#i realize this is niche content here

[sophsicle]

ovi being week 2 week is actually devastating 2 me

[asachuu]

Didn’t think I’d have anything much to post for the new year, but somehow, I ended up having a surprise planned hopefully on the day, or at worst, sometime in the first week of January, but I’ll do my best to get it finished and be able to post it at midnight Jan 1st, just for the sentimentality.

Stay tuned if you’d like. Honestly, if anyone is going to consider this a surprise, it’ll be mainly myself.

[cceana]

Arcane Highschool!AU

characters - vi, caitlyn, jinx, sevika, ekko, jayce and viktor content - 7.1k words, cliche highschool tropes, gn!reader, just pure fluff also a little reverse comfort

A/N this was so fun to do, cant believe i finished this in 1 day ahahahahhaah. this is my longest work yet so hopefully you guys enjoy it <3

— Star Athlete!vi and Band!reader

You’ve spent most of your high school life flying under the radar as the band’s flute player—quiet, responsible, and perfectly content in your niche. Your days revolve around early-morning rehearsals, sheet music, and the steady rhythm of practice. It’s predictable, comfortable.

That is, until the school’s star athlete, Vi, always in whispers and cheers, bursts into your life like an unrelenting storm.

Shes everything you’re not—loud, brash, impulsive, and dangerously confident. The type who winks at the crowd after scoring the winning goal, whose swagger fills the halls, and who’s constantly making headlines for their fiery outbursts on and off the field. You’ve heard the stories: the scuffle at last week’s game, the heated argument with the coach, the rumors of detention slips piling up.

You’d barely exchanged more than a few words with her, but that changes when the school decides to host a collaborative pep rally—complete with a showstopping performance featuring both the sports teams and the band.

When the coach volunteers them to help promote school spirit by playing a surprise number with the band, you’re horrified. So is she.

“I don’t have time for this,” she scoff when she gets dragged to the band room. “Why don’t you all just play louder or something?”

Your teacher assigns you the unenviable task of teaching them how to play an instrument. You can practically hear your friends giggling behind your back as you pull them aside, thrusting a trumpet into their hands.

Vi groans, slouching in her chair like a bored kid in detention. “What’s the point of this? Everyone’s here to watch me win, not play this stupid thing.”

You bristle at their cocky tone. “Well, if you don’t want to embarrass yourself in front of the entire school, I suggest you try.”

VI then gives you a smirk, leaning in just a little too close. “Oh, you think I can’t do it? I’m good at everything.”

It turns out, she's not.

The first few lessons are a disaster. She blow into the trumpet like she's trying to blow out a candle from across the room, their fingers fumble over the valves, and she keep snapping, “This thing is broken!” every time it makes a screeching noise.

But underneath all the bravado and eye-rolls, you start to notice something. The way she glares at the trumpet when she messes up isn’t just frustration—it’s determination. she hates failing, and she hates it even more that they’re bad at this.

“I’m not giving up,” Vi declares after her third failed attempt to hit a note. “I’m not letting some dumb piece of metal beat me.”

The more you work together, the more cracks appear in their tough exterior. she's fiercely competitive, yes, but also surprisingly quick to laugh at themselves when the trumpet sputters out the wrong notes. Her cocky grin softens when you praise even her smallest improvement, and she starts showing up to practice earlier than you do.

One afternoon, as you’re packing up your sheet music, you catch them staring at the band photo on the wall. “You guys practice this much all the time?” Vi asked, her voice uncharacteristically quiet.

“Yeah,” you say, surprised. “It’s a lot of work, but it’s worth it.”

she nod slowly, her usual swagger replaced by something contemplative. “Never thought about it like that. I guess… it’s kind of like training, huh?”

That’s when you realize she's not as invincible as she seem. Behind the hot-headed confidence is someone who works just as hard as you do, who’s just as passionate about what they love—even if they show it in a completely different way.

And when the pep rally finally arrives, with the gym packed to the rafters, she surprise's everyone—not just with how she learned to play, but with how she step aside during the performance to let the band take the spotlight.

Afterward, as the crowd cheers, she give you a lopsided grin. “Not bad, huh? Guess I’m pretty good at this whole teamwork thing.”

You roll your eyes, but you can’t hide your smile.

The pep rally is over, and the gym is buzzing with energy as people file out, still cheering and talking about the unexpected performance. You’re gathering your things in the corner of the stage when you hear footsteps behind you.

“Hey,” she calls out, her voice softer than you’re used to.

You turn to find her standing there, holding her trumpet in one hand, the other rubbing awkwardly at the back of her neck. For once, her usual cocky smirk is nowhere to be seen, replaced by an expression that’s… almost nervous.

“Uh, so… you were pretty great out there,” she says, her eyes flickering between yours and the floor. “I mean, you’re always great, but, like, today—you really killed it.”

You blink, caught off guard by the compliment. “Thanks. You were pretty great too. You didn’t even mess up the solo.”

She laughs, a warm, genuine sound that makes your chest flutter. “Yeah, well, I had a good teacher. Guess I owe you for that.”

You shrug, trying to play it cool. “Maybe. But you did the work. I’m impressed, actually. Didn’t think you’d take it so seriously.”

She steps a little closer, her usual confidence creeping back into her voice. “Yeah? So, I impressed you?”

Your face heats up, and you roll your eyes to hide it. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

“Too late,” she teases, but her grin softens as her gaze lingers on you. For a moment, neither of you says anything. The noise of the gym fades into the background, and all you can hear is the faint hum of your own heartbeat.

She looks down at the trumpet in her hand, turning it over like she’s stalling. “You know… I used to think band stuff was just… background noise. Like, nobody really notices it. But being up there, seeing how much you guys put into it…”

Her voice trails off, and when she looks back at you, there’s something in her eyes that makes it hard to breathe. “It made me notice you more.”

Your breath catches. “Me?”

“Yeah.” She takes another step closer, so close now that you can feel the warmth radiating off her. “You’re not just some quiet band geek who hangs out in the background. You’re… amazing. And I’ve been an idiot for not seeing it sooner.”

You open your mouth to reply, but the words get stuck in your throat. She’s staring at you like you’re the only person in the world, and for the first time, you don’t feel small or invisible. You feel seen.

“I know I’ve been kind of… impossible,” she continues, her voice dropping lower. “But I don’t want to screw this up. So if I asked you to, I don’t know, grab milkshakes or something sometime… what would you say?”

You bite your lip, trying to suppress a smile. “I’d say… as long as you don’t try to play the trumpet during the date, I might say yes.”

Her laugh is loud and bright, and before you know it, she’s grinning down at you. “Deal.”

The gym lights flicker as the janitor starts cleaning up, and you realize you’ve been standing there for what feels like forever. But as she walks you out, her shoulder brushing against yours, you can’t help but think that maybe this impulsive, hot-headed star athlete isn’t so bad after all.

— Childhood Bestfriend!caitlyn

You and Caitlyn were inseparable once, two halves of the same whole. Summers were spent running through sun-drenched fields, plotting grand adventures, and swearing eternal friendship under the stars. But that was years ago, before her family moved away to chase bigger opportunities, and you were left behind with only memories of her bright laugh and unshakable confidence.

Life moved on, and so did you. By high school, she’d become little more than a bittersweet memory. Until now.

When she walks into your homeroom on the first day of senior year, it feels like the air’s been knocked out of you. She’s taller now, with an effortless grace that makes the room go quiet. Her uniform looks somehow sharper on her, her long, dark hair falling in perfect waves. There’s something in the way she carries herself—poised and self-assured, like she owns the world—and maybe she does.

Her family name has become a symbol of power and wealth. She’s been in the headlines, her achievements as a youth advocate already earning her a reputation as a fierce voice for justice. And yet, when her gaze scans the room and lands on you, her face lights up with the same brilliant smile you remember from childhood.

“Hey,” she says as she slides into the empty seat beside you, her voice low and familiar. “Long time no see.”

You’re too stunned to do anything but nod.

You quickly learn that she’s not just here for nostalgia—she’s here with a purpose. Between rigorous AP classes, she’s working on a project to bring awareness to systemic issues in your town. Meetings, interviews, and late nights at the library seem to be her norm, and it doesn’t take long for her to rope you into helping.

At first, it feels surreal being around her again. The girl you once knew has grown into someone so driven, so ambitious, that it’s almost intimidating. She seems untouchable, like a shooting star too far away to reach.

But every now and then, the cracks in her polished armor show. When it’s just the two of you poring over notes at your kitchen table, she leans back with a sigh and pulls her hair into a ponytail, muttering about how she wishes she had more time to breathe. And when you laugh at her frustrations, she throws a crumpled piece of paper at you, her grin wide and mischievous.

“You haven’t changed a bit,” she says one evening, her eyes soft as they meet yours. “Still the only person who can make me laugh when I want to scream.”

It’s during one of these late-night sessions that the air between you shifts. You’re sitting on the floor of her family’s impossibly grand living room, surrounded by papers and laptops. She’s wearing a sweatshirt that’s too big for her, a far cry from the polished image she presents to the world, and you can’t help but think about how beautiful she looks like this—unguarded and real.

“You’ve been quiet tonight,” she says, tilting her head to look at you. “What’s on your mind?”

“Nothing,” you lie, your heart racing under her gaze.

She raises an eyebrow, leaning closer. “I’ve known you long enough to know when you’re lying.”

You hesitate, your pulse hammering in your ears. “It’s just… I can’t believe you’re here. That after all these years, we’re… us again.”

Her expression softens, and she shifts closer until your knees are almost touching. “I’ve missed you too, you know,” she says quietly. “It’s been so hard, being away from everything I used to care about. From you.”

Her words hang in the air, heavy and electric. You want to say something—anything—but the way she’s looking at you steals the breath from your lungs. Her dark eyes search yours, and for a moment, the world seems to still.

“Do you ever think about those nights we spent under the stars?” she asks, her voice barely above a whisper.

You nod, swallowing hard. “All the time.”

“I do too,” she admits, her hand reaching out to brush against yours. Her touch is warm, grounding, and yet it sends a jolt through you. “Back then, I always thought we’d have forever. And when I left, I realized how much I hated being wrong about that.”

You’re not sure who moves first, but suddenly the space between you disappears. Her hand lingers on yours, her thumb tracing gentle circles against your skin, and you’re acutely aware of how close her face is to yours.

“Tell me if this is okay,” she murmurs, her voice trembling just slightly.

You nod, barely able to speak. “It’s more than okay.”

And then her lips are on yours, soft and hesitant at first, like she’s afraid you’ll pull away. But you don’t. You lean into her, your hand sliding up to tangle in her hair, and the kiss deepens—sweet and full of years’ worth of unspoken feelings.

When you finally pull back, she rests her forehead against yours, a breathless smile on her lips. “I’ve waited so long to do that,” she says, her voice tinged with relief.

“Me too,” you whisper, your heart soaring.

As the night stretches on, you realize that the girl you thought you’d lost has come back into your life, not as the same person she once was, but as someone even more extraordinary. And for the first time in years, the future doesn’t feel so uncertain—it feels full of possibilities, with her by your side.

— New kid!jinx and Class president!reader

You’ve worked hard to get where you are. Every meeting attended, every speech prepared, every carefully crafted decision—it’s all been for the sake of keeping order in the chaos of your high school. As class president, your name carries weight. You’re the dependable one, the one who keeps everything running smoothly, the one who always has things under control.

Until Jinx shows up.

The whispers start on her first day. The new girl. The one who doesn’t seem to care about blending in. She strides into the building like she owns it, her uniform already disheveled, her blazer slung over her shoulder, and a wild grin on her face.

It doesn’t take long for her reputation to spread. She’s unpredictable, impulsive, and utterly magnetic. Within a week, she’s already broken half the school’s rules, talked her way out of three detentions, and somehow charmed half your classmates in the process.

And for some reason, she’s decided you’re her favorite target.

