh shut up. Joel, you are so handsome, don’t even pretend like you don’t know that.” 

It was the first time (Y/N) had ever called him handsome. It was hard for him to believe it then, hell it still is. But she has done it a lot more since then. Calls him handsome and gorgeous and pretty all the time. At first, he thought she was just humoring him but slowly but surely it dawned on him that she meant it. Means it still.

“We don’t know how many good sunny days we have left. Ain’t no shame in trying to remember this one, right?” 

Her eyes held so much honesty then. Vulnerability too. And gratefulness for all they had then after all they had lost. It made him smile then and it makes him smile now.

The Postcard is next, big bold letters spell out TEXAS and in the corner, there’s a drawing of the Texas State Capitol in Austin.

When he turns the Postcard over, there it is again, that swirly writing he’s grown to love so much. 

“Joel, the ‘Postcards from around the world’ book I got from the library didn’t have an Austin one but it did have a Texas one so that’ll have to do. I’m not even sure if you're going to read this. I hope you do because you didn't give me a chance to say my part when you stormed off & I think I deserve that.

You're not the man you were in Austin, you lived through the worst thing imaginable and it changed you. But you are not just your pain. It is part of you but it doesn't define you. I know you see all the bad but none of the good but believe me I see it! Ellie does! You are your pain but you are also the smile on Ellie's face when you bring her a new comic or teach her a song. You're the guitar chords echoing through the air on a warm spring afternoon. You are those fluttery feelings in my heart whenever you look at me.

Joel Miller, I understand if you don't want to be with me but if it's only because you don't think you're good enough then I think that's a choice I get to make. Taking that from me is a dick move. 

You said you're bad at showing love but you're not. You showed me through all those records. Through all those songs. Now let me love you back.”

Joel can’t quite name the feeling spreading through him. It’s both foreign and familiar at the same time. Like an old friend. A hazy memory. Pictures blurred and dulled by time and age. 

Maybe he was wrong, and he hates admitting that. Maybe he ain’t a good man but maybe that is hers to decide. Maybe. Maybe. Maybe.

He takes the cassette tape in his hand and squints his eyes at the tiny writing on the label. God, he really is getting old. Those eyes ain’t what they used to be.

God only knows - The Beach Boys - Pet Sounds

You’re my best friend - Queen - A Night at the Opera

Just Like Heaven - The Cure - Kiss Me, Kiss Me, Kiss Me (you should!) 

In Your Eyes - Peter Gabriel - So

Time After Time - Cyndi Lauper - She’s so unusual

Your Song - Elton John - Elton John

Can’t Help Falling in Love - Elvis - Blue Hawaii

Wonderful Tonight - Eric Clapton - Slowhand

The Book of Love - The Magnetic Fields - 69 Love Songs (!!!! LOVE SONGS!!!)

Just The Way You Are - Billy Joel - The Stranger

"You gave me all these records with all these songs and all these words to tell me you love me and I’m not sure you even knew.” 

And she’s right. He got her those records because he knew they’d make her smile. Because that smile means everything to him whether he wants to admit it or not. He got those records to show her that even when he’s gone on a run, she’s always on his mind. He believed it to be a curse, a ghost haunting him for all his past mistakes and taunting him with what he shall never have.

But maybe it’s not a curse. 

Maybe it’s a blessing. A sweet song to remind him that someone back home is waiting. A gentle reminder that life can and will go on and good things can come from immense tragedy. And moving on doesn’t mean forgetting, in fact, it means remembering. Remembering the bad and believing that there can and will be good and that it’s worth it to go on. Even if you are a different you. Not worse or better, just changed. And that you deserve love. And kindness. And warmth.

Joel drops the envelope and its contents on the table and grabs his thick winter jacket as he rushes outside. The cold feels only half as bad as it nips at his skin, he barely notices. There is a fire inside him now, burning away all the doubts and hesitation. 

He’s back at her door, only this time he doesn’t wait to knock. He’s spent so much time denying himself the one thing he wants that he can’t lose just one second more. The rapping of his knuckles against her door echoes through the winter day. Oh, how he can’t wait for the spring and the summer and her in that gorgeous dress. 

“Joel?” 

Back before — everything, Joel remembers a movie night with Sarah. She got to choose and despite being an avid fan of trashy action and horror movies, that time she chose a romantic comedy. All things considered, Joel can admit that when Harry met Sally wasn’t the worst choice but he still would’ve preferred Star Wars or Terminator. 

He does remember the ending though, the grand finale. He remembers Sarah trying to wipe away tears without him noticing. And he remembers Billy Crystal’s words “When you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible.” 

Back then he thought it was some silly, cheesy movie speak. No one feels that way, right? It’s grandiose and kitschy for the sake of movie magic.

But no, he’s sure now, that one is true. Because it’s how he feels.

“I love you!” 

That confession should come with ribbons and flowers and fireworks but it doesn’t. It comes with honesty and that is all that matters. It comes from the heart.

“Huh?” 

“I got your postcard. The photo too and the tape. And I love you.” 

“I know. Took you long enough to figure it out.” 

“I’m sorry. I — I still believe that I am not a good man and that you deserve better. But it would be selfish to punish you for my own insecurities. I love you and I want to let you love me. If you still want to, that is.” 

“Joel Miller?”

“Yeah?” 

“Please just fucking kiss me.” 

Joel remembers a lot of kisses in his lifetime. Some rushed, some clumsy. Quick kisses in secret. Long drawn-out smooches in smokey bars. Loving, fast, aggressive, and soft. 

This one is different, as cheesy as it sounds.

This kiss makes him feel like all he’s ever been and all he ever will be can live in peace with one another. This kiss makes him feel like none of it matters as long as he has her. 

She tastes like peppermint and sunshine and he’s sure he’ll never get enough of her. The feeling of her skin against his as he gently cradles her face in his hand. The soft movements on her chest as she breathes. The twitch of her lips as she smiles into the kiss.

For the first time in his life, Joel is sure that a kiss is more than a kiss. It’s a healing hand on a shattered heart. It’s a new path to a new future. It’s sunshine melting the ice from his bones.

It’s a promise to try every day and to be better and to be enough. ---

[carlzy-berryz]

Just another quick update: My wrist has been feeling a lot better, so tomorrow I've got an appointment to check on it, and if its fine I'm gonna start some new art on Friday!! (Hopefully, it's better, I MISS DRAWING 😭)

My top priority will be an AT with a friend on DA!! This doesn't mean art trades are open tho... I'm very on and off with 'em, mostly off, lol.

But anyways, its not guaranteed but I'm hoping i can draw soon!! ^^

[todayisafridaynight]

this writing shit hard as hell

[the-s1lly-corner]

CRP characters crushing on the reader 2/2

Placeholder opening here, check part 1 for the other characters! i dont usually write for zalgo because my take on him is... so... yeah... and hard to write for him, but the idea of this intangible godlike entity that can warp realities falling for someone is horrifying

Characters: Jane, Jeff, Ticci Toby, Nina, Bloody Painter, Zalgo

Notes: reader is GN but post mainly focuses on the canon characters, admin uses any pronouns for nina so if you see the pronouns swapping that's why!, heavy hcs for Zalgo and his part isnt really open for "it gets better and you guys get together" no his part is just... horrifying

CWs: zalgo is zalgo; ie non human entity does not follow human morals and is kind of... toxic and horrifying

JANE

I need you guys to bare with me because this blog has always been hc/au heavy with how I write characters but between all the main crps, Jane is probably the most likely to just.. be a normal person 90% of the time, so the chances of you and her meeting during a normal day is pretty high. She's closed off so you don't even notice that there's feelings developing on her end. If there is a difference it's just her being slightly more affectionate and open to you. She becomes even more protective of you, can you blame her? You've heard of the rumors about her family... She doesn't deny her feelings if you ask her, though, so it's a clean confession when the time comes instead of it just being spilled or forced out.

JEFF

He's so full of himself that he approaches you without thinking anything through because he's so confident that you're going to just fall for him. Makes a lot of jokes with you, some darker than others. Flirts with you up front because once more, he's so confident that you're into him that he doesn't take a moment to consider that you would reject him. Probably takes rejection the worst, at least out of the characters on this list. And that's on being on the run since your mid teen years, he didn't interact with many people because of that. "Oh you dig me" as you slap his arm because he said something dumb.

TICCI TOBY

Very similar to the other proxies, watches you from afar but he decides to interact with you sooner than the other two. He's wary, because he doesn't want to humiliate himself or screw anything up but he's so so so desperate to meet someone new who's in his age range so he's doing his best to appeal to you. Sometimes slips up because he's trying too hard. He can pester you and get on your nerves, but he doesn't mean anything wrong by it... usually.. You outright ask him if he has a crush on you and you can see him internally scrambling for something to say. It's actually a little sweet. Probably the most normal out of them all asides Jane, at least by Creepypasta standards.

NINA

Oh she is so upfront about her feelings for you! Makes you small trinkets and keepsakes with random stuff she finds. Very quick to approach you as well and make a friendship. Very chill if you don't end up returning their feelings, and more than happy to keep up a friendship with you if you want that. A yapper, too, so they have a habit of keeping you by keeping a conversation up and alive longer than others would. Custom kandi for you as well, with your favorite colors and some stuff they know you like! As an aside, Nina is a "cringe fandom enjoyer", so you guys can get into the same things and be cringe and free together! Not related to this post but have it as a bonus!

BLOODY PAINTER

He finds himself drawing you more than he draws his other subjects, and honestly its a little frustrating. You start finding some of his papers laying around. He approaches you so he can try to get even more accurate with his art, having the real thing as a reference is much better than relying off of memories of you wandering around town. Once the initial tenseness dies down, you might be able to get a few words out of him while he's drawing. "Muse of an artist" trope, a lot of the things he makes are dedicated to you in one way or another. His art is the only real tip that there's something going on, because otherwise he's good about swallowing and hiding his emotions.

ZALGO

Bonus character, Zalgo would literally alter the universe if he could to ensure that you're there and his. He can manipulate media, and create creatures.. I mean in my au he's literally the reason half the creepypastas exist... I WAS going to make a joke that he makes a stand in to act for him, but he's so into you that he can't stand the idea of someone else being with you... doesnt matter if he was living vicariously through it. Genuine psychological horror elements here with him warping the world around you in an attempt to get your attention and to get you to come to him. Technical cosmic / otherworldly horror (?) because he's something that transcends just about everything in universe. Simultaneously everywhere at anytime all the time, there is no real way to get away from him. Horrifying stuff.

[featguler]

why do you do this to yourself ? ────── arda is not your boyfriend, but he sure gets jealous like he is.