It happens during lunch. You’re sitting at your usual spot, surrounded by student council members, going over plans for the upcoming fundraiser when she walks up to your table.

“Class president,” she says, her voice dripping with mockery and something else you can’t quite place. “Mind if I join you?”

You glance up, already annoyed. “I’m busy.”

She smirks, pulling out a chair anyway. “That’s cute. You think I was asking.”

Your friends exchange uneasy glances, but she doesn’t seem to care. She leans back in the chair, her sharp pink eyes locked on you, as if she’s trying to unravel you with her gaze alone.

“You’ve got a real stick-up-your-ass vibe,” she says casually, plucking an apple from the tray in front of her. “I like that. It makes messing with you way more fun.”

You glare at her, trying to keep your composure. “Do you need something, or are you just here to waste my time?”

Her grin widens, and for a moment, you see a flicker of something wild and untamed in her expression. “Maybe I just like watching you squirm.”

She becomes a constant in your life after that. You find her waiting outside your classroom, lounging against your locker, or casually walking into student council meetings as if she belongs there.

“Do you ever stop?” you snap one afternoon, cornering her in the hallway after she’s disrupted yet another meeting.

“Stop what?” she asks innocently, tilting her head.

“Whatever game you’re playing.”

She steps closer, and for the first time, you notice just how intense her gaze is. “Who says it’s a game? Maybe I just like you.”

The words hang in the air, heavy and electric, and before you can respond, she turns on her heel and walks away, leaving you standing there, utterly baffled.

It’s not until much later that you start to see the cracks in her chaotic facade. One night, you find her sitting alone in the empty music room, the piano keys beneath her fingers. She’s not playing, just pressing random notes, her usual manic energy replaced by a quiet stillness.

“You shouldn’t be here,” you say, stepping into the room.

She doesn’t look up. “Neither should you.”

For a moment, neither of you speaks. Then she sighs, her shoulders slumping. “I bet you think I’m crazy.”

You hesitate, caught off guard by the vulnerability in her voice. “I think you’re reckless and impulsive and… exhausting. But no, I don’t think you’re crazy.”

She finally looks up at you, her eyes softer than you’ve ever seen them. “You’re too nice for your own good, you know that?”

“I’m not nice,” you counter. “I just… I think there’s more to you than the act you put on.”

Her lips twitch into a small, almost shy smile. “Careful, president. You keep saying things like that, and I might start to believe you.”

The more time you spend around her, the more you realize how deeply she feels everything. Her chaos isn’t just for show—it’s a shield, a way to keep people from getting too close. But with you, she starts to let her guard down.

One evening, she shows up outside your house, her hair messy and her eyes wild. “Come with me,” she says, grabbing your hand.

“Where are we going?” you ask, letting her drag you down the street.

“Anywhere,” she replies, her grip tight. “Everywhere. I don’t care.”

You end up at the park, sitting on a swingset as the stars blink overhead. She’s unusually quiet, her hands gripping the chains tightly as she stares at the ground.

“You ever feel like you’re spinning out of control?” she asks suddenly, her voice barely above a whisper.

You glance at her, surprised by the question. “Sometimes.”

She exhales shakily, her fingers brushing against yours. “You… you make it stop. Just for a little while.”

Your heart skips a beat, and you don’t know if it’s the raw honesty in her words or the way her fingers linger against yours, but you feel something shift between you.

It happens later that night, as you’re walking her home. She stops in front of her house, turning to face you with an unreadable expression.

“Why do you put up with me?” she asks suddenly, her voice soft.

You frown. “What do you mean?”

“I’m a mess,” she says, her gaze dropping to the ground. “I break things, I hurt people… I’m not like you. I’m not good.”

“You’re not perfect,” you admit, stepping closer. “But you’re not as bad as you think you are, either.”

She looks up at you, her eyes shining with something you can’t quite name. “You’re going to regret saying that.”

“Maybe,” you say with a small smile. “But I don’t think so.”

Before you can overthink it, you lean in, your lips brushing against hers. She freezes for a moment, like she’s caught off guard, but then she kisses you back, her hands clutching at your sleeves as if you’re the only solid thing in her world.

When you finally pull back, her face is flushed, and she’s breathing hard. “You’re insane,” she mutters, though there’s no heat in her words.

“Takes one to know one,” you reply, grinning.

She laughs, the sound light and genuine, and for the first time, you feel like you’ve truly seen her—every broken, beautiful piece of her.

—Troublemaker!sevika and Tutor!reader

You weren’t thrilled when your teacher assigned you as her tutor. You’d heard all the rumors: skipped classes, biting comebacks that left people reeling, and a permanent spot on the troublemaker watchlist.

Her reputation painted her as unteachable, untamable, and entirely uninterested in anything resembling authority. When your teacher insisted she “just needed guidance,” you couldn’t help but feel skeptical.

The first session confirmed it.

She slouched into the library ten minutes late, her bag dragging on the floor, and dropped into the chair across from you with a loud huff.

“Look,” she said before you could even greet her, “I don’t need some perfect little know-it-all telling me what to do.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “I’m just here to help.”

“Sure,” she scoffed, leaning back in her chair. “Let’s get this over with.”

Her tone was cutting, her expression bored, and yet… there was something about her. A quiet intensity lurking beneath the surface, like she was daring you to break through her tough exterior.

Each session felt like a test of patience. She was sharp, no question about it, but her attitude made every interaction a battle.

“You’re not even trying,” you said one afternoon after she tossed her pen aside for the third time.

Her eyes snapped to yours, hard and unyielding. “Don’t act like you know me,” she said coldly. “You think I don’t try? You think I don’t bust my ass every single day?”

You froze, startled by the edge in her voice.

She leaned forward, her gaze cutting through you like a blade. “I don’t need this. I don’t need you. I’m here because they told me to be.”

For a moment, you considered walking away. But then you saw it—just the faintest flicker of something vulnerable beneath her defiance.

“You’re right,” you said, keeping your voice calm. “I don’t know you. But I know you’re capable of more than this.”

Her jaw tightened, and she looked away, her fingers drumming on the table. “Whatever,” she muttered.

But she didn’t leave.

Slowly, things started to shift. She showed up on time—barely. She started taking notes—reluctantly. And every so often, she’d let her tough exterior slip, just enough for you to catch a glimpse of the real her.

One afternoon, after a particularly grueling session, you handed her a worksheet.

“You’re getting better,” you said, offering her a small smile.

She snorted. “Don’t get all sentimental on me.”

“I’m not. I’m just saying you’re improving.”

“Yeah, well, don’t hold your breath for a thank-you card,” she replied, but there was a hint of a smirk on her lips.

Her walls were still up, but they were starting to crack.

It happened on a rare quiet day in the library. She was hunched over her notebook, her brow furrowed as she worked through a particularly tricky problem.

“Got it,” she said suddenly, sitting up straight.

“Really?” you asked, leaning over to check her work.

She shoved the notebook toward you, her smirk firmly in place. “Told you I’m not dumb.”

“I never said you were dumb,” you replied, meeting her gaze. “You just make things harder than they need to be.”

She rolled her eyes. “Maybe I like a challenge.”

“Or maybe you’re just stubborn,” you teased.

Her smirk softened, just for a moment. “Takes one to know one, princess.”

Your heart skipped a beat at the way she said it, her voice low and almost… fond.

After weeks of late afternoons spent together, you found yourself walking her home one evening. The sun was setting, casting a warm orange glow over the quiet streets.

“You’re not as bad as I thought,” she said suddenly, breaking the silence.

You blinked, surprised. “Is that supposed to be a compliment?”

“Don’t push your luck,” she shot back, though her tone lacked its usual bite.

When you reached her house, she stopped at the gate, turning to face you. Her usual confidence wavered, just slightly.

“Why do you bother with me?” she asked, her voice quieter than usual.

“Because I see how hard you work,” you said honestly. “And because I think there’s more to you than what you let people see.”

She stared at you for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Then, without warning, she stepped closer, her hand brushing yours.

“You’re a real pain, you know that?” she murmured, her voice soft but firm.

Before you could respond, she leaned in, her lips capturing yours in a kiss that was as bold and unapologetic as she was.

When she pulled back, her cheeks were flushed, but her smirk was firmly in place.

“Don’t let it go to your head,” she said, turning toward her door.

You smiled, your heart racing. “Too late."

—Artist!ekko and Muse!reader

It was one of those golden autumn afternoons, the kind where the sunlight made everything look softer, warmer, like it belonged in a painting. You’d escaped to the park during your lunch break, clutching a well-worn book in one hand and a coffee in the other. It wasn’t the first time you’d come here for a little peace and quiet, but it felt like one of the rare times you’d actually get it.

You settled on a bench near the fountain, a cozy corner of the park where the only sounds were the gentle trickle of water and the rustling of leaves in the breeze.

The moment you opened your book, however, you felt it—a faint, almost electric sensation prickling at the edge of your awareness. Someone was watching you.

Glancing up, you spotted him.

He was sitting on the grass a few yards away, sketchpad balanced on his knees, pencil flying across the page. His hair fell messily across his forehead, and the sleeves of his shirt were rolled up to reveal forearms speckled with faint smears of paint. Despite the chaos of his appearance, his focus was absolute, his gaze darting between you and the paper as if you were some rare discovery he couldn’t afford to lose.

You furrowed your brow, unsure whether to feel flattered or alarmed. “Can I help you?” you called, your voice cutting through the quiet.

He blinked, as if snapping out of a trance, and stood quickly.

“Sorry,” he said, striding toward you. “I didn’t mean to freak you out.”

His voice was smooth, tinged with an earnestness that made it hard to stay annoyed.

“I’m an artist,” he explained, gesturing to his sketchpad. “I know this sounds weird, but you’ve got this… look. The way you’re sitting, the way the light hits you—it’s perfect.”

“Perfect?” you repeated, raising an eyebrow.

“For a piece I’m working on,” he clarified, a faint blush creeping up his neck. “Do you mind if I sketch you? Just for a little while.”

You hesitated, studying him. He didn’t look like a creep—just young, maybe a little unkempt, with an intensity in his eyes that was hard to ignore.

“I’m not really dressed for a portrait,” you said, gesturing to your casual sweater and jeans.

He smiled, and the way his face softened surprised you. “It’s not about the clothes. It’s the way you carry yourself.”

The compliment was unexpected, and it caught you off guard. “Alright,” you said slowly. “But just for a few minutes.”

“Great,” he said, dropping to the bench across from you with a grin that felt like the sun breaking through the clouds

It turned out he was a prodigy, a young artist with a growing reputation in the city. His work had been featured in galleries, and he’d even won a few prestigious awards. But for all his talent, he was surprisingly down-to-earth.

“I don’t really like the whole ‘genius’ label,” he admitted one afternoon after convincing you to pose for him again. “It just makes people think I’ve got everything figured out. But most of the time, I’m just trying to keep up with my own ideas.”

You quickly realized that his art wasn’t just a skill—it was his lifeline. He spoke about it the way others might talk about breathing. And for some reason, he’d decided that you were his muse.

“Why me?” you asked one day as he sketched you in his studio. The walls were covered with half-finished canvases, each one brimming with vivid colors and raw emotion.

He glanced up from his sketchbook, his eyes soft but focused. “You’ve got something about you,” he said simply. “A kind of… light. I can’t explain it, but when I see you, I want to create.”

His honesty was disarming. There was no pretense in his words, no calculated charm. He spoke as though his heart was an open book, and every word was written in your honor.

“Do you say that to all your muses?” you teased, trying to lighten the moment.

He chuckled, the sound low and warm. “I’ve never had one before you.”

As time went on, you got to know him beyond his talent. He was fiercely independent, refusing to rely on anyone for his success. His compassion, however, was what surprised you most. He spent his weekends teaching art classes at a local youth center, his eyes lighting up as he helped kids discover their own creativity.