♡ ────── pairing : arda güler x reader ♡ ────── tags : reader's gender, ethnicity, nationality, and appearance is not specified. reader is a university student living in madrid. situtionship!arda güler lol. might have to mention that reader is a business major but it doesn't really matter. this one's a bit suggestive towards the end, folks. ♡ ────── wordcount : 757 ♡ ────── notes : i don't know why i keep on writing jealous fics... but debut arda fic! i love him sm ♡ this is lightly based on dial drunk by noah kahan and the bolter by taylor swift, just the vibes, not the actual drunk dialing. enjoy loves ♡ masterlist.

Arda’s friends think he’s stupid.

Hell.

He’ll give you one better: Arda thinks he’s stupid.

His friends think it’s stupid that he would move four-thousand kilos away just to fall in love with a person who doesn’t seem all that interested in getting into a relationship, with him or not.

But Arda? He thinks he’s stupid for staying anyway.

The distance between Ankara and Madrid intimidates his friends—scares them, even—but Arda has gone through it. Falling in love with someone is usually next on the list after settling into a new town; he’s used to this.

But staying?

No, no. Arda is quite the bolter. He leaves a room as quickly as he gets into it. He falls out of love as soon as he tastes a glimpse of their lips.

It’s not that he’s afraid of hurting. It’s just how he works—he moves here and there physically, and his heart cannot help but move along.

Which is why you are such an odd case.

Arda is not too sure that you are even in love with him. And he would ask you if you would want to be his, but he fears rejection more than he welcomes the possibility of change, so he is stuck in this strange, mindless limbo, swimming between self-deprecation and self-doubt. And he is not too sure either that you are stuck there with him.

“Mhm,” Arda closes his eyes, his strong grip around your waist as the sun dims just outside your apartment window. Madrid is beautiful all day, but to him, nothing beats the sunset Ankara would parade back in Türkiye.

Arda shifts, and instead of resting the side of his head on your chest, he turns his neck to place his chin on you. His eyes—sometimes brown, at times grey—flicker from one corner of your face to the other. He takes in the curves of your eyebrow, the way you breathe, and quietly scoffs.

“What?”

Without peeling your eyes from your phone, you raise an arm to run your fingers through the strands of his hair, now cut short to combat the summer heat.

“Who are you texting?”

“Some guy,” your reply irks him, “from my marketing class.”

Arda pushes air in his mouth to puff his cheeks, rolling his eyes.

“Sounds fun,” he grumbles.

“He is.”

Arda pushes himself off you, using one hand to support his body while the other softly grabs your chin, tugging you to look at him. He leans down, closes his eyes, and presses his lips against yours.

You drop your phone on the bed, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him closer.

He likes this. He likes the way you kiss him back, the way your nails dig into his skin. He likes this, and he likes you.

Arda opens his eyes after a moment, drawing away from your lips to watch you breathe as he rests his forehead on yours.

“You gotta stop texting this guy,” he finally breathes, looking in your eyes for some kind of reciprocation.

You laugh. “Why?”

Arda shrugs. “‘Cause I said so.”

“Well,” you push a strand of his hair away from his brows only for it to return to its place, “we’re not exactly together, are we? I don’t have to listen to you.”

Arda pouts at that—his bottom lip juts out; his nose scrunches.

“Don’t look at me like that?” You laugh again, softly pushing face away from you, despite his insistence in staying still.

You smile up at him before turning to blindly reach for your phone, buzzing with Snapchat notifications from some fucking guy in marketing class. Arda slants his eyes, leaning down to press his nose against your neck, silently kissing your skin.

“You should send him a picture of us.”

“Of us?” You repeat, fingers already busy typing away. “Like this?”

“Sure,” he mumbles against you, “or you can be on top, if you want.”

“Of course,” he hates the sarcasm dripping from your words. “Should I go ahead and tag Arda Güler on Instagram too while I’m at it?”

“Why not?” He continues nibbling on your skin. “Next time I start, I’ll send a free ticket over.”

“Stop that,” you pull away from his lips, and Arda lets out a whine. “You’ll leave a mark.”

He pouts, and ends up placing the side of his head on your shoulder as you continue toying around with your phone, the low sun enhancing the features of your face.

Fuck.

Name a bigger idiot watching the Madrid sunset right now.

[emilem-forevermore]

hey! intro post :D

are you having a panic or anxiety attack? here :)

here is a link to the trevor project (a helpline for queer youth) if you are struggling. remember you deserve love and recovery :)

need a boost? check out my tag #em says it’ll get better <3

and if you know me irl, don’t follow me here- go to @peanut-jelly @squirrelfrienddd or @femininemilem

okay, a bit about me:

personal

my name is ollie, or oli, oliver, or em.

my pronouns: he/xe/it/fae/they. no she/her or fem terms.

my age: i am a minor. don’t be gross.

my birthday: april 8th! i’m an aries :3

nicknames i've collected: emilem, gay little frat boy, catboy tea, cheeto boy, leaf boy, em and em

my height: 5'0! i am tiny :)

i'm happily dating @nyxerer120 (how! i’m the luckiest boy in the world holy shit)

poetry blog! @emilems-poetry

vent blog: @emilem-is-sad

just another one: @femininemilem

the other one where you can't mention my main bc my friends see it: @peanut-jelly

therian blog: @emilems-a-cat

also just another one: @squirrelfrienddd

i also run one of the color shark blogs, you can figure out which one ;)

i also have a pinterest, spotify account, and scratch account. this isn't something i'll be sharing with the world but if we're moots or smth and you want it lemme know :D here is one scratch acc tho

fun facts about me:

i earned a black belt in taekwondo (i no longer do it tho).

i cannot play any instruments but would like to learn guitar one day

i’m a norwegian forest cat therian but i’m fine with being called human/person too @emilems-a-cat

fandoms and interests

music: harry styles ⋆ 1D ⋆ hozier ⋆ noah kahan ⋆ chappell roan ⋆ sabrina carpenter ⋆ taylor swift ⋆ the amazing devil ⋆ a lot more

fandoms: gravity falls ⋆ warrior cats ⋆ heartstopper ⋆ brooklyn nine nine ⋆ only murders in the building ⋆ a good girls guide to murder ⋆ wild life smp + more

interests: poetry (check out @emilems-poetry) ⋆ drawing ⋆ digital art ⋆ writing ⋆ reading ⋆ french ⋆ veterinary sciences ⋆ the human body ⋆ psychology ⋆ hebrew, spanish ⋆ chinese ⋆ italian ⋆ music ⋆nature

check this out:

my favorite post on this website, a slight tw for self harm mentions, but aside from that it's extremely moving and well written and might help if you're feeling down :)

PLEASE:

ask me stuff! i love answering questions

message me if you think i’m cool!!

send me art and poetry!!! it’s so awesome to look at :3

interact w me! i love talking to yall and i don't bite that often

talk to me about heartstopper, poetry, wild life, and noah kahan :)

if i say/do something that upsets you, let me know! i try to do my best to be inclusive and kind but sometimes i mess up so help me out :)

i love my moots more than the world!!! here's a list of some of them:

@hotteststar my first moot and fellow bisexual :)

@rins-batcave my reason /p

@raeprise mon cœur /p

@sparky4577 my brother (not irl but i wish)

@mcshizzle-the-fire-boy the most sigma of them all /pos

@crowofthestars just really fuckn cool. go follow them!

@thecrazyalchemist my bestie with the coolest name(s) ever

@mrblazeflappybird my cool uncle!!!

@wishiwereheather13 my really cool moot im too nervous to talk to (your banner is so cool btw. just sayin.)

@boldofyoutoassumeicanspell my wise gal i should talk to more

@holiday-spice my favorite seasoning (get it. cause his name is spice. lol.)

@halflingwithaknife i get excited whenever you're in my notifications you're so cool :0

@aflairforthemelodramaticc my father :)

@blaxolt one of the funniest folks i know :3

@catinasink uh. uh youre so cool. wtf im scared of you youre really awesome :0

@theronanlynchshow LITERALLY AWESOME I LOVE SEEIN YA ON MY DASHH AHHH

@the-toaster-rat genuinely one of the nicest ppl ever he’s amazing go follow him >:3

if you'd like to be added to (or removed from) this list lemme know! i have so many mutuals and i love them all beyond words <3

oh also i tag my weekly polls with #ollie’s polls so those are there if you wanna see

[the-littlest-lily]

30 Days of G/t Self Care

I'm not fully sure where this idea came from, but here we go! I do enjoy a fun little daily challenge, and like most things my mind went to “but how can I make it G/t?” And here we are! Just in time for the new year, a 30 day self care challenge but… sizey. I wanted to make an actual calendar thing, just in time for the new year (though it can be started at any time, it's not specific to January). Check the days off, spread them out over a longer time, pick out just the ones that speak to you, whatever you want to do 😊 Here's the guide to go with it.

Day 1. Set aside a few minutes to take some deep breaths and focus on the present moment. To help ground yourself, perhaps wrap yourself in a blanket and imagine you are in a large, lovingly grasping hand, or hold a small item and imagine it's a tiny friend.

Day 2. Revisit some nostalgic G/t media. What first got you into this? Let yourself reminisce and remember why you love this in the first place.

Day 3. Make G/t art. It can be anything! Drawing, writing, crochet, pottery, you name it. No need to hold yourself to a certain standard or show anyone else, just take some time to be creative. Even if you don't deem yourself an artist, give it a shot and see if you enjoy it!

Day 4. Relax with a word search puzzle. I made a G/t themed one for you right here!

Day 5. Try out this journal prompt. If you could be tiny/big at will, what types of things would you do to relax? How might you extrapolate from this and apply it to your real life?

Day 6. Stretch your body today. What imaginary setting could you give yourself to make it G/t? Are you surrounded by gigantic furniture in your mind’s eye? Perhaps the yoga video on your phone helps you pretend you have a tiny instructor?

Day 7. Listen to some G/t music. This could be anything, from sizey music videos to songs with sizey lyrics to the Arietty soundtrack.

Day 8. Practice gratitude by listing out all the little things you're thankful for. (See what I did there?) Add some big things to the list for good measure.

Day 9. Practice stepping out of your comfort zone a little bit by talking about G/t, out loud if you’re able. Whether it's discussing with a friend (you brave soul), recording yourself on your phone (you can immediately delete it), or just mumbling to yourself in the shower. Maybe you’ll realize you want to make a G/t podcast and we all win!

Day 10. Here's a little creative prompt. Arrange everyday items to make a G/t scene (use toys, miniatures, or even fashion a tiny person out of paperclips or paper). Take a picture, share it if you like!

Day 11. Create a cozier space today to enjoy your G/t content. Grab some blankets, make yourself a snack or some tea, light some candles, whatever sounds nice to you. Sometimes it's making a mundane moment special!

Day 12. Make yourself something healthy to eat. While you prepare it, imagine how different the task might be to carry out if you were very big or very small. Maybe even have some fun making your snack in miniature too.