“They’ve got so much potential,” he said once, his voice filled with quiet pride. “They just need someone to believe in them.”

It was clear that he poured himself into everything he did, whether it was a painting, a lesson, or simply spending time with you.

One evening, he invited you to his studio after hours. The space was dimly lit, the air thick with the scent of paint and turpentine.

“I want to show you something,” he said, guiding you to the center of the room where a large canvas stood covered by a cloth.

With a dramatic flourish, he pulled the cloth away, revealing a breathtaking painting. It was you—your pose, your expression, every detail captured with such tenderness that it felt like staring into a mirror of your soul.

“Is that… me?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

He nodded, his gaze steady. “It’s not just you,” he said softly. “It’s how I see you. Strong, radiant… inspiring.”

Your heart swelled at his words, and for a moment, you forgot how to breathe.

“It’s beautiful,” you said finally, your voice thick with emotion.

“So are you,” he replied, his lips curling into a small, genuine smile.

There was no grand confession, no dramatic moment where everything changed. Instead, your relationship grew in quiet, unspoken ways. The way he brought you coffee when you visited his studio. The way he asked for your opinion on his work, genuinely valuing your thoughts. The way his hand would brush against yours when he passed you a sketchbook, his touch lingering just a second too long.

One day, as you sat together in the park where you’d first met, he turned to you, his eyes filled with something you couldn’t quite name.

“You know,” he said, his voice low, “I’m not sure I’d be able to do this without you.”

“Do what?” you asked, tilting your head.

“Create,” he replied simply. “You make it… easier to believe in myself.”

You smiled, your heart fluttering at his honesty. “I think you’d do just fine on your own.”

“Maybe,” he said, his gaze never leaving yours. “But I don’t want to.”

—Bestfriend!jayce

The two of you had been inseparable for as long as you could remember. From elementary school to your final year of high school, your lives had been stitched together with countless shared moments—late-night study sessions, chaotic group projects, and lazy afternoons spent at the local diner. You were the grounded one, the planner, while he was the dreamer.

He was everything you admired in a person: ambitious, creative, and unrelentingly passionate about making the world a better place. Whether he was organizing a charity event for the school or advocating for a greener campus, he didn’t just talk about change—he embodied it.

“Alright, hear me out,” he said one afternoon as you sat in your favorite spot in the school library. His voice was alive with energy, his words spilling out faster than you could process them.

You glanced up from your notes, already bracing yourself. “This is going to be another one of your big ideas, isn’t it?”

“Of course,” he said with a grin. “It’s what I do best.”

He leaned forward, spreading out a sketchbook filled with colorful doodles and bold handwriting. Each page was a mix of blueprints, campaign slogans, and notes for an initiative he wanted to pitch to the student council.

“I’m telling you, if we can pull this off, it could really make a difference. We could partner with local businesses, raise money for community programs, and even involve the younger students—”

“You’re going a hundred miles an hour again,” you interrupted gently, a smile tugging at your lips.

“Not when I’m onto something good,” he replied without missing a beat.

That was him in a nutshell: a whirlwind of ideas and determination, always moving forward. It was both inspiring and exhausting to keep up with him, but somehow, you always did.

For all his big ideas and boundless enthusiasm, he had a softer side too—a side he reserved just for you.

One Friday night, he showed up outside your house, honking his car horn until you came outside in your pajamas.

“What are you doing?” you hissed, glancing around to make sure your neighbors weren’t watching.

“Get in,” he said with a grin, leaning out of the driver’s side window. “I need your opinion on something.”

“You’re insane,” you muttered, but you climbed into the passenger seat anyway.

He drove to a quiet hill on the outskirts of town, parking near an old tree you’d both claimed as “your spot” years ago. He pulled out a notebook from his bag and handed it to you.

“These are my ideas for the youth outreach program,” he said. “I need to know if I’m being too ambitious.”

You flipped through the pages, your heart warming as you saw the effort he’d poured into every word and sketch.

“This is incredible,” you said softly. “You’re not just ambitious—you’re inspiring. People are going to listen to you.”

He looked at you, his expression unreadable. “You really think so?”

“Always,” you said, your voice firm.

For a split second, you thought he might reach out to take your hand, but instead, he leaned back, staring up at the stars. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

After particularly grueling school days, he’d find you at your locker, holding out your favorite drink or snack without a word. When the stress of finals hit, he’d sit beside you in the library, quietly working through his own assignments while offering words of encouragement.

And then there were the moments when his usual confidence wavered.

“Do you think I’m crazy?” he asked one evening as you sat on the hood of his car, staring up at the stars.

The two of you had just spent hours planning his latest project, a school-wide fundraiser for a local shelter. Despite his ambitious plans, his voice was quieter now, almost hesitant.

“You? Crazy?” you teased, nudging him playfully. “Absolutely.”

He laughed softly, but the tension in his shoulders didn’t completely fade.

“Seriously, though,” he said, turning to you. “Sometimes I wonder if I’m aiming too high. Like, what if I can’t actually pull all this off? What if I fail?”

You reached out, placing a reassuring hand on his arm. “You won’t fail. You’re the most determined person I’ve ever met. And even if something doesn’t work out the way you planned, it doesn’t mean you failed. It just means you’re brave enough to try again.”

His gaze softened, and for a moment, the air between you felt heavier, charged with something unspoken.

“Thanks,” he said quietly. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

The moment lingered, and as he pulled back, his hands stayed on your shoulders. His gaze searched yours, and for the first time, you saw a vulnerability there that he usually kept hidden.

“I’ve been trying to figure out how to say this for a while now,” he began, his voice soft but steady.

Your breath caught. “What is it?”

“I don’t just care about you as a friend,” he admitted, his cheeks flushing slightly. “I mean, I do, but it’s more than that. You’ve always been my anchor, the one person who gets me, who believes in me even when I doubt myself.”

Your heart raced, the world narrowing down to just the two of you. “I think I’ve always felt the same way,” you said quietly.

Relief washed over his face, followed by a smile so genuine it made your chest ache.

“Then we’re in this together,” he said, reaching for your hand. “Like always.”

From that day on, your friendship transformed into something deeper, something stronger. His dreams grew bigger, but now, they weren’t just his—they were yours too. Together, you were unstoppable, a team bound by shared passion and a love that had been years in the making.

Whether it was planning for college or brainstorming ways to change the world, one thing was certain: with him by your side, anything felt possible.

—Enemies to lovers!viktor and reader

From the moment the new kid transferred to your school, it was as if the universe had dropped a puzzle piece into the wrong spot. He was a contradiction: introverted yet razor-sharp in class discussions, quiet but with an undercurrent of passion that seemed to burst through in unexpected moments. His snarky comebacks and aloof demeanor were practically tailor-made to clash with your confident, no-nonsense approach to everything.

You couldn’t help but notice how he kept his distance from everyone else, often retreating to the farthest corner of the library or lab. Despite his unassuming presence, he somehow managed to infuriate you with his brilliance. Teachers fawned over him, classmates whispered about him, and you? You glared daggers at him every time he raised his hand in class to counter one of your arguments.

The first real confrontation happened in science class. It was a group project, and your teacher, in a cruel twist of fate, paired you with him.

“Great,” you muttered under your breath.

He barely glanced at you as he set down his notebook, already flipping through its pages. “It’s not my favorite pairing either, but let’s just get this done.”

His tone was clipped, and his eyes barely met yours.

“Oh, so we’re starting with passive-aggressive remarks? Good to know where we stand,” you shot back, folding your arms.

He sighed, finally looking at you. “Look, I don’t care if you like me or not. I care about getting an A on this project. If you want to argue, fine, but at least do it while we’re running the experiment.”

His bluntness took you off guard, and for a moment, you were speechless. But you quickly recovered, rolling your eyes. “Fine. But don’t think for a second I’m letting you take over.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he muttered under his breath, already scribbling in his notebook.

Working together was like a storm brewing in slow motion. You were both stubborn and headstrong, constantly butting heads over the smallest details.

“Why are you doing it that way?” you snapped one afternoon as he adjusted the settings on the experiment’s apparatus.

“Because it’s the correct way,” he replied without looking up.

“You didn’t even let me explain my idea!”

“Your idea would’ve blown up the circuit.”

You narrowed your eyes. “You don’t know that.”

“Let me guess—you’re the kind of person who thinks trial and error is the only way to learn?”

He finally turned to face you, a faint smirk playing at his lips “And you’re the kind of person who thinks you’re always right,”

The tension crackled like static electricity, but neither of you backed down.

It wasn’t until a late-night study session in the empty library that things started to shift. The project deadline was looming, and you’d reluctantly agreed to meet outside of school to finish your work.

He was unusually quiet that night, his usual snark absent as he stared intently at the data on his laptop.

“Hey,” you said, breaking the silence. “You okay?”

He hesitated, his fingers pausing on the keyboard. “Just tired. And frustrated. I want this to be perfect.”

Something in his tone softened your usual defensiveness. “You know, it doesn’t have to be perfect. You’re allowed to mess up sometimes.”

He gave a faint, humorless laugh. “Not really. Not when people are counting on me.”

The vulnerability in his voice caught you off guard. For the first time, you saw past the walls he’d built around himself—the pressure he carried, the weight of expectations.

“I didn’t realize you were dealing with so much,” you said quietly.

He glanced at you, his expression unreadable. “Why would you? We’ve been too busy trying to outsmart each other.”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly. “Fair point. Maybe we should call a truce—for now.”

He smiled, just barely, and it was the first time you’d seen him let his guard down.

As the project progressed, the two of you started to find common ground. You discovered his love for science wasn’t just about theories and equations—it was about helping people.

“Why are you so passionate about this?” you asked one day as he carefully calibrated a piece of equipment.

He hesitated, then said, “Because I want to make a difference. I has a chronic illness, and I’ve spent years struggling with treatments that barely work. I want to change that for me, and for anyone else going through the same thing.”

His words hit you like a punch to the chest. You’d always thought of him as cold and detached, but now, you saw the fire that drove him.

“That’s… incredible,” you said softly.

He shrugged, his cheeks tinged with color. “It’s just what I care about. What about you? What drives you?”

You hesitated, caught off guard by the question. But as you opened up about your own dreams and ambitions, you realized something had shifted between you.

On the night before the project was due, you were sitting in his garage, putting the final touches on your presentation. It was late, and the two of you were running on caffeine and adrenaline.

“Here,” he said, handing you a mug of tea. “You’re going to burn out if you keep pushing yourself.”

“Look who’s talking,” you teased, taking the mug.

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the quiet hum of the garage filling the space.

“You’re not so bad, you know,” he said suddenly, his voice low.

You raised an eyebrow. “Is that your idea of a compliment?”

He smiled faintly, looking down at his hands. “I mean it. I’ve never met anyone who challenges me the way you do. It’s… refreshing.”

Your cheeks warmed, and you looked away, pretending to focus on the data. “Well, don’t get used to it. I’m not going easy on you just because you’re finally being nice.”

“Wouldn’t expect anything less,” he said, and there was a softness in his tone that made your heart race.

[venomhoundfanworks]

Hazbin Hotel - Lucifer Lactation Kink Headcanons

THIS WAS supposed to be part of a part 2 to the Lucifer Niche Kinks post. But not only did it get wayyyy too long; but I realized that I probably should add an educational section because people know nothing about breastfeeding. SO. I broke it off into its own thing.

The other Lucifer kink posts (and my other work) can be found on my masterlist >>HERE<<

Contents/WARNINGS: AFAB reader but gender neutral pronouns are used; all the kinky shit obviously; DISCUSSION OF PREGNANCY, BREASTFEEDING, AND CHILDREARING WEE WOO; honestly stay away from this one if you aint into having babies or that kind of talk; discussion of Lilith and Lucifer's past relationship; Im gonna drag Lucifer to therapy by his ankles (18+), MDNI, NSFW below the cut ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

Educational Section ₊˚ ‿︵୨୧

Im just going to throw all this breastfeeding info here in a big info dump so I can actually get into the headcanons and yall can know what Im talking about.