Day 13. Try out some affirmations today and see if you can make them both sizey and relevant to your life. Ideas of mantras could be “I am allowed to take up space,” “I choose to appreciate the little things today,” “I will achieve great things through small steps.”

Day 14. Go out into nature for some fresh air. Lean in close and pay attention to the small details, perhaps imagining a shrunken version of yourself or a small friend exploring.

Day 15. Challenge yourself to learn a new skill today to bring your Gt ideas to life. Maybe it's learning how to code, or making your own VR avatar, or learning a new art tool or technique. It's finally time to watch that tutorial you've been saving! 

Day 16. Pull out your dream journal, or start up a new one! Maybe we’ll figure out the whole lucid dreaming thing and come close to experiencing Gt, wouldn't that be the dream~ If this doesn't resonate with you, maybe start a journal to jot down your Gt daydreams instead!

Day 17. Relax with a crossword puzzle. I made a G/t themed one for you right here!

Day 18. Try to cross a few to dos off your to do list someday. Make it more fun by adding in some joke tasks in there, like “leave out a snack for the fairies” or “prep for borrowing trip tonight” or “meet with giant friend for coffee.” Maybe even schedule some real life Gt tasks - such as “work on chapter 2 of (Gt story you're writing)” or “plan a VRC hangout”.

Day 19. It's time to dress the part! Is there any way you can dress up or accessorize yourself in a sizey way? Maybe you have an oversized hoodie, or a necklace of a tiny Eiffel tower, or an old shirt with Tinkerbell on it. Did you know you can actually buy Arietty’s giant hair clip thing? Or if this better scratches your creative itch, maybe your objective is to make tiny accessories for a toy or figurine.

Day 20. Take some time to rest. Just allow yourself to lay down in a quiet, cozy setting for at least a few minutes and have some dedicated G/t daydreaming. 

Day 21. Try out a new exercise routine and use your G/t imaginings to make it more fun. Watching a new workout video? You’re a giant visiting the gym and that's your human instructor on the screen. Spontaneous dance session in your room? You're a fairy frolicking in a field of enormous wildflowers. Going for a swim? You're actually crossing a vast ocean, or maybe a small glass of water.

Day 22. Check out a new G/t story. Not a big reader normally? Just give it a shot!

Day 23. Give yourself a pamper night, whatever that means for you - face masks, cucumber water, a warm drink, candles, the works. Pamper night (face masks and stuff)

Day 24. Make or buy something for your G/t interests (miniatures or toys, “max”iature like a giant flower pillow, fairy-themed stationary, make a giant paper mache strawberry, etc)

Day 25. Relax with a coloring page. You can use any of your favorite artist’s lineart (just make sure to get permission and/or proper attribution if you want to post it). Here's an example option from me.

Day 26. Make a list of all the things you love about G/t. It's always nice to remember the various ways this interest might benefit our lives.

Day 27. Motivate yourself to try out a new hobby by making it G/t. Take that pottery class you've been meaning to take and make a giant acorn-shaped mug. Get into cosplay so you can dress up as a borrower. Dabble with watercolors and you may end up becoming a G/t artist. Study a new language and enjoy new sizey media you couldn't understand before. Whatever speaks to you! 

Day 28. Do a favor for your future self and make a self care kit for when you're having a hard time. This could include a journal or affirmation cards, or perhaps some grounding items like fidget toys, stress balls and mints. Add a little something G/t in there too. Perhaps some kind of miniature with an interesting texture, or a fidget toy in the shape of a person, or a stuffed animal of a giant ladybug to hug. 

Day 29. An act of kindness can do wonders for our mental health. Send someone in the G/t community a kind comment today, whether it's a long-time friend, someone you just met in a Discord group, or a comment to your favorite G/t artist. 

Day 30. Reflect on all the activities you’ve tried during this self care challenge and journal about it. What have you learned about yourself? What might you incorporate more into your self care routines going forward? Pat yourself on the back for investing some time and attention into yourself - you deserve it!

[poppitron360]

Big “I’m Back, Bitch” post after my Hiatus.

Hello All!

This is kinda just intended for close moots or anyone who was worried about me or is interested in Poppi’s Personal Life Lore, just to keep you guys up to speed on how I’m doing after some time away and what to expect from me in 2025.

SO MUCH has happened in the two months I was away from Tumblr so for starters, here is a brief list of updates I have about My life/Fandoms/General shenanigans in no particular order

- The Ithaca Saga came out and it was AMAZING. I completely ignored my stockings that Xmas morning and instead just listened to it. By the time Christmas day was over I’d already listened to it about six times.

- Yes I was at the watch party along with 206,000 other people. It was truly historical.

- The Helluva Boss sinsmas special came out and almost made me cry. It’s been a while since I was posting about that show, but dw I still watch it

- I’m now on book 3 of Magnus Chase and YES YOU WERE ALL ABSOLUTELY CORRECT I LOVE ALEX SO MUCHHHHH. Expect some Alex Fierro/Fierrochase/Jack x Riptide content from me soon

- The Star Wars Disney+ shows are better than they’ve been since Mandolorian Season One.

- HAPPY 2025!!! This can’t be a real year. 2017 was still last year. No way we’re halfway through the 20s already.

- I had a BIG LIFE UPDATE that for personal reasons I can’t share online but it was BIG and also GOOD and I’m really proud of it. It was also unexpected and not the reason I took time off for. Idk why I’m including this bc I can’t really say anything about it but I need y’all to know that something good happened. It seems like when I vent about personal stuff here I only talk about the bad but good stuff does happen sometimes too.

- I got a weighted blanket for xmas. It’s so cozy and I love it.

- I have started getting into making OCs. Some for fandoms, some not.

- Penelope is now my favourite character in Epic.

- I’ve been writing this fanfic about the children of Percabeth, Solangelo, and Valgrace going on a TLT-style quest together so stay tuned to either read that or watch me give up on it and then just infodump about the plot I would’ve written if I’d had the energy

- I’m finally caught up on The Amazing Digital Circus

- I’m finally caught up on Agatha All Along (I still have the last episode to watch)- I think Joe Locke is stuck playing Sad Gay Baby-bois for the rest of his carrer now.

- Joel Smallishbeans won Wild Life and Grian is making 7hr Hermitcraft videos now.

- I performed in a play

- I have a 133-day streak on Duolingo!!

- Technically my one year Hyperfixation anniversary of Percy Jackson! I count it as the first Wednesday after Christmas as that’s when I watched the TLT musical for the first time. Because of this, whenever I doodle an SPQR tattoo on my arm when I’m bored, I will now draw two lines under it instead of one.

- Less than one month into 2025 and I can already predict that “The Challenge” is gonna be my top song of the year on Spotify

- Overall, I’ve just been trying my best to relax and take it easy, and I think I succeeded, which is good because that’s what I needed.

Now for the slightly less lighthearted stuff. I need to set a few things straight, for myself more than anything.

Firstly, I want to clarify that mentally I'm fine. I realise my leave was sudden and might’ve worried some people, and I apologise, but I am safe. You don't have to worry about my health or wellbeing.

This too will pass, and you'll get more dedicated, hyperobsessed Poppi back again once this has all blown over. Although, the aforementioned “BIG GOOD LIFE UPDATE” might complicate things.

Holidays are a stressful time for me, as I’m sure they are for you. With that on top of work and life stuff I needed to shed some mental load and unfortunately Tumblr was the first thing to go. And it will be the first thing to go again when something else stressful shows up. Adulting is hard you guys.

I've made it no secret that I've had some stressful stuff going on in my life these past few months. Yes, I am back from hiatus. Yes, I'm taking the time to rest and take care of myself. But I do not have the physical capacity to fully administrate a Tumblr blog on top of everything else right now.

So from now on, things are gonna be a little bit different around here. I won't be making posts every day and I won't be writing large fanfics or working on any complex fanarts.

I will need to take more hiatuses as things pile up.

I don’t know when exactly, but consider it a fact (unless I say otherwise) that this will happen again.

I know a lot of you will be understanding but I want to set these rules for myself so I don't feel any pressure from my brain to provide for you all. As I'm sure most of you will relate, I have a kinda all-or-nothing attitude to my interests, and as of this point in my life I can't afford to give my all to my blog. So expect a lot less from me these next few months.

Also, still nothing on the Autism Assessment Application stuff, in case anyone was wondering about that. This is the reality of living under the NHS. But by talking to people I’ve still been able to get the help and support that I need regardless of a diagnosis. And I also have a bunch of fidget toys now!!

Anyhoo, sorry for the ramble. I neither assume nor expect everyone will bother reading this so thank you for taking the time if you did. I wanted to put all of this in one post so I don’t need to keep talking about this and boring y’all with personal details in case you’re not interested. On with the fun fandom fiascos!!

I thank you all for your patience and being so kind and considerate while I needed some rest. I could not hope for a more awesome corner of the internet to exist on. Love you all. Stay safe. I’ll see you soon!

— Poppi <3

@lavenderfairiez @ginnyluna @groverapologist @echo-stimmingrose @demigod-shenanigans @keefessketchbook @sleepyycapybara @123letsgobestie @fairytalesociology @four-leafed-queer-gal @child-of-helios @puzzled-pegasus @ollieisanerd @twomanyfandomshelp @lokiwiiiiiii @yoshuko-ew @frayna-of-the-hollow @via-rant @hadeslegacyhephgirl @pjowasmy1stfandom @thetourturedwritersclub @m-for-now @inky-void @deciduowl

[tolkienrsb]

TRSB 2023 Gallery Opening

& 2024 Schedule Premiere

It’s almost time for TRSB 2024! Sign ups for artists for TRSB 2024 open in a month. The full schedule for 2024 can be found here.

To start getting excited for this year’s event, please enjoy the opening of the TRSB 2023 Gallery (and the completion of the TRSB 2022 Gallery!) Many thanks to @usuallysublimepenguin for doing the lion’s share of the work to get both galleries ready and online and to @fishing4stars for supporting that effort!

Before the suggestions form opens on March 24th, we want to invite veteran participants to share their wisdom about the event. If you were speaking to someone curious about participating in TRSB for the first time, what would your advice be on picking what to draw? Or, as an author, what do you look for in a prompt? 

The mods have given their own answers under the cut. We can’t wait to hear your thoughts!

~TRSB Mods 2024

Mods answer the question:

Fishing4Stars (roles: artist, writer): As a writer I look for prompts that either give me a clear inspiration that I think matches the artist’s idea - or that leave me enough flexibility to write something I find inspiring. Either works! I do get inspired by my favorite characters, but the underlying idea can be a great source as well. I had a blast writing a story focused on Thorin last year even though he’s not a character I normally write for because the underlying prompt, about being an outcast and having a complex identity, inspired me. I loved working closely with the artist on this - I will probably make my ‘involvement level’ preference this year more specific, because I’d love to do that again.

I think my biggest takeaways as an artist after participating last year were: 

(1) Be a little selfish when picking prompts: As an artist, I’m responsible for supporting my writers and their works - whether cheerleading, brainstorming, beta reading, or hands off, my writer deserves for me to be excited to read their work in September and give them comments. So it’s to both our benefit for me to pick something I like and want to read. Last year I picked a prompt off the suggestions list that I normally wouldn’t have. It actually turned out really well and I had tons of fun reading it, but it did make me think about maybe giving slightly more personalized prompts this year. 

(2) Leaving room for collaboration can be fun: Both of the works I submitted last year were in mostly finished form. The bit of collaboration I got to do to adjust the work to the writer’s story was really fun, though. So this year I’m thinking about leaving some room for the writer to weigh in on the art.

Usuallysublimepenguin (role: artist): I’ve participated as an artist for a few years now and can warmly recommend joining, as it’s been such a joy every time.

Regarding the prompt list, I can certainly echo Fishing4Stars: draw something that you like! The list is great for sparking ideas, but be careful of picking the very specific ones; they might be something the prompter would want to read but not necessarily write. So, if it’s not something you want to draw, do not pick it. Use the list for inspiration, or if the list is too dauntingly large, go for something completely different from your own head.

My prompts have gone from quite detailed "Lothiriel, a new bride getting to know Éomer" to very open "here's one or two characters in a pose I wanted to draw; please fill in the blanks" or "Here's a landscape; please fill in the details." Keep in mind that the open prompts require quite high levels of collaboration, and that the stories might take you to new places you never even thought existed - but for me that works very well. Every single story that came from these prompts are dear to me. 

Ettelenë (roles: writer, sometimes artist). Since I am mainly a writer who sometimes draws, I tend to pick prompts that suit the characters or stories I want to tell. The first time I participated as a writer, it was with a prompt/character I never thought I would write about (mermaid Voronwë!), and, surprisingly, it was not the most challenging time. So, to start, writing or drawing something completely out of our comfort zones can actually draw people in. Nowadays, though, as I don't have much time to write a fully complex story with worldbuilding etc, I’ll go for the prompts that I am 100% sure I can bang 5k in the blink of an eye. As for drawings, I usually stick with what I do best, which is watercolor. And curiously enough, the two times I did art for TRSB, it was about the Valar, characters I mostly never write about, but who always spark my artistic creativity.

Raiyana (roles: writer): I have a tendency to fall in love with a piece or an idea and fall HARD… so far, happily, the artists have been pleased to have me write for them ;) And then I find that weird secondary prompt in the gallery, generally during second claims, that tickles Something. I usually filter out characters/ideas I definitely can’t do and then something or someone (often a co mod, actually) will challenge me to come up with a way to do a prompt and spark another fire of creativity ;). 

I never thought I’d be able to write a streamer script version of FoG, but here we are…

Lathalea (roles: writer, artist): When I joined TRSB for the first time, as a writer, I definitely felt overwhelmed with the size of the event and the amount of prompts, and then art pieces. It wasn’t easy to pick just one, so many of them screamed “pick me!”. I managed to narrow them down and mull over them for some time. I asked myself what ideas and parts of the Tolkien legendarium spoke to me the most, what “blank areas” of Middle Earth I would like to fill with my works, and how I wanted to do this. What I learned back then is that it worked for me best to focus on a very particular and narrow theme so that I could delve into proper worldbuilding – which is something I live for when it comes to Dwarves and their culture.

Finally, I chose the one that sparked the most creativity in me that year. I feel that for writers who decide to work on a specific art piece, prompts can be a great help, making you enrich your story or add a detail or two that you wouldn’t have thought of otherwise. As a bonus, you get at least one very happy reader: the author of that specific prompt! 

One year later, I decided to submit art for TRSB because I liked the prompts so much – I just had to create a piece of visual art inspired by them. It resulted in a great cooperation that explored a completely new subject that I always wanted to focus on but never had a chance to do properly before.

Feel free to surprise yourself and pick prompts or ideas you haven’t worked on before, you never know what way your creativity will go!

Legolasbadass (roles: writer, artist): There are always too many great artworks, so I usually make a list of pieces I’d be most interested in writing for to help narrow down my choices. I look for ideas and characters I am most inspired by and comfortable writing about — though it can also be fun to step out of your comfort zone and try something new! Another really important thing for me is the collaboration level. I really enjoy brainstorming with the artist, sharing my progress with them, and getting regular feedback, so I tend to avoid choosing artists who prefer a less collaborative experience. 

When looking for inspiration for art, I usually look at the answers to the suggestions form as well as my personal list of prompts and pick an idea that I’d be most excited to share with someone. The collaborative aspect of the event is what excites and inspires me the most, so I tend not to submit an idea I feel too possessive of. I like working closely with an author and letting their vision inspire my art as much as my art will inspire their story.

[scarletttries]

Write A Kiss Request: Wyll Ravengard (Baldur's Gate 3) x GN!Reader...a kiss out of envy or jealousy

(prompt list here) & 2025 Request List - requests open for BG3

...a kiss out of jealousy for Wyll

The party had been your idea. Of course. It wasn't enough for you to make the world a better place with every action you took, you needed to bring joy and warmth everywhere you went too. Sometimes it was hard for Wyll to remember the days before he spent his time adventuring by your side, like trying to think of your dullest days in the midst of living dazzling new ones. You had given him purpose. But more than that, you had given him hope. A hope that his destiny was within his own hands, that he could make his own happiness and find a way to live his life full of pride. He only hoped that it would be by your side as well.

It was difficult to find the time to let you know how he felt. You swung from one near-death experience to another, each night the only moment of quiet contemplation shared with your whole group, hardly a moment passed alone between the two of you. Even now as the festivities escalated around him, Wyll hadn't noticed a single moment where you weren't surrounded by adoring companions and thankful locals. Admittedly if he left the secluded beach it might be easier to seek out a private word with you, but he hardly felt like stepping into the spotlight or drawing any more attention to himself than necessary. It hurt his heart watching as Gale fawned over you, leaning close and whispering some sly remark in your ear that had you throwing your head back in laughter. And then Shadowheart appeared by your side, drawing closer to your form and letting her fingertips dance delicately down your arm as she spoke to you.

The ache inside Wyll's chest threatened to crack him wide open as he watched suitor after suitor find their moment with you, all while he waited on the sidelines, willing himself to gather up the nerve to approach you.

"Are you okay Wyll?" He was kicking rocks into the crashing waves by the time you strolled towards him, missing your approach entirely in favour of focusing on his self-loathing. He spun to face you, the stars shining off your features like Selune herself illuminated you wherever you went, and struggled to find his words,

"Yes, apologies my fearless leader, I have never been one for parties, no matter how much your heroics deserve celebration." He sighed out earnestly, stepping away from the water's edge to drink you in in more detail. Wyll could look at you forever, sure that no creature in the realm had ever been in possession of more beauty, nor more worthy of such a stunning exterior to match your wondrous heart.

As he strode towards you, watching your thoughtful expression ponder his solemn remarks, he noticed the rest of the party couldn't help but monitor you as well, your magnetic energy drawing a wanting look from each of your companions as Wyll drew closer.

He wasn't sure what compelled him; the way you looked bathed in moonlight, hand outstretched to him as if his every prayer had been answered, or the lustful gaze of a certain wizard drifting over your shape from across the bonfire. But Wyll knew he couldn't deny the overwhelming urge that came over him as he took your hand, wondering if the meddlesome demons in charge of his destiny somehow drove him to insanity for a moment thinking about anyone else having you the way he craved. All sense of decency and chivalry cast aside, Wyll pulled you towards him not stopping short of you until your lips were just an inch from his. Using every ounce of self-control he possessed he paused there, giving you a moment to reflect. Giving you a moment to withdraw. Giving you a moment to cut him down before he could make any more of a fool of himself.

His will power quickly spent on that achingly long moment of hesitation, he dived in. His plump lips landed against yours with more force than you expected, a seemingly endless swell of wanting spilling out from his touch. His hands found your hips so he could stay firmly planted in front of you, body melting against yours as he felt you kiss him back. A smile played with the edges of his cheeks as he sought to keep your lips on his, every bit of contact filling him with the kind of magic he thought could only come from avernus. He could feel your hands reach up and cup his cheeks, not shying away from his scars but embracing them, taking him for everything that he is, the parts he liked and the parts he didn't. Your lips welcomed him the way your heart had, giving him a place to call home and a feeling of family he had lost so long ago.

Wyll barely realised just how widely he was smiling until finally you pulled back, caressing his cheek with your thumb as you looked into his eyes with a kindness that only made him want to kiss you again.

"Will you come and join the celebration now, Wyll?" Reminded of his surroundings, having forgotten there was anyone in this realm outside the two of you, Wyll scanned his eyes over your shoulder, locking eyes with a few disgruntled looking companions.

"Yes, I think I'll have a much better time now." He said with a wide, mischievous smile, mentally making no promises he won't rub being able to kiss you in everyone else's face.

[sentfromwolves]

◈—⌈ SENTFROMWOLVES ⌋ writeblr introduction ²⁰²⁴

Hi everyone, and welcome to my writeblr 2024 introduction. My name is Eran (they/he & freshly thirty) and I've been on writeblr for awhile, so you might've seen me around. ( •̀ ω •́ ) This is my yearly post to introduce the projects I'll be working on this year, what I write, and who I am. I'll be keeping it short and sweet.

I'd love to meet more writers this year, so if you write any of the following, or just like these genres, or even just wanna shout about ocs together, come holler and I'll give you a follow!

◈ — sci-fi and fantasy of any kind! cozy fantasy, romantasy, epic fantasy, space opera? this is my bread and butter, and I love shouting about it from the rooftops with others! ◈ — found families, ot3s, complicated soulmates. I am almost always writing about soulmates who have either killed each other at least once in the past or are planning some sort of murder. Complicated relationships, especially found families that aren't all rainbows and butterflies, are right up my alley. ◈ — queer and trans protagonists, large queer casts! all of my wips feature trans/nonbinary leads, and I'm always looking for more queer writer friends to connect with! ◈ — hope at the end of the tunnel, but hell to get to. I write stories with hopeful endings, with the sun on the horizon, with the promise that something better might now at long last be on the way. I love seeing characters get put through hell, but I love it even more when they make it to the other side. (if you write tragedy though, please know I will still cry on your doorstep if you'll have me) ◈ — corruption arcs, redemption arcs, sometimes both! Deeply nuanced characters with messy attitudes, and even messier actions. I'm just as equally obsessed with cool worldbuilding as I am with character-driven things, and I will yell about ocs all day, and maybe draw them too >:3 ◈ — big, epic, and sweeping worldbuilding! I am a huge fan of delving into the worldbuilding aspect of my wips. I love building magic systems, cultures, geographies, and more. One of my 2024 projects is doing a worldbuilding experiment blog at some point. I am always down to clown over worldbuilding, whether to sound board or just holler together!