The first couple days after birth are critical for establishing proper milk production. Basically, even if the baby is perfect and drinks your milk (which is rare but thats not what we are talking about), you NEED to make sure your breasts are completely emptied of milk and stimulate them even past that.

This is super important because its what tells your body 'hey, make more milk for babay'

Im just gonna straight up say it: breast pumps fucking suck. Everyone complains about how uncomfortable they are, if they arent straight up painful; they are super inefficient at getting all the milk out of your breasts so they can easily leave you engorged or mess up your milk production; and some women cant even use them because they dont fit their boob shape properly or they cant relax enough when using them.

What do I mean when I say the lady cant relax enough? You have to be completely relaxed for the milk to come out. This is the biggest reason women have trouble breastfeeding. Well, that and the completely empty breasts thing messing up their milk production.

So what is the alternative? Hand expressing! Basically human milking; only not worded so bluntly/terribly. This is much better for milk production because it allows you to actually get all the milk out.

The problem is, its alot more work and time consuming then a pump. Not to mention you have to be taught the proper way to hand express. So if you dont have any of these resources, your pumping.

To make it even worse, alot of women cant relax enough when they try to hand express themselves, so they HAVE to have another person do it (most husbands are COWARDS and aren't willing to do it so, oops back to pump I guess). Or they are the opposite and have to do it themselves.

Fun fact: before pumps, women had to go to their fricken DOCTORS to have themselves milked because their own husbands wouldn't do it. Cause they COWARDS.

ANYWAY. Now that you got a background in how breastfeeding works, remember; breastfeeding is hard work actually and thank god for formula because so many babies would die without it.

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Actual Headcanons ₊˚ ‿︵୨୧

Its all so natural. Lucifer loves and adores every single change happening to your body during pregnancy. The stretch marks, the weight, watching his child grow inside you. Its all just... *mwuah* So perfect to him.

Lucifer gets so dreadfully giddy when your breasts begin to swell and grow heavy late into your pregnancy. He knows it means your so close to actually being a mommy.

Honestly the best husband you could possibly have. As soon as your baby is born, Lucifer is right there to help you with anything you could possibly need. Anything.

He knows how exhausted mentally and physically you are; so Lucifer offers to hand express your milk for you after feedings. Your body just went through so much, so just let him handle that!

This is when you first notice just how... bothered he gets. Lucifer almost seems to go into a trance. His half-lidded eyes glaze over while he pants through his open mouth.

He tries so hard to keep himself under control; but he cant help but let out tiny gasps, moans, or whimpers when he feels the life giving liquid seep between his fingers.

You cannot even begin to say how thankful you are for your husband's experience however. Its a load off your shoulders. Lucifer's hands and fingers skillfully work to encourage as much milk out of your breasts as he possibly can.

However, as soon as he is done, Lucifer has to quickly excuse himself; nearly running out the door hoping you didn't notice how fucking hard he is. Or that if you did, that he didn't gross you out at the very least.

After a couple days, once your home, rested up, and Lucifer has gotten your milk production expertly established; he will try to show you how to hand express yourself. But you quickly shut that down and tell Lucifer that you would prefer if he kept doing it for you.

Lucifer is a flustered mess at the proposition but cant really argue against it. Hand expression is much easier when another person does it, not to mention exponentially faster. Its also great bonding time for the two of you. Even if Lucifer enjoys the activity a little too much...

However, neither of you have the courage to address just how much he likes it.

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Lucifer was clingy and protective during your pregnancy. But now its amped up significantly. Since the baby was born, Lucifer has been attached to you at the hip; permanently at your beck and call. Always ready to help you in anyway you might need.

Lilith was much more... independent, to put it nicely. Their marriage was already on the rocks when Charlie was born. So Lilith was determined to do everything herself and often shooed Lucifer away when he tried to help.

The fact that your not only letting Lucifer help you with your child, but actively including him in everything? Lucifer didn't think it was possible to love you more then he did. He is not going to miss a second of the child's life you have blessed him with, and so graciously included him in.

But this quickly proves to be a double edged sword. Not only does Lucifer get to dote on you and your child, but Lucifer also gets a front row seat to you and your... maternal body. And God does it do things to him.

People talk about a 'pregnancy glow,' and yeah, you were gorgeous then. But if that was glowing, you are completely radiant now. Lucifer always feels in awe of you and your post-birth body. He loves tracing your stretch marks, with his eyes, fingers, and tongue.

He also loves the extra 'baby weight' you've kept. Its literally more of you to love. You've gotten embarrassed several times because Lucifer will grab at your thighs and lovehandles while telling you how "fucking hard" you make him.

Oddly enough, you haven't heard him comment on the changes in your breasts. Not once.

Thats because Lucifer feels so guilty. He feels so guilty every time he sees how full and swollen your gorgeous breasts are. He feels guilty when he sees them leaking after feedings. The milk soaking through the front of your bra and exposing your hardened nipples.

Lucifer feels guilty about how hard he gets. Every single time. His cock already twitching in his pants just from watching you. Lucifer always ends up having to excuse himself so he can rush off and jack himself off as quickly as possible.

He is so fucking embarrassed by it too. This is parenthood; having kids; having a family. Its all so natural. Especially breastfeeding.

So why is his body perverting it so much?? Lucifer already bred you; got you pregnant. Why is his body demanding even more now that you've had his child??

God, he can't think of any other time he has had to masturbate this much.

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It takes a couple months. Months of constantly vacillating between states of sexual torture and marital bliss for Lucifer. It takes a couple months before you decided to finally test the waters; testing how turned on your husband is really getting.

"Th-there. I-I think that's all of it..." Lucifer stuttered out absentmindedly. Although Lucifer said he had gotten all your milk out, his hands remained firmly grasping your breasts. You couldn't help but look at him with a quizzical tilt to your head. This was new.

Lucifer was always quick to excuse himself; practically running out the door. He was always so fast at fleeing, that he never saw how much you smirked and laughed at him. Its not like his hard on was subtle. Even if he wasn't literally moaning in your face.

This was new. Lucifer didn't run away this time. It was as if he was completely frozen while he straddled your lap in your shared bed. The only real movement from him was the rise and fall of his shoulders from how hard he was breathing.

Lucifer only finally pulls his hands away when you force him to; so you can gently set the bottles you had used to collect your milk onto the nightstand. When you turn back to look at your husband, he is in a complete trance.

Lucifer's head is hanging slightly in shame even as his eyes remain glued to your chest. Rough, but even huffs are steadily leaving his mouth; as if he lost control of his breathing and is trying to get it back. His hands are practically white knuckling at his own thighs; your a little worried in the back of your mind that his claws might rips through his pantleg.

"Lucifer?" Your gentle voice breaks Lucifer out of his daze. His half lidded eyes pull away from your hard, wet nipples to meet your eyes. "I don't think you actually got it all, Sweetie. Why don't you try using your mouth?"

Lucifer's eyes blow wide at the mere suggestion; his pupils dilating like a predator. You swear you hear him whimper. His whole body starts trembling as his eyes dart between your heated gaze and your leaking breast. Silently asking if it was really okay.

You simply smile at him, your hands softly trailing up his thigh and giving his hands a reassuring squeeze. Lucifer licks his lips in a mixture of nervousness and barely restrained lust as he brings shaky hands up to grip at your chest.

Then its as if something in Lucifer snaps; suddenly he is diving right in and latching himself onto you.

It happens so fast. Lucifer's whining, moaning mouth sucking and licking at you furiously. Trying to get every last sweet drop out of you that he can. Every drop of your milk that enters his mouth is like a shockwave of pure electricity up Lucifer's spine.

Even in his almost rabid state, Lucifer remains ever mindful of his teeth. You can't help but whimper every time you feel them graze your hard nipples.

All this while Lucifer's hips are rutting against you in a blind frenzy. You aren't even sure Lucifer is aware he is doing it; that he is practically trying to fuck your thigh into submission. Or if he is so pent up and focused on your tits, that his hips are now acting with a mind of their own.

Lucifer releases your breast from his mouth with a wet -pop- as he squeezes his eyes shut and cries out obscenely. You can feel how hard he cums; completely soaking through the front of his pants and dampening your own.

Lucifer collapses into you; completely limp. For a moment, you thought he might have passed out. But then you hear him humming happily while he nuzzles deeper in-between your breasts.

You gently hold him closer, one of your hands carding through his soft hair as Lucifer takes a moment to recover. You swear you hear him mindlessly babbling praises into your chest. Praises of how much of a "good mommy" you are.

Lucifer drags himself up to look at you with hazy, lovedrunk eyes; breathing heavily and wearing that dorky grin you love so much. Some of your milk had escaped his frenzy, dripping down his chin and smearing along his jaw.

"Do you, uh... Need me to do your other breast too...?"

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AN: If nothing else; I hope this teaches you something about the trials of breastfeeding. Women need more education on what happens to their bodies before, during, and after childbirth.

Don't be that reddit guy who thinks girls make milk whenever they are horny.

FURTHER READING ₊˚ ‿︵୨୧

Unfortunately, the OG poster deactivated. But you can find a archive of another Lucifer with a lactation kink post >>HERE<<

[being-kindrad]

Interest in a dedicated feminist online forum community?

What are women's thoughts here on an online feminist community, a forum (like phpBB for example), for discussions? Would enough women would be interested in this? Forum software has decreased in popularity, but is still used for niche subjects/communities. (Some real life examples: https://www.reef2reef.com/ and https://www.gardenstew.com/) I'm mildly interested in trying to set up forum software as a technical learning experience, but only if there would actually be interest in using it (because it would cost me money to buy a domain name and web hosting).

It seems like there are so little dedicated spaces for feminist women on the internet. Most feminist communities seem to be libfem, and/or plainly taken over by men (if they purport TWAW, then they definitely are taken over by men). Tumblr has a radfem community, but it's still part of a larger social media system which involves many TRAs (some of which harass radfems), and men, porn bots, etc. Ovarit is useful for consciousness raising, but it seems to me like the Overton window has been shifting towards more conservative takes than feminist ones, especially in how there appears to be more anti-trans takes on there than actual gender critical feminist ones, which kind of makes me bored of it. And so again, radfems are then stuck in a larger community, this one of conservative/non-feminist women, who are there because they dislike trans people and appear to have found a space where they can safely make fun of them and not actually to discuss gender critical content (the recent realization that I even need to be defending common feminist stances like women's right to abortion on Ovarit has been demoralizing). I basically want to make a place where feminist women can just take a break and not have to constantly be building up from ground zero, defending against TRA insults, arguing against conservative/right-wing rhetoric, and instead maybe discussing feminist topics or just chilling in some hobby forum sections or something, idk.

I was initially going to call it a "radfem community" but I see no reason for the community to not include women who identify more with other branches of feminism like gender critical feminism, black feminism, lesbian feminism, eco feminism, socialist feminism, intersectional feminism (I mean the original definition of intersectional, not "tumblrized intersectionality"), etc.

I think there would need to be some "gatekeeping" involved so that it doesn't end up filling up with neoliberal feminists ["choice feminism"] or "prolife feminists" [an oxymoron], so that would need to be figured out. This community would not be meant to be a place for feminists to have to hand-hold people and slowly explain over and over how gender is sexist, or how porn is misogyny, or how abortion is a part of women's healthcare and bodily autonomy. This place would be meant to be a solace from that. Imagine trying to participate in a Calculus class where people who haven't even taken algebra are constantly joining the class and asking "why the fuck are there letters with numbers in math now?!" The class would barely, if at all, progress. Likewise, this community would be for feminist women to have an agreed upon basis for basic feminist stances, and move forward with deeper analysis. There are plenty of other online communities for women who are new to (non-lib)feminism to learn about how "but I like wearing makeup, it's art" isn't a feminist stance. We don't need to keep spending finite energy hashing this out, we need to be able to move forward.