There's a lot more I could say here, but this post can only get so long! Σ(っ °Д °;)っ my dms are always open, and I will follow back most of the time! But just to get all of the basics outta the way:

◈—« here's a quick and dirty rundown of how I work! »—◈

➺ I interact and follow from @calamityeden, so if you see that username, it's just me.✌️I am most active on discord, and if we become friends, you're more than welcome to ask to add me there. ➺ I am open to being tagged in writeblr games! Just know that I am not online all the time, and might be slow to respond to them. 🐌 ➺ My ask box and DMs are open, just please be respectful. I love meeting new writers and talking about projects! I am happy to chat and make new friends. You're always welcome! 💌 ➺ This is a strictly 18+ writeblr. Please DNI with me if you are a minor and respect my boundaries.

🪄You can find my core tags here under my writing and my graphics, as well as writer reminders, game train and catharsis. (❁´◡`❁) And now onto the fun part! My 2024 main project line up!

I have my main four listed here that you'll probably hear me yelling about pretty consistently, but I've also got a lot of other projects rattling around in my brain. So if you're ever curious about a project that's not here, feel free to yell at me about it! >:3

Genre: Dark Urban Fantasy Standalone.

Status: First Draft Complete (117k)—Revising for beta round one.

There's a clock tattooed on Nemesis's wrist, and when it reaches midnight on his 21st birthday, it will kill him. It doesn't help that his mom is the one that cursed him, and the demon currently possessing his car ate her before Nemesis could convince her to break the damned thing. Thankfully, Judge came prepared with an alternative: help him break into a mythical living city and steal its heart, and in return, he'll shatter Nemesis's curse for free. Accompanied by a three-headed hellhound, a haunted holy sword, and an excommunicated exorcist, Judge and Nemesis set their sights on an impossible heist. But the closer Nemesis gets to the heart, the more he begins to realize that he isn't the only one under a curse. And if he doesn't find a way to break Judge's soon, his own life will be forfeit as well.

Genre: Space Opera

Status: 2024 zero drafting from scratch

Two hundred years ago, humanity expanded to the stars only to find a cosmos filled with graves. But then their children began displaying the strange ability to commune with the alien ruins scattered across the planets, waking ancient, extrasolar mecha from their sleep, and turned the struggling colonies of space explorers into the fledgling galactic nation of Sol Galatea.  Now, Wren Akane is on the run from the whole galaxy, wanted for the strange alien powers throbbing through his veins. His luck runs out when he accidentally awakens an ancient Relic in the desert of his planet, only to be embedded with the memories of its last pilot and the revelation that the war that littered the cosmos with graves is far from over. But no one believes Wren when he tells them that continuing to wake the Relics will bring the hostile alien empire that destroyed them back to Sol Galatea’s doorstep. Only Wren’s rival pilot, Marek Khalid, seems interested in a word Wren has to say. But Marek doesn’t want to save Sol Galatea. He has big plans for what to do when the aliens arrive, a rebellion to lead, and if Wren isn’t on his side, he’s in his way. With time running out, Wren must soon decide how far he’s willing to go to save the people that never tried to save him—or if Marek is right, and he should let the stars burn instead.

Genre: Adult Romantasy

Status: First Draft (1k/100k)

Once a year, Celestials from all across the Lumina Kingdom gather together for Eventide, the season of courtship, hoping to win the hand of the most eligible star at court. Sirius knows the game they play all too well: by day, he is the forgettable, miserable daughter of the Lumina Family, least of his seven siblings and wanted only for the royal blood running through his veins.  By night, however, Sirius is the Starweaver—the mysterious dressmaker taking the kingdom by storm. Everyone wants to know the identity of the one responsible for elaborate outfits that turn even the quietest Celestial in the room into the star of the show, outshining even Sirius’s luminous sibling, Diana. When the infamous King Beyond Midnight arrives with the intent to wed Diana, Sirius finds his secret in jeopardy when the condition for their hand in marriage is a simple challenge: reveal the Starweaver's true identity. There’s no outsmarting Octavian for long, and soon, Sirius will have to make a choice: give up on his passion and stay hidden forever, or risk everything to stay true to who he really is.

Genre: Second World Urban Fantasy

Status: Outlining

Something changes the day that Nakano Touya returns to the crumbling city of Soma Lux. It starts with voices in the radio static, blurry figures caught on camera, always out of focus. When a monster crawls out of Touya's television screen and eats him, the last thing he expects is to find a strange, shadowy otherworld lurking on the other side. But his biggest problem isn't the monsters of the otherworld that want to eat him, or the talking cat that saved him, now living in his apartment without a care in sight. Soma Lux is experiencing a strange new epidemic—one that Touya is completely unaffected by. But when his half-sister falls comatose, Touya knows he has to get to the bottom of it all to save her—and find out why he's the only one immune. Accompanied by his jaded ex-boyfriend, Touya’s nosy classmates, a part-time fortune teller, and a cantankerous old hag, Touya dives into the murky underbelly of Soma Lux, where the realities have begun to bleed together between his world and the next. 

That's all for now! >:3 Here's to an amazing 2024! (also my actual blog is a mess right now please do not mind it ksjndfskfn)

[vespidclan]

just got here so I'm foggy at best on the lore, but here's some (more generic) questions you might like anyway? Asking a few so that, hopefully, one or two hasn't been asked yet - you of course don't have to answer all (or any) if you don't want to. :)!

What inspired you to do this story?

2. How do you warm up before starting drawing, if you do at all?

3. How do you warm up before storyboarding/writing scripts, etc; if you do at all?

4. When designing a character, what steps do you take? (Pinterest, google search "cat"?)

5. Do you have a favorite, least favorite?

6. What's your VespidClan music, if you listen to music? Any songs that scream your characters? The lore in general?

6a. ^ If you do listen to music, are there any songs that are completely unrelated to your characters that you associate with them anyway?

Bonus: Unrelated to your clan at all, but do you have a song you just hate? (Can you tell I like music?)

That's all I can think of for now. Hope this might spark joy among the... state of your inbox :)

I got inspired by a lot of other clangen blogs I was reading at the time. It sounds very generic but just seeing how many people in the clangen fandom (and warriors fandom for that matter) take the time to write stories simply out of a simulation game made me think “hey I can do that too!” so I just… started writing! Other stories that were big inspirations for Vespidclan were IHNMAIMS and The Mandela Catalogue to name a few. I’m a big fan of things with dread and scariness, I’d totally check these out of you haven’t already.

I usually look at cat references and the way other people draw poses for cats before drawing. Believe it or not I’m not very used to drawing quadrupeds, but at least Vespidclan helped me improved with that?

You all know I do the script/dialogue before I start drawing comics. I base off the script from what event happened during the moon and start off there, sometimes writing several scripts for a scene and figuring out which would be best (there was an alternate ending for The Frame-Up!)

Pinterest is a big help lol, but I try to figure it out on my own. Since they’re from clangen, the design is already there, I just give em shapes to work with and stuff! I really want every cat in Vespidclan to be distinct and unique (there will be a LOT of characters to work with), the sisters were a good starting point for that. Iciclestar is lean and spiky, Heartflicker is long and droopy, and Snakevalley is round yet sharp. Sizes also help differentiate the cats, which reminds me I really should make a size chart for them hehe

Webspeckle and Sparkbreak are my favorite designs, but Heartflicker is my favorite to draw. It’s not that I hate her design but Iciclestar can be such a pill to draw, I made the mistake of giving her cool eyes and head shape that I can’t ever get right!

Secret is out! I DID have a Vespidclan song list on Spotify! I say I did because I have to remake it since I made whipped it up while I was just figuring out the story and I think it doesn’t really fit it much currently. Maybe I’ll fix it someday………….But there is a 404 playlist you can listen to. 404 is a very compelling character to write about, she still is! I thought making a personal playlist for her would help with that.

I’ve somewhat mentioned it before but Shut Eye by Stealing Sheep fits Heartflicker, and Who Can It Be Now? by Men At Work suits Stonepaw, maybe there will be more later on!

Don’t start me now—I despise every and all songs from The Beatles. I get angry when I hear it. It isn’t anything bad, it’s just a personal vendetta that I acquired in the 4th grade that would be too long to elaborate on. Like I ain’t even joking, I’m really not a spiteful person… but hearing The Beatles ruins my mood (one song especially, but that’s a story for another day)

[subsystems]

Do you have any tips for system mapping as a polyfragmented system? Every time we've tried to make one we've just gotten overwhelmed by how many parts there are and how much we don't know

Hi anon! I have some advice based off of my own experience. I hope it will work for you (I'm sorry if it doesn't, though). First, I want to stress that it's okay if you can't create a perfect system map. I've never been able to make one that felt 100% correct, and I've tried many times!

Being dissociative can make it quite difficult to understand what's going on internally. You might have a hard time understanding yourself as an individual part, let alone understanding the other parts in your system. On top of that, your system might have some complex inner organization, like subsystems or parts-within-parts. Don't even get me started on how amnesia can make this all even more confusing, too!

So, remember to cut yourself some slack when it comes to system mapping. Your struggles with it are completely understandable!

Tips for System Mapping When Your System is Confusing as Hell

Make your own template.

A lot of pre-made system mapping templates contain things that don't apply to everyone, aren't important to everyone, or not everyone knows enough about their parts to answer. Some designs might not fit how your system functions. So, if pre-made templates don't work for you...don't use them! Try making your own!

When it comes to your own template, I think it's important to be mindful of your current stage of recovery. If you don't know a lot of things about your parts, that's okay -- that's where you're at in your recovery right now. In that case, you probably shouldn't create a template that requires you to write down a ton of information. Allow yourself to include your confusion and questions into your system map!

Think about what you want to keep track of when it comes to your parts. What would be the most useful things for you and your therapist to know? Yours will probably look different but here was the template that I settled on:

Does the part have a name?

Do they feel younger or older than the body?

What are they associated with?

Anything else?

And here's an example of how I would fill this out:

Does the part have a name? I don't think so

Do they feel younger or older than the body? Much younger

What are they associated with? The color yellow, puppies, childhood, abandonment, crying

Anything else? Likes puppies and drawing, sometimes buys candy without our knowing, unsure if this is one part or actually several

Get messy with it.

I understand the desire to have a neat system map. I've always wanted to have a perfect list of all my parts, all the important details about them, maybe organized into some sort of chart too. But these things doesn't always capture the complexities of being dissociative and having parts. Sometimes, you got to get messy.

I feel like the closest I ever came to a system map that felt the most "right" was in my therapist's sand tray. I picked out different figurines to represent my parts, placing some closer together than others. I would also move the sand, making big and low hills beneath and between parts, burying some things, cutting lines around other things. Something like this picture, but way more chaotic:

You can do this at home. You don't even need sand or figurines. You could grab some objects from around the house or outside, print or cut out pictures, grab some paints, scribble on paper, sculpt something out of clay, etc. Pick out something to represent certain parts or feelings or situations. Place them wherever, move them however, just let it kind of unfold naturally. Then take a picture of it and/or write about it (so you don't forget)!

Maybe put the trauma stuff somewhere else.

You'll probably feel tempted to record trauma memories and triggers associated with parts -- but it's probably best to write that stuff down somewhere else! You want your system map to be something that all parts can look at. Try not to jump-scare them with trauma that they may or may not know about yet.

This won't apply to everyone but, in my own experience, including stuff like this in our system map triggered our avoidance. Not only did it make creating the system map harder, it also resulted in some parts destroying/hiding what we wrote as a way to protect themselves and other vulnerable parts.

Aaand that's all I have to say, I think. Good luck with your system mapping, anon! - Sunflower

[whumpster-dumpster]

(this ask ended up getting much more rambly than expected haha)

hello, i love your blog and whump in general and i would like to try and get involved in the community.

thing is, i feel really weird/embarrassed for liking whump (even before i knew the term). like ashamed i guess? (im not sure how to put it into words exactly). so i dont want to tell any of my irl freinds that im into it/put it on my main since some of my irl freinds follow my main.

and i do draw and i used to write but i dont really know how to draw/write whump yk? (though i have written whumpy things before, when i was like 10, they were really shit though by virtue of me being a 10 year old) and i feel too shy to put any of my work out into the internet for all to see, espcially my writing because i havent actually written prose fiction in. years. i have played dnd (and my campaigns do tend to get pretty whumpy) but i dont think the experiance of roleplaying it really translates well to the internet?

so i was wondering if you have any tips for 1 getting involved in the whump community and 2 managing feeling embarrased about liking whump

Here's an equally rambly answer! First off, welcome to the community! You're definitely not alone in liking it or in feeling embarrassed about liking it. A lot of us, myself included, have our moments where we feel weird for our interest.

I can't tell you how to get over that because I still feel embarrassed sometimes but pinpointing your reasons for liking it can make it easier to explain if someone inquires. Is it the aesthetic? The drama, the adrenaline? The character development? Is it a coping mechanism? A kink? We've got community members whose reasoning is all across the spectrum. Understanding your reason can be reassuring and help it make sense.

As for the shyness, a lot of us make side blogs for whump content, so it can be a little more isolated/private if we feel awkward about IRL/main blog followers seeing. If your art style is easily recognizable as yours, that might not be the best solution but also remember you don't have to post what you draw (or write.) You can create whump content just for you (and if you decide you do eventually want to post some, that will have served as good practice.)

There are whump prompt lists coming out all the time that can be used for art or writing if you don't know what you want to make. You should look up the whump wheel, it's a fun one!

Re: getting more involved in the community: believe it or not, there are whump roleplayers floating around in the tags pretty often! They'd probably enjoy another roleplay partner on the scene! Beyond that, liking people's posts, reblogging them to that side blog if you decide to make it, coming into their inboxes to say you enjoy their content, sending in prompts if whump fic writers are asking for some, posting prompts of your own if there's a type of whump content you notice lacking and want to inspire someone to explore...There are monthly whump events happening all the time too if you want to participate or just reblog to help promote them. You could also ask if another whump artist wants to do an art trade with you. Those are some of the best ways to dive in!

I hope that was helpful. Have fun!

[bababaka]

Tell me a story. And i'll tell you a thousand more - Bade x reader

Summary: Hollywood Arts, the most privilleged arts school in the USA. And amongst many young talented teens, you were chosen to enter it. To be study there and be part of it. You couldn't believe it.

"Holy shit! I got in!"

This will change your life! And you are determined to make the most of it.

Warnings: swear words, not edited completely, i just needed to get this out of drafts, i will later edit.. And... that's it i guess? Like, bullying, mean teachers, but nothing much i guess. Oh, i also used google translate. So yeah. Have fun.

Author's note: so, i had this in my drafts for a while. I always had a crush on these two, and nobody wrote a fic with those two that fulfilled my need for them, so... here i am. Trying to mash my thoughts together and write something at least nice or ok. Im trying to write well. Don't have high expectations, im not a seasoned writer yet. Might never be. Also, unfortunately for me and you guys, this is a multichapter fanfiction. Sooo, you'll have to bear with me with slooooow updates. And im sorry for that. Anyways, enough chit chat, i present you, the chapter one to this mess.

Chapter 1 : I got in!

“Hollywood Arts”. The most privileged arts school in the United States of America. Only the most talented people passed the test. The list of competitors was huge. But, here you were, Y/N Y/L/N, in front of the school gates. You had passed the test, thousands of people competing against each other, and you had succeeded.

Honestly, it seemed too good to be true. The majesty of the construction, students, certainly in their second and third year, full of confidence, dancing, singing, playing, drawing, acting and even proclaiming poetry.

This was too much to digest.

You could barely believe it when you read the email, your mother cheering and shouting in the background, while you remained frozen staring at the computer, reading and re-reading your school admission.

The best arts school in the country.

You entered.

Holy shit! I entered!

You have always been passionate about dancing.

It all started when your mother caught you in your room dancing to “hips don’t lie” in a completely clumsy and enthusiastic way. She then decided to take you to dance classes. You were 4 years old.

Years passed and you fell in love.

Dancing was expressing yourself. Tell a story. Saying what words were sometimes unable to express. Sadness. Happiness. Emotion. Desire. Anger. Feelings in their purest form.

And then, you discovered ballet.

Ballet made your heart race in a way nothing else did. The slow and elegant steps, fast and rigorous. Dancing made you feel alive, happy, ecstatic.

At the height of your 10 years, watching a small part of the film your mother was watching, Black Swan, before her noticing your presence and kicking you out to your room, you found yourself trapped, in a trance, enchanted by the dance, by the way how the actress moved, how she leapt into the air and landed softly on the stage.

The next day, you begged your mother to take you to ballet classes.

At first, it was difficult. The dance classes previously were fun, relaxed. Here, they asked for excellence. Your teacher was strict and classmates were mean. There were many days when you came home crying or upset. Your mother tried to change classes, convince you to go back to dance classes, but you were stubborn. And you were more than determined to show everyone, your teacher, your classmates, that you were good, that you could be the best. So you did what you could, trained and trained, danced until your toes grew calluses and you could no longer support yourself properly.

It was difficult, but now, more than ever, you saw the results of your efforts. Oh, how you would love to see the faces of the girls who tried to get into the school but failed. You did it.

#Suckit

You would love to rub it in each of their faces. But, you didn't have time for that. What you had to do was take a deep breath, enter those gates and find where your first class would be.

Here we go.

The hallways were crazy, lost students like you walked by, friends who hadn't seen each other for the entire vacation and others who argued, dissatisfied with the classes they fell into.

Although you felt tempted to ask one of the students, you thought it would be safer to ask an adult. Supervisor, coordinator, any adult. A teacher, janitor.

You didn't trust students, especially at a talent school, the ego and arrogance must be astronomical.

You watched Glee. You didn't want to end up in a crackhouse.

But unfortunately, the hallways were full of teenagers, and there was no teacher, sign, or voices coming out of speakers magically guiding you in the direction of your next class.

You look around, searching for someone who was as lost as you. You didn't want to be the only idiot who didn't know their way around.

You find something similar.

A boy your age, talking and gesturing. He seemed to be asking a paralyzed girl for directions. She didn't even seem to be paying attention.

You didn't know exactly why she was perplexed, maybe he was saying absurd things, but you wouldn't be surprised if the cause of the paralysis was the boy's beauty.

He was beautiful. Dark skin, brown hair, delicate features, not to the point of being androgynous, but of being harmonious, pleasing to the eye. A relaxed brown look, although it is becoming confused and dull.

You decided to step in and save the girl the embarrassment of being caught drooling, and, as a bonus, get the information you so desperately wanted. The direction for your next class, acting.

– Excuse me, uh, I'm lost. Could you help me?

This seemed to work. The boy's posture relaxed, and the girl, in turn, came out of her trance and began to glare at you, shooting lasers from her eyes.

The boy smiled. And, wow. He had incredibly white teeth, and it looked like you were the only girl in the world, the tiny curve of his mouth pulled you in like he was the center of the Earth. The look that had a charm, brown like melted chocolate and all you wanted was to dive in and get lost in them.

Perhaps you have entered a trance.

But as soon as he started talking, you forced yourself to pay attention and not make a fool of yourself.

– I'm also lost. I was asking her – he turned to the “laser beam look”, who immediately stopped with the murderous expression. – But I don’t think you know, do you?

– What? I know! Of course I know! Nobody knows more than me! – and then she started walking, supposedly in the direction of the room where the boy had his class. – You're a first year, right? – she asked the pretty boy, completely ignoring you.

He looked at you sideways.

– Uh, yes, yes, I am. – She nods, and turns forward, determined, as she starts talking without stopping.

She says her name, Trina Vega, how she got into school, how she is so talented at so many things, how popular she was, and that they would make a great couple. At this part, you were shocked, eyes widening quickly, mouth falling open. She was… direct.

And maybe a little clueless, considering that the boy started to walk more slowly, putting distance between him and Trina, and standing next to you.

He leans into your side.

– She's a little… eccentric…

You laugh.

– That may be an understatement. – You look at Trina, who continued to talk. – Look, she hasn't even noticed that you're not paying attention, or even close to her.

It was his turn to laugh.

– Yeah… – He clears his throat. – I'm Beck, nice to meet you. – He stops for a moment, and extends his hand to you.

You say your name and take his hand, shaking it. Soon he started walking again so as not to lose sight of Trina, who was still talking.

– You’re a first year too, right? – You nod in response. – Yeah, I imagined it. Which course did you enroll in?

– Dance, more specifically, ballet. You?

– Cool. I came to do drama, acting.

– Cool. – You smile, he reciprocates.

For a moment, you forgot what you were saying, going and even thinking. He was cute, handsome and had a nice voice to listen to, something rare coming from a teenager. The short hair thrown to the side, looked soft, made you want to run your fingers through the strands.

The cute boy's small, happy smile was damaging your brain, because the world disappeared around him and you couldn't think about anything else.

Until, finally, Trina realized that Beck wasn't close to her, much less listening to what she was saying.

– Hey! – she called. You turned to her, who had a frown that turned into a forced smile. – We arrived, and you didn’t tell me your name. – She leans over and smiles at Beck.