My basic thoughts so far:

It would be women-only. (But there would be no vetting that would involve requiring to share personal information, it would just be an honor system.)

I think there must be some basic feminist stances that members need to agree on, otherwise the community might as well just be a part of any mainstream social media platform. I would assume a decent starting point would be: gender critical, pro-choice, anti-prostitution, anti-pornography, anti-surrogacy, anti-beauty culture?

Some category ideas I have so far: feminism (with maybe different sections for the branches of feminism, and sections for discussing feminist books/websites/documentaries); politics (with sections for discussing or sharing news about feminist political topics like reproductive rights [for abortion, birth control, bodily autonomy], gender critical, surrogacy, prostitution, etc.; spirituality (for those who are into Wicca, or other spiritual beliefs); casual (for general chat, hobbies, music, arts, etc.)

So yeah, what are women's thoughts on here about this?

Would this type of community interest you?

What would you want to see in it?

What would you not want to see in it?

Has this been done before and I am just oblivious? (I tried searching for "feminist forum," but nothing relevant seem to come up.)

Am I naive and this is not going to work?

Please let me know! I welcome any opinions. Thank you. 💜

[purpledemonlilyposting]

I can get not watching something because it is triggering, but if something was triggering to you.. why would you still read the transcripts and plot summaries? Why would you still talk about the show?

Lily apparently has to grouse about children's cartoons she doesn't like to "pay rent". Here she is complaining that her passion projects don't get any views:

That's probably because you're uninteresting, unengaging, say nothing of value and just read off an unedited first draft of a script you wrote with no outline, Lily. Someone talented and intelligent enough could make any topic interesting.

And she really doesn't understand YouTube. The Korra video that gave her a big boost was released at the HEIGHT of shitting on Korra online. People just wanted to hear vitriol about it.

The Steven Universe that gave her a big boost was released at the HEIGHT of shitting on Steven Universe online. People just wanted to hear vitriol about it.

The Andy and Leyley and Hazbin videos did pretty well because she released them when they were hot topics. Nobody gives a fuck about niche topics like a bland anime from 2018 or an old CRPG unless you're capable of making it interesting to them.

Lily's problem is thinking she's the main draw of her channel, and anything she talks about will be instantly interesting cause she's her and she's great. She also seems to lack of the concept of mind to realize other people aren't into or haven't even heard of the stuff she's into.

The Korra video she's struggling to get through content ID is probably going to flop as hard as any of her other recent uploads. Who the hell is talking about Korra or even ATLA at the moment?

You're not someone like Savage Books who routinely uses ATLA as a framework for writing advice, Lily. I don't know what you think this is going to do for you.

She makes dismal numbers for a channel with her subscriber count. Meaning most of those are probably dead subs from people who don't watch her anymore.

If you're struggling to pay rent with only YouTube, get a part time job.

[ririsdelusionalcorner]

Idia with a cosplayer SO

How did it start (Idia):

○We all know how invested Idia is when it comes to the series he enjoys so it would only be natural that he followed accounts that post content for those series.

○He most likely found his future SO account due to this fact. They were cosplaying a more niche series that he had been hyperfocused on so he had never hit the follow button faster.

○This would have spiraled into him becoming one of their biggest supporters. Always interacting with posts, sending anonymous messages, going to fan meets mostly digitally but sometimes in person when he was brave enough

○I would say he'd even have either drawn fanart for them, or made some type of merch, we'll say a Keychain in this case to give to them during the one time he was brave enough to go to a fan meeting in person.

How did it evolve:

○Imagine Idia's shock finding out his favorite cosplayer was attending NRC and is in the same dorm as him. When he's the Housewarden!

○Idia almost thought it was his eyes tricking him but the sight of a familiar Keychain used as a phone charm made him realize it was real.

○Was Idia going to approach them? Absolutely not, but to his horror delight they ended up joining the board gaming club.

○Things were made worse when they recognized him. How is someone supposed to react when their favorite cosplayer remembers them. Idia almost short circuited that's for sure.

○Idia didn't pursue a friendship with them but they pursued one with him.

○Idia almost thought he was living in a dating Sim at this point. And he was the capture target. His future SO was relentless. Always going to his dorm, dragging him out when they weren't busy with class, building a friendship with Ortho, working on their cosplans in his dorm, listening when he talked about his interests/sharing their own. Anything and everything they could do they did.

○And eventually one day they approached him with a request. They wanted him to cosplay with them for their next event....that is cosplay a couple. To say Idia.exe stopped working was an understatement. He tried to cover his embarrassment by jokingly asking if they were asking him out and he got a serious yes. He almost fainted on the spot but managed to agree.

As a couple:

○From then on it wasn't just his SO who was a famous cosplayer he became one himself to his horror. Their fans were now his fans and he just had to suck it up and accept his fate.

○Couples cosplays are a must! But only from series they both genuinely like. He'll be super embarrassed if you're going to cons in cosplay together but He'll suck it up for you. For private photoshoots he's a little more comfortable but is still embarrassed when his SO posts them.

○His dorm wasn't just his own anymore. It was shared with his SO. You could clearly see they practically lived there.

○Cute gaming sessions, and by that I mean him gaming and his SO working on a project and commentating.

○Friday movie nights are a must. If he doesn't get time to just sit with his SO in his arms binge watching series he'll combust

○Designated bag holder Idia is real. He's the bf walking around the con with all of his SO stuff and he doesn't complain one bit. Why would he when his partner is cosplaying one of his favs and looks so genuinely happy to be interacting with fans

○Idia takes the best photos btw. Both in cosplay and out of cosplay he's always prepared. He'll use drones, go out of his way to get the best angles and even edit the photos himself If his SO asks. He's their number 1 supporter

○Idia will fight to pay for things. Need fabric? You know his card information. At a con and see some merch you want? Here's his card grab anything you want, and actually get multiple of some of the keychains or pins so he could match with you. Basically if you want something you'll get it. He has the money to spare and it's more meaningful if he spends it on you.

○He's a pro at making props. With his technical skills he's making props that actually do the same things that they do in their individual series

○He's very interested in the creation of cosplays as a whole but cannot sew whatsoever so he sticks to what he knows and just enjoys watching his SO work.

Notes from Riri:

You will never have a more supportive Bf than Idia istg. Sorry if this isn't like an actual fic I just wanted to get this out of my head. But lmk if you like content like this and my asks are always open! I'm not a pro at writing but hey I'm here to be delusional so that's what I'll be

[infiniteanalemma]

Nobility in Baldur's Gate

Edited to add: I never expected my silly, niche post to get as much attention as it has! I'm giving you all forehead smooches! 😚💋 I've gone through to clean up some things up as I've found new information. I also added a list of nobility that I've found in game and other sources to the end of the post. Thanks, y'all! I'm glad I'm not the only one to wonder about this stuff. Good stuff in the reblogs, too!

Baldur's Gate has dug itself deep in my brain, so I apologize to my poor mutuals who didn't follow me for BG3 content getting this onslaught of posts. Please bear with me until my hyperfixation wears off. 🙏

Now, I'll admit up front that I'm no expert in DnD lore*, so if I get things wrong, please feel free to correct me or just add in stuff I may have missed. I'm going off of what I've found in-game and my Google Fu skills.

That said, I do know enough about DnD to remember that Baldur's Gate nobility are called patriars, and that there are only a relative handful of actual patriar families. I was thinking about my "canon" Tav, Velassa, and her background in BG3. She's a modified OC that I plunked in-game during Early Access, so I made her a noble. It was just part of her existing character that I didn't think too deeply about. It was only after I starting playing that it occurred to me to wonder what exactly "a noble" is to a native Baldurian.

That got me digging a little more into the current state of the Baldurian nobility as of BG3. I don't know who--if anyone--needs or wants this, but I put this together for myself and decided to share it for anyone else who might be interested. I realize that this is probably pretty niche and it's rambly and long af, so I'll put it under a cut.

So, for starters, here's a list of all the patriar families, including "fallen" houses that are barely hanging on: Belt, Bormul, Caldwell, Dlusker, Durinbold, Eltan, Eomane, Exeltis, Gist, Guthmere, Hhune, Hlath, Hullhollyn, Irlentree, Jannath, Jhasso, Linnacker, Miyar, Nurthammas, Oathoon, Oberon, Portyr, Provoss, Ravenshade, Rillyn, Sashenstar, Shattershield, Silvershield, Tillerturn, Vammas, Vannath, Vanthampur, and Whitburn

From what I've gathered, Exeltis, Provoss and Ravenshade are all more-or-less destitute. Also, the Szarr family (Cazador's family) were patriars, but were believed to be entirely wiped out. No living descendants makes them a dead house, rather literally. 😏 (No, I'm not sorry.)

Now, we learn that Wyll's father is Ulder Ravengard, the Grand Duke. This brings us to the first point: There are four Dukes, known as the Council of Four, and the Grand Duke's job is to be the tie-breaker.

Traditionally, one of the Dukes is also the highest ranked officer of the Flaming Fist--that's Ravengard, who was a Fist promoted up through the ranks. Wyll tells us that his father was born lower class, and quite a few of the patriars seem to scorn him for that. The other Dukes are Belynne Stelmane, Dillard Portyr (more on him later) and Thalamra Vanthampur (more on her later, too). Of the four, two are patriars: Portyr and Vanthampur. We don't know much about Stelmane's past, except that she was a brilliant businesswoman, politician and--as we find out later--member of the Knights of the Shield. Apparently, you can't buy your way into the patriars, but maybe you can buy your way into being a Duke.

Skipping ahead a bit, when the player shows up to Gortash's coronation, there are a group of mostly patriars sitting in the boxes leading up to the front of the room. I'm listing them by seating arrangement, with box 1 and 2 being the left and right closest to Gortash, and 3 and 4 being farthest. (I don't know what, if anything, the seating arrangements imply. The second box has eight people, compared to four for all the rest.)

Lady Ailis Belt, Baron Callem Bormul, Lord Rugger Shattershield**, and Lady Alia Durinbold**

Lady Ruth Linnacker, Lord Sarken Eomane, Lady Freida Oberon, Lord Raylen Jannath, Lord Myer Ravenshade**, Lady Madeline Whitburn, Lady Beatrice Provoss, and Duke Dillard Portyr

Lady Winstra Hullhollyn, Admiral Peil Hullhollyn, Lord Randolph Vammas, and Lady Eshvelt Guthmere

Lord Milon Tillerturn, Lady Silifrey Sashenstar, Lord Petric Amber**, and Lady Haeril Birch**

Here's some pictures of the nobles sitting together. (Sorry for the terrible quality! I slapped it together for my own reference. 🙈)

The characters marked by ** aren't human, which is interesting because the information I found said all the patriar familes are human except the Shattershields. Myer Ravenshade is listed as human if you examine him, but he has a dwarf model. That might be a mistake, but I'm including him anyway. Alia Durinbold, from a presumably human patriar family, is a wood elf. Again, this could be a mistake, but unless Larian winds up changing it, it could mean that interracial marriages that once may have been looked down on are now becoming more acceptable. Petric Amber is also a wood elf, and Haeril Birch is a high elf.

Those last two are interesting because they are the only ones in the boxes who aren't patriars. If not for them, I'd have assumed the coronation was simply a demonstration for the patriars alone. Their inclusion means this is something else.

Digging around, my conclusion is that all the listed people are members of the Parliament of Peers--a 50 person advisory party to the Council of Four. However, what I found says that it's pretty rare for all 50 to attend meetings, and the usual group is between 20-30. There are exactly 20 named individuals listed, plus a group of unnamed "patriars" standing at the front.