You were ignored, again.

– Oh, it's Beck. And this is. – He tries to introduce you, say you name and be polite. But Trina interrups him, muttering “whatever” and heading back to the door.

Well, that was nice.

– Sikowits, I brought two lost students. – Then the bell rings, and Trina turns to Beck. – I'll see you around, Beck. – He blinked. And gone, probably to his own class.

– Please don't. – Beck says, with a pained expression. But it was too late, Trina couldn't hear him anymore, or at least, she pretended not to.

You sympathized with the situation.

It seems that being too handsome had its downsides.

His attention returned to the teacher who was at the door.

Bald, messy hair and beard, a slightly unbalanced look, layer after layer of clothing, he had a sloppy style. Maybe he was a hippie. Or just weird. It was probably both.

The hippie professor smiled, in a warm, disturbing way (you seriously wondered if that man was sane. You hoped he was).

– Be welcome! What are your names?

Beck withdraws into himself, becoming shy. How cute.

– Beck Oliver.

The please-don't-be-crazy teacher leans over to look at a list that was laid out on the table. The list of student names.

He turns to the boy beside him.

– Oliver? Alberto Oliver?

Beck puts his hand on the back of his head, looks at you sideways, and nods.

– Yes, but I prefer Beck.

– Understood! Come in, come in. – He calls Beck with his hand enthusiastically, the boy enters and sits in one of the chairs. Then, the bald professor turns to you. – Your name?

You say your full name.

– Oh yes. It's here too. Come in and sit down. The class is about to start. I just have to find the lost and innocent sheep that are lost in the corridors.

You made a face when you heard the phrase… He sounded so weird that way…

As long as he didn't kill or abuse anyone and was a good teacher, you wouldn't have a problem.

You entered the room and deciding quickly and safely, you turned to Beck, hoping to find an empty seat next to the boy. But, as expected, all the seats evaporated, and Oliver found himself surrounded by people, mostly girls.

You sighed and sat in the front, next to a girl with red hair (it didn't look natural, but you'd ask later) who had a friendly smile on her face. It seemed like a good option.

You sat down, and introduced yourself. The girl smiled, with her white teeth and a gentle and innocent aura formed around her.

– I'm Cat!

You smiled, enchanted by the redhead's cuteness.

– Cat? Like the animal? – the girl walked away, running her hand through her hair, her brow furrowed.

– What? What do you mean by that?

– No! I'm just saying that cat sounds like a kitten. – You explained yourself, nervously. You didn't want to scare the girl.

– Kittens? I like kittens! They're so cute!

You let out the breath you were holding. Cat returned to the bubble of innocence and happiness that she was at the beginning.

– Yes, they are.

Then, the professor, Sikowitz, if that was really what Trina called him, came back into the room, with a coconut and straw in one hand, and sunglasses in the other.

– Well done, class! I'm not going to ask you to introduce yourselves. You will improvise a scene. You will play the person next to you, I don't care if you don't know each other. Create a character and then live the character!

The Hippie Man asked them one by one to come forward in front of the class.

There were some interesting and funny monologues.

A black boy, with dreadlocks, a beautiful smile and lots of charm, played a shy nerd who stuttered around girls and had a puppet who made derogatory comments about the situation.

The scene was hilarious. Especially when he started interacting with the students while in character.

There were some very good ones.

Beck, who, to your surprise, played one of the girls surrounding him, and, unfortunately for Sikowitz, used the teacher as his scene partner. He was visibly uncomfortable. And the girl too. Shrinking in her chair as Beck performed, exposing how irritating she was.

She'll probably leave the boy alone after this.

Probably.

There was also another girl, brown hair, black leather jacket and pants. She was incredible. Before getting into character, she seemed closed off, grumpy, with a frown on her face. But, as soon as the scene began, her entire expression and body language changed to a more clumsy and agitated girl like a nice but extremely clumsy girl.

And other performances could improve. You were part of the last group. See, you were a dancer, not an actress. You knew you had to take acting classes, but that didn't mean it was your strong point.

You had to play Cat. You weren't horrible, but you could have done better. When he had to face all the attentive eyes of your classmates and the teacher, a chill took over your stomach and a pressure to not make mistakes was placed in your mind. At first, it was difficult, but as the scene developed, your performance improved.

As the last student finished presentation, the teacher stood up, applauding.

– Very good! You have to learn and perfect the ability to transform into a character in a short time, to analyze your character and to transform yourself in the snap of a finger. – He snapped his fingers right in your face, you jerked away reflexively, startling yourself. He smiled. And the bell rang. – Anyway. That's all for today. You even had the chance to socialize and get to know each other. – he said as everyone got up and left. You did the same, gathered your things and stood up. You were at the door when you heard him sigh and murmur:

– Ah, being young, I can remember what it was like to have dreams and hope.

…You were sure this wasn't normal…

You heard your name. You turned around, and saw red hair, you looked down, realizing that Cat was smaller than you. That made her even cuter.

– What class do you have now?

You searched your pockets, in the slim hope of finding your schedule. After long, embarrassing moments, you found it and read it out loud.

– Ballet.

– Oh, I have singing lessons now – Cat seemed to deflate. But only for a few seconds. – Do you want to sit with me at lunch?

You responded quickly, jumping at the opportunity of not having to be alone during lunch.

– Yes of course! – You looked around, remembering Beck, hoping to see him, but in vain, he had already disappeared into the corridors. But, you didn't let that bother, or sadden you, you would invite him to sit with you at lunch, in the low probability of being able to do so before the boy was bombarded by people.

– OK! Until lunch then!

Finding the ballet class was easy. You just followed the smell of pain, tears, deceit and extreme competition.

…Actually, you just followed the girls in buns and leotards.

You entered the room, or rather dance salon. The floor was smooth and black, a large mirror covering the entire wall, a large speaker and a piano at the back of the room.

The teacher, apparently, was not there. But the students were already stretching. Some in groups, others alone.

You saw some faces you had already anticipated. The rich, mean girls who were born doing ballet. The girl obsessed and completely focused on doing her best, making her potentially meaner than the other girls. The pretty boy who, because he does ballet, thinks he's cool and that everyone is in love with him. The boy who feels the need to say all the time that he's not gay, he just likes to express himself through dancing!

However, you also saw other faces you hadn't seen before, and that was a pleasant surprise. Dealing with the same types of people became boring.

Hollywood Arts would be a beginning, not only of your artistic career, but of a social life in ballet. I didn't want to ruin your high school experience with drama, toxicity, and cliques.

But unfortunately, you didn't have the best start. Because while you were analyzing and admiring everything around you, your teacher arrived, and it was then that you noticed, everyone was stretched out and dressed appropriately, while you were still standing, wearing jeans, sneakers and a shirt. No stretching.

It was instantaneous. Not only did the teacher's eyes land on you. The entire room was focused on you.

Shit. You flinched.

– You're late. – The teacher says, approaching you, like a predator approaches its prey. A panther, walking elegantly and silently, with total firmness and confidence, about to attack a beautiful and vulnerable little rabbit. The panther knows that the rabbit is already dead. Only a matter of time for death to actually occur, until the panther snatches the prey.

The bunny becomes alert, realizing the danger. Look around. Pay attention to your ears and sharpen your vision.

– The bell hasn't rung yet and class starts in 3 minutes.

The panther stops. Paying attention to the victim's movements, but at no time revealing their position or losing their calm.

– Exactly. 3 minutes and you're like this. – She points to your clothes, with clear disdain. The rabbit flinches, sensing claws wrapping around its fur. – Without the leotard and without stretching. Unprepared. I start my class on time, warm-ups start when the bell rings. So, miss late, you have – the teacher glanced briefly at the clock and turned her eyes to you. – 2 minutes to put on your clothes and stretch, otherwise you will go to detention and will not be able to participate in this class.

The rabbit begins to struggle, panic arising as it sees the possibility of death right in front of it.

– But just to get to the bathroom takes a minute.

The teacher smiles, in a sadistic and amused way.

– Then, I suggest you run.

Crunch! Fur turning scarlet, sharp fangs tearing flesh, paws playing with the limp, lifeless body.

You took off. Hearing giggles and one last image of the teacher's smile

The predator was sated. For now.

You admitted it. You've never stretched so quickly and inefficiently, nor were you so frivolous when adjusting your tights.

But, it was what you had to offer at that moment.

– Miss late! You have exceeded your time of 2 minutes, but as I am in a good mood I will let it pass. Let it serve as a warning to everyone. Be prepared BEFORE class starts. Otherwise, well, you don't want to find out. Now, don't just stand there, join the warm-up!

And you fumbled a little out of pure nervousness, and heard some giggling around, but after a few minutes, you were already in your element.

The warm-up was brutal.

Yes, of course, you already had years of ballet, but still, the teacher seemed to want you to kill yourself in the warm-up. Because it lasted 40 minutes.

To you, it felt like two hours.

Damn, who warms up for 40 minutes? Well, apparently, your new teacher.

When the warm-up, which lasts longer and is heavier than you're used to, finally ends, you're sweating profusely and out of breath. Some were in the same state as you, others were worse, and a group of girls were in better shape, they were sweaty and out of breath, but still, visibly more composed.

The teacher waited in silence for a few moments. Just analyzing all the students.

The teacher approaches the group of 5 who were sitting on the floor, taking in lots of air, barely avoiding getting sick. Some were coughing.

– Pathetic. – She said, her lips lifting in disgust and disdain. – What would your names be?

The group fumbled among themselves, saying full names, others just trying and failing in between, preferring to breathe. One boy almost threw up.

The teacher put her hands in the air and waved them. Exasperated.

– Stop, stop, stop. Are you by any chance animals? Don't know how to speak one at a time? – she sighs. – What were you thinking when they accepted you? Hmph… Disgusting…

– Why does every ballet teacher have to be mean? – a girl next to you commented quietly. You laughed quietly, bitterly, as you watched the teacher insult the poor young teens on the floor.

– It must be something they need to have on their resume. “Expert in torturing teenagers.” – You responded in an equally silent tone.

– Also, didn’t she have a vote in the admission of students? Why does she complain about the school's admissions system if she is part of it?

You shrugged.

– Some evil plan to destroy our self-esteem?

The girl quickly turned to you, a small smile on her face and an outstretched hand, as subtle as she could without drawing the teacher's attention.

– I'm Daisy.

You introduced yourself.

And in mutual and silent agreement, they turned to the teacher. You feared what would happen if the teacher caught the students talking.

Your attention returned to the scene and you only heard the last two names of the group. All red, from shame or exhaustion, you didn't know. The teacher didn't answer anything, just left them on the floor, recovering, and started walking around the room, quickly passing in front of each student.

– You are… Pathetic. Some more than others. But – she made a show of sighing loudly. – As you were accepted, I will make you true artists, dancers. You must breathe ballet, move with elegance and dexterity at all times, and face the world, the stage without fear. The classes will be difficult, long and will demand determination and strength from each person. And I will not hesitate to take punitive action against those who are not taking this seriously. Because, as your teacher, your performance in the future will reflect on my image. Therefore, now they will imitate me. I'm the best, and so will you.

The teacher pauses, and you can hear the tension in the air, the nervousness and everyone shifting in their seats, anxious.

– Am I understood?

Several voices sounded throughout the room, including yours. All saying yes. The teacher smiled.

– Good. Now, let's start the class.

You swallowed hard, already feeling tired, but still, strangely excited. It would be a challenge, and you loved difficult things.

After painful and sadistic hours (yes, hours!), the class was finally released for lunch, and then afternoon classes.

The teacher informed them that the ballet class had an exclusive bathroom and that if they wanted (but, from the disgusted way she sounded, it seemed more like a requirement) they could take a shower there.

You perked up when you heard this, and most of the students did too. It would be horrible to have to continue at school with all that crust of sweat on your body.

So, after the teacher left, everyone packed their things and went to either take a shower or have lunch.

You were more than ready to head to the bathroom and shower. You were tired, but the sweat on your body bothered you more than fatigue.

– Hey, are you going to eat or take a shower first?

You looked to the side. The girl you talked to after the warm-up. Was it Daphne? Daniela? Delilah? No, that was ridiculous. It was something with D.

– Im going to the shower. I couldn't eat something feeling dirty.

– You sure? As we are being released early, the queue is non-existent to buy… Anything.

– I'm sure. – You smiled, slightly touched by the girl’s kindness. She waved and said goodbye to you, leaving for lunch.

After a long and well-deserved shower, you head to the cafeteria where the food was. Heavens, how hungry you were!

Arriving in the area, you began looking for Cat and Beck. Not surprisingly, you found Beck first. Surrounded by people, girls and boys.

You decide to try to get past the crowd and rescue Beck, who now seems overwhelmed.

You squeeze between people, making your way through elbows and curses, until you reach the center, feeling several hateful looks on you.

Beck's face lights up when he sees you, and he calls your name, approaching you.

– Hey, what are you doing? – he asks, ignoring the entire crowd around him, and you can feel the commotion that this generates. You smile, focusing on nothing more than the boy in front of you.

– Trying to save you from this crowd by inviting you to lunch with me and Cat.

– Oh, please! I would love to.

You swear something happened around you. People cursed him, complained, maybe even hit you, but your brain melted a little when you saw Oliver's smile. A captivating, happy, friendly expression. It seemed like the air around him shimmered and exuded something almost surreal.

What brought you back to reality was a tap on your shoulder.

– So, where are you sitting? – Beck asked and then you realized, the crowd had dissipated and only the pretty boy was by your side.

– Uh, actually, I haven't chosen the table, nor have I found Cat yet. – You then start looking for the redhead. The brunette at his side.

– Ah, I see… Who is Cat? Your pet? Are animals even allowed at school?

You laugh.

– No, no. She's a girl I met today, in drama class, while you were being surrounded by… Everyone…

Beck sighed and nodded in a more crestfallen manner. You stop looking around for a moment, to fix your eyes on him.

– Does this happen a lot? You're famous and I'm the only one who didn't notice?

– No, I'm not famous, at least not yet. I'm just pretty. – He shrugs lightly, as if it weren't a big deal. And you stop walking, and let out a disbelieving laugh. This time, his lips move to form a cocky smile.

– What? Are you going to say i'm not? – he prods you, and you fumble over your words, not wanting to deny it, but certainly not wanting to confirm it either. However, to your relief, he just laughs at your reaction and continues talking. – People have always approached me because of my – he raises his hands to gesture quotation marks with his fingers. - "exotic beauty". Eventually, I just got used to it.

You observe the boy next to you. Really analyzes him.

He didn't seem like the kind of boy who was an asshole, who thought he was better than everyone else, who believed he had everyone at his feet, when he really didn't.

Beck just seemed aware of the reality he found himself in. After all, he was handsome. Short but silky hair, great style of clothing that sold the cool kid look. If you had to guess, he seemed like a relaxed but extremely cunning type of boy. The guy who smiled at everyone, but had a mouth that dripped with venom.

You had your thoughts interrupted by a high-pitched female voice calling your name. Cat. He took one last look at Beck, who maintained a relaxed posture and the remains of a smile.

Well, you deduced, only time will show Oliver's true face, whatever it may be.

– Cat! I was looking for you! – you approached the redhead. She lit up.

– And, did you find me?

– Apparently, you found me. – When saying this, the redhead makes a sad expression.

– Oh, wow, what a shame. – You frowned, not understanding the line of reasoning, but before you could say anything, Cat was already addressing Beck. – Hi, I'm Cat. – she introduced herself, waving energetically.

Beck laughed, like you would laugh at something cute a puppy did, and waved back, but without the redhead's excessive enthusiasm.

You guys go look for a table. And when they find it, they realize they had nothing to eat. Luckily there was a food truck nearby, and everyone ordered something.

At the table, everyone talked about themselves. You revealed that although it inspired you, you never saw the film Black Swan. Cat talked about her love for purple giraffes and her brother. You were worried at that part, you didn't know if the small girl was joking or not.

Beck talked about how he moved from Canada with his parents to Los Angeles just for school, and talked excitedly about how he liked cars and was looking forward to getting his own.

When they heard sobs around them, that's when they left the bubble they were in.

– You're a bitch!

A blonde girl, green eyes, swollen and moist. She was the one who jumped out of her chair and screamed. Despite her anguished expression, she looked firmly at the table in front of her, and the person who was sitting there.

You recognized who it was from your theater class. She had a gothic style. Eyeliner, black nails, combat boots and dark clothes.

The green-eyed goth girl, you noticed, raised her eyebrow and took her eyes in a deliberate and prolonged manner to the bare legs of the girl in front of her.

– I'm not the one with the scraped knees.

She smiled cruelly, and amidst the deadly silence, a few muffled giggles could be heard.

The blonde girl choked. Tries to justify herself, you think she had says about a skateboard, but was unsuccessful. Then she resignes herself to letting out a sob and running away.

The goth turned her smile into a frown, and looked around, the many eyes in her direction. She faced everyone and with a loud, rude and direct voice, she shouted.

– What are you looking at? – and everyone went back to doing what they did before. Well, you asume that everyone had done it, you didn't bother to check. You just kept your attention on the girl. Curious. You wanted to know what had happened. And how she had made someone cry on the first day of school.

You hated this type of attitude, behavior, personality. You might not be the kindest girl in the world, but you certainly weren't cruel. Even when you felt the urge to be.

It was a shame that such a beautiful girl, with brown hair and green eyes, could be so horrible.

You assumed that beauty would spoil a person. You just hoped Beck wouldn't turn out to be that kind of person. Then, you finally returned your gaze to the table, and discovered that you weren't the only one who remained looking at her. The pretty boy also had his sights set on the table that only had one mean girl on it.

– She's mean. – Cat spoke up, breaking the silence as well as Beck's admiration and thoughts.

– She is. – Beck agrees, nonchalant.

You remain silent, taking one last look in the girl's direction.

It doesn't take long before the bell rings. You say goodbye to them both and head towards classes in the afternoon. The part of your curriculum is completely normal and, after theater and ballet classes, terribly boring.

Chemistry, geography and math classes stretched out, as if they had no end, like a rubber band that when it thought it was about to break, it stretched a little more. However, it didn't matter anymore, you were finally free to go home.

You were exhausted, physically, mentally and spiritually. Names of teachers, subjects, exercises, classmates piling up and colliding in your brain. You had absolutely no energy for anything.

Unfortunately for you, however, when you open the door to your house, you come across your mother, waiting, sitting in a chair, almost jumping with excitement. The true image of a puppy anxiously waiting for its owner.

Your heart is heavy, and your body and soul scream with frustration. You just wanted your bed. But, your mother sees you and you simply accept that you would have to stay awake for a few more moments.

Your mother spews questions one after another at you.

"How it was?"

“Have you made friends yet?”

“Are all teachers weird?”

“Is there anyone famous?”

“Did they treat you well?”

"Are you well?"

"Are you hungry? I made dinner!”

While eating, you told your mother everything, it didn't take long for you to get excited too, even though you were tired.

You leave out some details, like teachers and some bad people, but otherwise, you confess everything. The many beautiful people, with a few exceptions, the strange talents and habits you noticed, strange and normal teachers.

However, sleepiness and tiredness manifested itself through yawning and heavy eyes. Your mother, realizing this, immediately sends you up to your room to get some sleep.

After a relaxing shower, you lay down on your bed, comfortable under the blankets.

Ah, finally.

Chapter 2

[minty-stars1803]

~Cyphmen on my mind lately~

Thinking long and hard about cyphmen a lot lately.

How omen probably picked up on and bakes Amir his favorite sweets, or cooks him his favorite meals.

How he probably brings him a pot of tea after a long days work (with extra mint, just like he likes it).

Has taken to simply putting sugar on the side instead of doing for him bc He never quite got down how Amir likes it. Sometimes he puts none, other times he loads his cup. (I like to think he prefers it less sweet most of the time)

Omen, who is one of the few with the privilege of seeing Amir’s face in this day and age.

Omen, who makes the effort to savor every moment of seeing Amir’s face like it might be the last.

He makes note of every freckle and mole, every wrinkle and smile line, every scar and indent, every spot left by his vitiligo. (yes I HC that cypher has it just like his VA)

One would think that he could draw cypher by memory.

And he does.

It’s known that omen explores baking, caring for bonsai trees, and knitting amongst other things, as a means of hobby and easing himself.

So what if he draws and paints in his pass time as well.

If he keeps sketchbooks, half the pages are full of Amir, the things that remind him of Amir, things related to him, things he likes.

Omen would keep a whole museum of his lovers face if he could.

It took them so long to let each other in.

To learn to be open to others again, especially in a romantic sense.

After all that has happened in both their pasts, trust and love probably wouldn’t be first on the list of things desired or thought of.

It takes Amir so long to rest assured once he finally lets his guard down around omen.

What if he looses him too, what if it goes sour.

I like to think he tracks and keeps tabs on omen quite a bit more than the other agents.

Omen tries to reassure him constantly that he’s fine. He’s always been fine. And nothing has changed.

But things are different now in the emotional sense, and Amir can’t quite help it.

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Ajsjshhshshahgwgegsv this is my first time writing anything even remotely resembling a fic in so damn long… it’s more a stream of consciousness tbh… I think about cyphmen daily. So I hope yall at least kinda like it…

I plan on picking up writing again, I’ll def be posting more works here. I should also work on making a list of what fandoms and who within them I plan on/will write for.