Here they are, for what it's worth:

One thing I noticed here is that most of those listed here are Lord/Lady, but there are three other titles: Duke, Baron and Admiral. I've already talked about the Dukes. Looking into the patriars, the Hullhollyn family are notable for having a fleet of ships, so it makes sense that one of them would be an Admiral. That leaves the Baron.

I couldn't find anything about what it means to be a baron in Baldur's Gate. Going on real-world peerages, a baron/ess is generally the lowest "rank" of nobility. Basically, it's someone who was an official landowner (usually of an "important" bit of land) under the feudal system. Well and good, I suppose, but presumably all the Lords and Ladies of the patriars own land within the city. This particular Baron is also a patriar, but given that one doesn't need to be a patriar to become a Duke (normally a higher peer than a baron), that may not mean anything.

(Apparently, the term "Duke" was originally meant somewhat jokingly. That said, it still carries the weight of a title even if not the conventional one.) We don't see any other titles between Duke and Baron, so what does that mean?

This isn't canon, but my assumption is that it means the Baron owns important land outside of the city. This would make sense for Baron Bormul, given that the Bormul family apparently have investments in silver mines and vineyards. Assuming they own the mines/vineyards, that may make those lands "important" enough to the city for their owner to earn a title. Alternately, the Bormul family also has counterparts in Amn, so maybe baron is an Amnian title that got passed along. That's getting a bit far afield for me, though. 🤷‍♀️

Anyway, among the group at the coronation, pretty much everyone supports Gortash becoming Archduke, with the exception of Lady Sashenstar (an old woman who really isn't too impressed with this commoner) and Duke Portyr, who expresses some hesitation at the whole thing.

Duke Portyr is interesting here. Except for Ravengard (who is thralled and conducting the ceremony), Portyr is the only Duke present. Now, Stelmane is already dead, so that explains her absence. Vanthampur is also missing, which is interesting. Portyr first, though: he was Grand Duke before Ravengard. He's the one who re-instituted (Edited: and originally created!) the Parliament of Peers to make the day-to-day decisions of running the city, and ceded the title of Grand Duke to Ravengard. He's described as being conflict-averse, so it makes sense that he'd go along with Gortash's coronation, even though he's clearly unhappy about it. Also, the current leader of the Fists is also a Portyr, likely still Liara Portyr, the Duke's niece and Ravengard's second-in-command.

Thalamra Vanthampur is an interesting character, too. She's the head of the Vanthampur family, and part of the Descent into Avernus story. Apparently, she's the one who got Ravengard to go to Elturel before it sank to the Hells, intending to take his place as Grand Duke. From what I read, she also conspired with the Dead Three's cults to murder people in a bid to discredit the Flaming Fist. (The murdery bits were undoubtedly left to Bhaal's cult.) We never do find out anything about Thalamra Vanthampur in this game (I assume that's probably cut content). (Edited: She is mentioned in one of the in-game texts as having been killed, which was one of the possible outcomes of Descent into Avernus. Larian chose that as their canon, just like the fate of Elturel and Zariel.)

The only Vanthampur we do meet is Carnelia Vanthampur, who is in the Guildhall and describes herself as "a peer of the Parliament". She's willing to work with either the Guild or the Zhentarim. Nervously of course. Also interesting is that, on the Bloodstained Parchment hit list, is a Varri Vanthampur, whose gravestone you can find in Candulhallow's Tombstones shop, reading: "Varri Vanthampur. Unwanted in life, welcomed in death."

Interesting, hm?

Also on that hit list is Fridrik Hhune. The Hhunes apparently have links to the Knights of the Shield, from what I looked up--the same group the Emperor led with Stelmane. The only Hhunes we meet in-game are Blaise and Gheris Hhune, two of the werewolves in Cazador's ballroom who are brothers according to the dev notes. With them is another werewolf of a different patriar family, Duver Rillyn. This suggests Cazador has been going after members of patriar families, which sort of fits with what we know about his plans. We really don't find anything else out about them except that they consider Cazador to be their master and Astarion says they're new.

We also can talk to a Flaming Fist who mentions that Hurlbut Hhune is the father of Henrietta Hhune, who used to be secretly engaged to the Fist in question, only for her father to decide to arrange her to marry fellow patriar Derque Rillyn, who the Fist describes as "a major arsehole."

That conversation is interesting for a few reasons. For one, it tells you that arranged marriages within the patriar are a thing. Also, this Fist is a Manip (essentially a Sergeant) who can't ask the other Fists for help because "the Fists don't mess with wealthy patriars, they've got the Watch to back them up." That's aligned with what Devella can also tell you: "There are patriars on the murder target list. I'm oathbound to secure them first, so I'll be heading to the Upper City next." If you say that the Fist should protect everyone: "Not from around here, are you? We're in Baldur's Gate - this is just how things work."

This brings me back to my original issue: what is a Baldurian noble? The patriars are canonically nobles, of course, and they're undoubtedly seen as the "most important" of the nobility. From there, it's not much of a stretch to say that anyone who has earned the title of Duke is now a noble, even if they aren't patriars. I'd go so far as to say anyone on the Parliament of Peers (and their family by association) is a noble^, given that non-patriars Petric Amber and Haeril Birch are considered Lord and Lady. The information I found about that is that there are approximately twelve non-patriar members. If Amber and Birch are two of them, that leaves another unnamed 10.

^Edited: Looking at the dates, I realized that the Parliament of Peers is a very recent change to Baldurian governance. Duke Portyr originally created it after the three other Dukes on the Council of Four were assassinated. It was clearly meant as a temporary measure, but my guess is that the patriars liked having more official say. Not to mention the non-patriars who managed to get a seat. This has all happened within even the youngest of Tav/Urges' lifetimes.

Personally, I'd also assume that branch families of the patriars probably also count as nobility. By branch family, I mean those that marry out of the main line but whose ancestry stems from a patriar family. From what I've seen by naming conventions, Baldur's Gate seems to use patronmyic lineage--ancestry is generally passed to the sons, and wives take their husband's surname. So, if a daughter marries out of the family, she'd no longer be a part of her father's family lineage, but still would be considered nobility. These branch families likely still maintain powerful influence and connections from marrying into wealth, which would make them a good political/financial choice of marriage alliance, despite no longer having the main branch patriar family name. These families are also probably the ones most likely to find a place on the Parliament, too, but likely have to jockey for position if their "representative" dies (or otherwise leaves) and a new opening in the Parliament is created.

If you've read this far, as a treat you can have some crappy close-up portraits of the nobles at Gortash's coronation, grouped together in their respective boxes. 😚

* For what it's worth, I'd count myself as a casual DnD player. I have some knowledge of DnD--I've played BG1 and 2, Planescape: Torment, along with some general cultural osmosis. I've had friends who played the tabletop version, but for one reason or another, I've never played it myself.

[theyluvlyss]

𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲, 𝐈 𝐰𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐲𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟...

but when I read it after finishing it, I realized it was too cute not to post, so now, here I am to bless your feed with this short lil' blurb that I love so much.

and I say bless, because I figure, if I love it this much, so will others, maybe🤷🏽‍♀️. Especially my melanated sistas, like, this is quite literally for y'all🩷💋🫵🏽. You're welcome.

𝐜𝐮𝐭𝐞 <𝟑

《 ♡ 》 imagine (a little bit crack-fic-ish but that's okay)

  ───────── 《 .°•♡•°. 》 ──────────

𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭 :

nothing much, really. just billy loving you so much, and he thinks you're cute and all😙.

𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 :

fem!black-codedasf!reader x loveydovey!billy batson

𝐓𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐦𝐞 :

post shazam!: fury of the gods

𝐓𝐖/𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 :

(joking/exaggerative) mentions of suffocating - light cursing, I think? I didn't check lol - that's about it fr, like, this is super duper lovey dovey huggy wuggy kissy wissy wishy washy🥰😻💋💞 - billy being literally obsessed with you (as he should, love a women worshipping king😻) - that's it, I'm pretty sure lol.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ...𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

  ───────── 《 .°•♡•°. 》 ──────────

You laid content as you scrolled through the contents of your open TikTok app, savoring in the warmth Billy's body generated while lying comfortably beside you. Hell - he was practically smushed up against you, with no real need to be given it was a plenty sizeable bed you shared, other than the fact that he just couldn't stand to be sharing the same mattress and not be cuddling into you.

Of course, you didn't mind this one bit. As previously mentioned, the Batson boy generated heat at a rate you couldn't be anymore grateful for, yourself always freezing to the touch for seemingly no reason. Plus, you found it endearing how close he constantly wanted to be. As though he were a clingy kitten, seemingly always depraved of your love and affection. And, thankfully, you had plenty of it to go around.

Especially seeing as some of your love went towards memes and all sorts of other funny videos on the internet. Like this next one you giggled at. It held no true meaning, simply a combination of the most recently trending things, all too niche for any newcomer to understand. But you did, being an "chronically online" teenage girl coming with its apparent perks as you let more giggles escape through your grinning teeth.

But, as per the norm, they never remained just quiet giggles. They soon escalated into something further, a fit that could no longer be contained no matter how hard you tried. Plus, with the video looping itself over and over again, you never had the chance to give yourself a break to breathe. You couldn't look away, god, it was just too funny…!

Soon, you were inevitably trying your damndest not to let out obnoxious cackles. You'd feel awful for waking your boyfriend over something as trivial as laughing too loud. But unfortunately, it proved too late for that, the stuttering of your chest being all it took before he was stirring and suddenly-

"So- S… sssss…"

In a horrid attempt at an apology, you ended up mimicking the sound of a snake, eventually pushing out the word "sorry" before exploding into more laughter. At first, Billy was not amused, staring at you through sleepy, low-lidded eyes and with a pout that you'd normally just kiss away if you weren't so busy acting like a loon.

"Why are you even still up…" He barely questioned, his voice a deep rasp as a result of his previous heavy slumber. As if you weren't already a mess, you felt a feather in your chest and stomach at the sound of his sleepy voice. It tickled you, and the video was still playing, and good lord, there was no way you were laughing this hard at what was essentially nonsense.

But you were! And it was so… so… so...

"I-...I-..."

Poor thing, you thought you were going to suffocate, blowing up into another round of giggles. Your eyes were growing misty, and you were fighting so hard to replace your laughter with air, oxygen into your lungs. You couldn't do it, and it occurred to you that you probably looked insane right now with your eyes screwed shut (leaking salty water, at that) and your mouth hanging open with no sound coming out...

You laughed harder at the mental image, if possible.

"(Y/N), dude…" Billy spoke, his tone flat and his stare hard. You couldn't take it, shoving your face into the nearest pillow as you kicked your legs and shook around in silent laughter. You were actually physically fighting to stop and were losing! You were losing badly, stretching out your hand for any source of grounding.

"Will you chill out, oh my god." Billy, once again, hardly asked. But this time, it was through his own curt chuckle, slowly growing entertained by his girlfriend's silliness before loosely allowing his hand to fall into your own. You grabbed it, and finally, you could breathe again. A smile remained stuck on his face. A tired one, of course, but one could also argue that it was in love sickness. He watched your chest heave up and down, waiting until you removed the pillow from your face.

And when you did, he almost wanted to argue that you could, in fact, blush. Because your face was most definitely, visibly a deepened shade right now as you wiped the tears and massaged your sore cheeks. But he'd leave it alone, for now.

"I'm sorry." You spoke plainly after a moment of silence, gathering yourself. "That was deadass just the funniest shit I've ever seen, I don't know what's wrong with me."

Billy's smile grew, staring down at you while laying on his side, listening to your cheery-filled voice explain what on earth was so funny about this video that you nearly asphyxiated yourself cackling at. You laid against the bicep of his arm, curls tickling his skin because you'd more than likely forgotten to put a bonnet on for the evening.

He wouldn't remind you, though. Just for tonight, because he liked the tickle-feeling and the way they framed your face and expanded gorgeously around your head. Like a powerful mane or maybe a halo. He traced the detail in the browns of your eyes and had to stop himself from running a thumb over your brows. And just from the previous events alone, he was sure you had licked away all of your chapstick and gloss, staring at your lips before meeting your eyes once again upon listening to the cadence in your voice dip into a questioning tone.

"Did you see?" You asked, and he nodded.

"Yeah, babe."

Hardly a hum, yet full of adoration. Not that it mattered, because almost as fast as it was put there, your laughing expression had morphed into a playful one of disbelief. An added click of the tongue for full affect.

"Mncht. No, you didn't; you're not even looking…"

There was about a four second pause, Billy finally giving into the urge to run his thumb over your brow, tracing it down your cheek… prodding at the dimple that may/could reside there before running it as lightly as a feather over your lips. You paid no mind one way or the other to his actions, used to them by this point in time. Used to being cherished and observed with such worship and grace, even though it still made you slip into a mild hot flash.

"You're so cute."

Your eyes gazed up into his green ones, finally giving him your attention at such a sudden yet fond statement. At first, you almost let the words, "I know." slip. But then, you figured you might as well just say thank you and urge him back to bed. After all, you had never meant to wake him in the first place, and the guilt of that was finally starting to set in.

And yet…

"You think I'm cute?"

Billy, if he didn't know any better, allowed his heart to melt right there. Your eyes were big and expecting, curious about his thoughts even though he had just let them loose. And your tone full of hope, as if he'd never told you such a thing before. That might as well be blasphemy for him, seeing as he made it appoint to remind you of the way you had basically consumed his thoughts every single day.

And he'd continue to do so over and over and over again until you got it through your head that he was one-hundred percent serious. That he meant it with all of his heart.

"Think." He repeated the word you had murmured with a tone of hilarity. "I know you're cute, I'm lookin' right at you~."

He spoke with a shameless flirt in his drowsy tone, watching as you smiled to yourself. This time, you had no wit to banter up or a cheeky way of saying "I know" to him. All you had was your giddiness, only to then offer up the purse of your lips innocently until Billy got the hint.

"Gimmie kiss~…" He spoke, even though he was the one to deliver such upon your lips. But it didn't really matter because a few pecks later, you were drunk off of them and selfishly demanding more until he had literally kissed you to sleep.

"...Cute."

𝐚𝐥𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭, 𝐈 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐈'𝐥𝐥 𝐠𝐨 𝐜𝐫𝐲 𝐧𝐨𝐰🥲.

i've got to stop letting my own words hurt me like this lmaoo😭. I hope y'all enjoyed ! more on the way soon✨️🤞🏽.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ...𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ...𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭

𝐑𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐁𝐲 :

myself <3

𝐒𝐡𝐚𝐳𝐚𝐦 𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 :

none :(

[adragonsfriend]

Ways to Write a Meaningful AO3 Comment…

…or frankly, a comment on any writing or artwork where your primary goal is to encourage and appreciate the creator.

It occurs to me that comments are a mini writing task, I have been a writing tutor, and if I’m going to ramble about how not to form communities and have meaningful interactions on the internet, I could maybe also help make it a little easier.

This post is written on the assumption that people want to interact, but struggle for whatever reason: nervous, tired, didn’t realize comments meant that much, can’t think of what to say. I myself spent years at a time on ao3 not commenting on literally anything—something about stones in glass houses. But in my experience, while getting comments on my own fics is kind of my favourite, leaving the kind of comment I know I would cherish—and sometimes getting replies from authors replying to my comments and actually chatting with them—is pretty damn magical too.

In that spirit, this post is henceforth a how-to, not an argument, and I’m not going to address anything to do with bad faith comments. I’m gonna try and provide some structures and simple formats to start comments from. I cannot emphasise enough, these are all intended to be used from a place of sincerity. Tools for finding and formatting the appreciation which is already in your brain, just hiding from you.

That said, we’re gonna take this in stages—

1. The Chapter Kudos

“Chapter kudos,” a little “<3,” an “I loved this,” or similar simple expressions of warmth and enthusiasm, slapped on a oneshot or each chapter of a long fic. These are a nice small gesture that lets the author know you’re here and you’re still loving the fic. Not every author is in love with the these type of very short comments, but unless they have a specific note about it, they’re almost certainly glad for the knowledge you’re still reading. This is minimal—great for days or weeks when you’re tired, low effort, can’t think of shit to say about a particular chapter, and so on. Comments, like all tasks, must be allowed to vary in intensity with available energy and time.

2. The 1-2 sentences

A one or two sentence comment. Here, a combination of a general compliment: “this was amazing,” and a specific compliment: “character A’s dialogue felt so realistic” works really well.

General compliments are typically easier to come up with:

What an awesome chapter!

Wow ok I did not see that coming—

I fucking. Love. Your writing.

This was so exciting!

I screamed when I saw this updated

Maybe a little over the top, but you get the idea—it’s hard to go wrong with these.

Specific compliments are often a little harder to come up with, but they generally fall into two categories which are both wonderful: content and writing.

Content includes things like:

I love [character] so much, seeing them in [particular situation] was so fun

Wow there’s so little content for [niche fandom/character/ship/trope] it’s great to see it here

Your idea about [authors headcanon] is so smart—that makes [weird element of canon] make so much sense

I didn’t used to be into [trope/ship] but holy fuck am I convinced now

The point being you’re noting a particular element content of the fic—what and who it’s about—that you loved. These are great because getting really damn excited about a character/trope/headcanon etcetera, really is the heart of fandom.

Writing takes a slightly different tack, and talks about the author’s writing skills—what they do well:

You write such good dialogue, it feels really realistic

Your action scenes are so exciting!

The tone of this chapter was so perfectly creepy—the way you describe [setting/character] gave me the shivers

The spacing you used really fit the piece—it’s a neat way to show the character’s mindset there they’re struggling to think clearly

The combination of a general and specific compliment can make it easier to start writing your comment, while giving you a second to think of your specific thought. It’s simple, but it means a lot to get any kind of specific comment, because it shows the author that you are paying attention to their writing and that you appreciate or relate to them, specifically. These comments are fairly quick to write, but can mean so much.

3. The paragraph

Several sentences long, with a bit more room to explain what you loved. Everything from the 1-2 sentence section applies here too. A general compliment is still a great starting point, and specific compliments are still where we want to end up. The main difference is you’ve got a little more room to talk, and you can take that in a few different directions.

You can talk about one specific compliment for a bit:

I love the way you write dialogue—character A saying “[quote]” was exactly what they would say in that situation. And their banter with character B was incredible, i laughed out loud. The way they both use cursing, but in slightly different ways is fascinating. The way character B does it is…

Or you can go through several different ones quickly:

I love the way you write dialogue—character A saying “[quote]” was exactly what they would say in that situation. The fast dialogue kept the pace up and the whole chapter was so exciting—I loved that you brought up character B and character C’s relationship too, it gets so little attention but I love it…

There’s also room for wider observations and questions (these can also totally go in 1-2 sentence comments, it’s just easier to have a little more substance around them):

Your writing always makes me feel so [feelings]

Wait I’m a little confused did [event] happen the way I think it did, or am I being silly?

Your ideas about [character] are awesome, I love everything you’ve written about them.

I’m so curious, what’s your specific lore on [character/event]?

4. Multiparagraph

Several paragraphs, or a very long paragraph. Hot damn, the author is in love with you now. Either you’ve got a whole lot to say about one specific topic of writing or content, or you’ve got a couple of different topics you want to pay some attention to—as you start writing your comment, you’ll probably discover a few more. Let yourself ramble, make bullet points, just get your thoughts out, if you have this many. All the principles from before apply: general compliments, specific compliments, wider observations, questions—all of these can easily feature in a long comment.

5. Fuck Formating

Write comments in whatever format works for you. Bullet points, google translated into the necessary language, rambling, well organized, short, long, emojis, copy-pasting your favorite quote from the fic with an exclamation point, pre-formatted general compliments, whatever will get your thoughts and enthusiasm down.

If you are communicating, the format doesn’t matter all that much. The same information from a multi paragraph comment can be done in bullet points or by quoting. Whatever communication you do will be meaningful to the author.

It’s hard to go wrong—

Like most writing, making meaningful comments and picking out those specific compliments gets easier with practice. There’s no need to write multiparagraph comments all the time. Those 1-2 sentence ones can be full of so much love, and chapter kudos are sometimes all there’s energy for.

The most important writing advice ever in my opinion is this: you have interesting things to say. About yourself, about the world, about writing, about that damn fanfic.

Go forth and use the structures above, or come up with comments I couldn’t even dream of. Whatever you do, you will find fic authors are probably the most willing and grateful audience in the whole world.

[sherlockedfannibal23]

The complete dynamic between Al Haitham and Kaveh (an overthinker's analysis)

So this has been bouncing around in my head for the past few months and I'm going to try and condense it into this post to get it out of my system. Basically these are the parallel themes or principles that I've seen between Al Haitham and Kaveh since they released. Now with some pictures.

1. Subjective versus objective

Kaveh is one to value the subjective, hence favoring art which is the expression of the individual even if it's the expression of his client's wishes, and will often overextend his empathy to inanimate objects like Merahk, animals, etc. Al Haitham on the other hand is more focused on objective fact that isn't malleable or sympathetic to subjective whims, he takes comfort in the stability of knowledge and that all it takes is more learning to solve problems, and considers a lot of subjective things like emotions to be 'noisy'.

2. External vs Internal perspective

Kaveh prioritizes the perspectives of others over his own as the roots from which his understanding grows, while Al Haitham prioritizes his own perspective over others'. This is why Kaveh comes off as empathetic and sentimental and maybe even naive on the surface even if he's highly intelligent, he chooses to take the more alturistic route on purpose, just like Al Haitham chooses the individualistic route even if it makes him more outwardly selfish and callous, has the potential to isolate him and has made him more difficult to understand, the important part here is that they're exercising the method that they concluded was best to realize their interests. For Al Haitham society begins with the individual (himself), while for Kaveh it begins with the collective, and so their respective truths align accordingly. While Kaveh prioritizes responsibility, Al Haitham prioritizes his personal boundaries. Also, while Al Haitham perceives external perspectives as 'noise', Kaveh uses them to actively shape his understanding.

3. Done versus perfect

Kaveh approaches the world as he'd like it to be, based on its potential, while Al Haitham approaches the world as it is. So Kaveh tends to lean into perfectionism and ideals while Al Haitham leans into efficiency and solutions. This is why Kaveh tends to overextend himself, not only does he think that his projects should be the best they could possibly be, but he also thinks the same about himself, holding himself to perfectionist standards. Meanwhile Al Haitham comes off as doing the bare minimum, sometimes even less, because he believes that as long as something meets the 'done' requirements, any extra effort wastes precious energy, time and resources.

4. Different kinds of evolution (adapting/growing versus navigating/surviving)

I think this is where the most contention happens between them, both Al Haitham and Kaveh were faced with circumstances that forced them to adapt (no family and barely any support at a young age, being unique thinkers who are difficult to understand by the average person).

They also both, early on, chose to carve out unique paths for themselves, with belonging being the trade-off. However, while Al Haitham leaned into maintaining himself as he was, finding a niche in which he was comfortable, Kaveh tried to adapt and conform as much as he could while maintaining his core. Think of it like compromising as much as you can to fit in versus refusing to change in exchange for fitting in.

Al Haitham thus sees Kaveh giving away something precious in return for acceptance from people who don't even understand or value him, while Kaveh sees Al Haitham as simply refusing to try to reach an understanding and so find the support and connection he needs. Neither of them is completely correct about the other, and this is what created the circumstances for their fallout. Because they were shaped mainly by their circumstances and did what they had to do to make it out of their difficult circumstances with their 'selves' intact. They evolved differently and thus have very different interpretations of resilience and growth.

5. Openness vs reservedness

This is a small section that ties into the previous one, but basically Kaveh wears his heart on his sleeve, often having a hard time keeping secrets, while Al Haitham is more protective of his, even going so far as avoiding vulnerability by deflecting when people try to frame the conversation in a way that he needs to be forthcoming with personal details. Don't get me wrong, they both struggle with vulnerability, but Kaveh wants to be understood, almost desperately, while Al Haitham wants to be as invisible as possible and would rather not be percieved.

6. Study vs Mastery

This is kind of a minor one but the way they process information is interesting, with Kaveh leaning more into practice and mastery of a craft while Al Haitham seems to lean more into the accumulation in knowledge and closing any gaps in his database.

7. Structural thinking vs dynamic thinking

This is a little difficult to explain and gets into headcanon territory but basically Al Haitham prefers to break things down into components and then work through the pieces systematically while Kaveh likes jumping from point to point, like traversing a flexible web of ideas or connecting stray dots. It's why Al Haitham is better at fact checking, prefers consistency and is resistant to wild ideas, while Kaveh is more creative and prone to unique and far reaching ideas. It's also why their conversations usually involve Kaveh coming off as an overthinker while Al Haitham grounds his train of thought. Imo they're both overthinkers Al Haitham is just systematic and quiet about it.

8. The past vs the future

This is an overarching theme in Sumeru but dreams, memories, and the connections between them as well as how shared experiences reinforce them are big themes even with these two. Kaveh wants to be very future oriented based on his dialogue but you can also see the past weighing him down, heavily influencing his decisions, while Al Haitham is very pragmatic and averse to thinking too big about the future, wanting a peaceful and free life, but even this was sparked by his grandmother's wish, who in a way set him free from carrying through on a dream tied to external expectations or his family's legacy. Too add, he is close to Kaveh and the gang whether he likes it or not precisely because of their shared past, Kaveh is his memory, and he ends up living in their 'dream house', he is still affected by those thread like connections that come with interacting with others and living in community.

9. Risk vs certainty

Another small one but Kaveh is more likely to make a decision based on the potential outcome than what is right in front of him like Al Haitham. This also ties back into seeing things for their potential versus how they are, with Kaveh preferring to work based on the ideal potential of something versus the factual outcome that Al Haitham prefers.

10. Hope(dreams) vs evidence(memory)

This one is speculation and might also be another reason why Kaveh leans into more speculative territory while Al Haitham prefers fact. Kaveh probably only had his dream to hold onto at his lowest point while for Al Haitham structure and evidence have always been available to him (his grandmother was a steady presence who reassured him on being himself while Kaveh was abandoned with little beyond the guilt-laced memories of his father). So for example Kaveh's projects rely on him having and holding onto a vision that he eventually fulfills, while Al Haitham documents what's already been done and established as the Scribe. This ties into Kaveh seeing himself and the world based on potential while Al Haitham prefers seeing things as they are. However Al Haitham ends up respecting Kaveh because he always follows through on his dreams while Kaveh begrudgingly accepts that Al Haitham is far more consistent due to working within realistic boundaries.

My Conclusions

1. They're both self contradictory

The reason people find the two to be confusing is because their characterization is intentionally misleading, in line with the theme of Sumeru where characters turn out to be more than their tropes once you dig a little deeper. And this is exemplified by how they also misunderstand each other when they were younger and inexperienced, hence their fallout.

A really good example is how Al Haitham believes that it's better for people to be individuals (find their own path to belonging with their sense of self intact) rather than conform or force themselves into systems that won't accomodate or appreciate them, however he just happens to fit neatly into the structures of the Akademiya, he's very compatible with how the Akademiya works, something that's not only rare but inaccessible to most people of Sumeru.

Kaveh on the other hand believes that systems should change to accommodate everyone, and that people should try to meet their potential despite the obstacles, and yet is in the one nation where his dream, his ideal, becomes an impossible task, materially but also systemically. His talents aren't appreciated by the institution that's in charge, even after proving it (and above and beyond that), and after years of putting in the extra effort to appeal to the Akademiya and pull his Darshan out of the dark.

The point of their dynamic is not that either one or both are right, it's that they grow even more through their connection and understanding the other's perspective, which is why Al Haitham takes Kaveh in and indulges his whims somewhat, or in the archon quest when he offers himself up as hostage, even if he knows it'll add more 'noise' to his life, something he explicitly avoided as part of his purpose, and why Kaveh didn't accept to continue the utopian-esque research of Sachin even if it would give him a chance to continue chasing his ideals. They were mirroring each other in action.

2. How they mirror each other

Basically they are both unique to the world, and neglected by the world (in different ways but especially in terms of understanding), and as such needed an equally unique person to help them further deepen their understanding of themselves and their world (inner and external), they also both share many core experiences and thus perspectives on a lot because of their time together at the Akademiya, and as such, their relationship is the thing with the most potential for them to both grow/evolve further. They not only understand each others quirks, routines, and flaws, but also gaps in knowledge and experiences, which is invaluable for a scholar.

So with Al Haitham, Kaveh is probably the only person who is truly empathetic towards him, who can correctly deduce on the roots of his behavior, and also anticipate his needs, and thus Kaveh is the only one who can, for example, give meaningful support and company, as well as a controlled environment to learn about others without conventional and tedious socializing. Kaveh is the reason Al Haitham got leftovers even though he forgot there was a meetup, and the reason Al Haitham now has friends to get drinks and play cards with.

With Kaveh, Al Haitham's self reliance and individualism gives him no room to empathize beyond what's necessary, and so Kaveh is forced to just exist and look inward to his own wants and needs, and then voice them, instead of distracting himself with the needs and wants of the people and institutions around him. He's also a stable anchor for Kaveh, both as a consistent and stable presence in his life, as well as the grounded voice to balance out his dreaming. Al Haitham makes space in their shared home for Kaveh to rest and be himself beyond his burdens.

3. Why Nahida prefers Kaveh's perspective but Al Haitham becomes Grand Sage

Honestly I don't know for sure. My speculation is that Nahida and Kaveh both have great potential for growth as well as the desire to fulfill their dreams, they also share the desire to understand the perspectives of others, exercise empathy that is. However this doesn't apply to when the Akademiya needed a new Grand Sage, a period of instability that needed discernment, efficiency and results, after which it can go back to dreaming about the future.

If you made it this far thank you for reading!

[goingmerryfics]

What You Want - Yonji for @wing-ed-thing

Content: sfw, gn reader, established relationship, holiday shopping, Ichiji is present, Yonji is bad at picking things, one quick mention of Judge.

Notes* “heyo! just saw your ficmas post (love the idea<3) I was going to recommend @wing-ed-thing, because they're one of my favorite writers on this app! They are in the middle of a beautiful Yonji fic. He's a pretty niche character to write for, but I love the way Wing made him come to life!”

Immediately after receiving this, I realized that I have a GREAT idea for Yonji. So here is your ficmas gift, Wing!

Of course Vinsmoke Yonji would wait until the last minute to get you a gift for the holidays. Of course! Was the man just forgetful? Was this always how he did his shopping? Was he an idiot? Maybe all three. But one thing was for sure- he was definitely lost as a gift giver.

He hadn’t even thought to get you anything to celebrate the holidays until you had said something to him. You’d asked off-handedly what kind of gift to get his father, insisting that you couldn’t be rude and show up empty handed after being invited for the family’s holiday dinner and it just struck him right then and there that he still needed to get you something. It wasn’t like he could ask you now though, and in his panicked realization, he couldn’t think of one single thing that you had asked for or needed anytime soon.

Which is what led him here- to this crowded shopping center with other people just like him, browsing the aisles, judging each item of clothing that he picks up.

With his brother, of course.

Ichiji stands with his arms crossed, glaring down his younger brother with an impatient look.

“Why the hell did I have to be here again?”

Yonji barely spares him a glance. “Because you always somehow know what to get them.”

“May I remind you that they’re your partner? How do you not know what your own partner wants as a gift?”

“Shut up, I’m thinking.” Yonji lifts an article of clothing, imagining you in the style, the colour, humming to himself. “This would look good on them, I like it.”

He adds it to the pile on his arm.

Ichiji frowns. “Hey, they don’t like sleeves like that.”

Yonji makes a face. “I guess, but I’d like it on them!”

The older brother groans and facepalms, losing his cool very fast. “You idiot, have you been picking out their gifts because you like them?”

Clueless, Yonji finally looks to his brother. “What’s the problem with that?”

Ichiji takes the pile from Yonji’s hands and dumps them into a discount bin they walk past, heading off to another aisle in the store. “You can’t just choose presents for your damn partner because you think it would look good on them, or because you like the smell of a damn perfume. You actually have to think about the other person. How did you even get them to date you?”

“I don’t know what they want!” Yonji throws his arms up. “I just thought they’d like something that would impress me.”

Ichiji holds back from the next thing he was going to say and instead takes a deep breath. Then he speaks calmly, “Alright. You’re better with your words than with gifts, so think. What do they talk about with you? What kind of things do the two of you discuss?”

Yonji pauses, thinking back to all the conversations you two have had together. All the things that make your eyes shine, all the questions he’d ask about something that made you light up, happy that he’s interested.

After a moment he smiles. “Yeah, I’ve got it. I know just what to get them!”

Ichiji pats his brother on the back. “Great. You do that. I’m going back home. It’s way too crowded here and you’ve taken enough of my attention already.”

Yonji swats at him. “Yeah, yeah, yeah! It’s my partner, I know what they want.”

Rolling his eyes, Ichiji disappears into the shoulder to shoulder crowd of people.

On the way home that day, Yonji holds the gift wrapped present in his hands, a smile on his face as he imagines the way your eyes will shine when you open it up, hoping that maybe his gift will knock Ichiji’s out of the park this time.

[casukaga]

Please talk about what you love the most about your lil blorbos (Cable and Maverick and anyone else!) and what has been a fun challenge while playing them! And any other details that you're like "this is so neat but so niche so no one will know unless this VERY SPECIFIC SCENARIO COMES UP"

HEHEHEH WELL SINCE YOU ASKED….. :3c

cable—

i fuckin love this guy.

the basic rundown of cable: he’s charming, charismatic, loves spontaneity, and loves living life dangerously!! he’s all about doing what makes you happy and is a big advocate for self-love. they’ve got a high self-esteem and know their self-worth (he knows he’s hot shit and loves himself a lot!! ❤️) they also used to work at a brothel and are super open about their sexuality. this guy? horny. they love performing and pole dancing and wearing high heels. he’s also very affectionate and loves any and all kinds of physical contact. he’s also aromantic and pansexual!! he is platonic partners with my gf’s character, ophelia 💕

you ask me what i love about cable and it’s just. all of him LMAO.

i love cable sm because there’s a lot of myself in him (i made their character at a time when i was doing a lot of self-reflection). also he’s so open and honest and self-confident, i’m like— WOW, i aspire to be like you someday…

if i were to give a challenge i have while playing them… i love rp (it is my favorite part of dnd), but i fear i’m not the best at improv. i tend to get nervous during sessions for this campaign specifically. i think it’s that i’m so self-conscious about playing cable accurate to how i imagine him in my head that i’m just a bundle of nerves. i’m nervous at first, but eventually i get into a groove the longer the session goes on. though, these past few sessions especially, i’ve been pretty happy with how i’ve been playing him!! it delights me when my friends tell me they love cable as well 🥺

i also play leiana, my high elf druid!!

i realized i haven’t talked about her / showed her publicly on social media at all, so here she is. i don’t have as many things to say about her as i do cable, but i love her all the same!!

she was the first character i tried to give an accent to (irish), and while my irish accent is definitely not that good— it is what it is. this is just how she sounds like, and it’s good enough for me.

leiana is a cartographer and she loooooves bugs. loves bugs. which is very much not like me because i am, unfortunately, a little bug hater. but leiana has such a fascination with nature and bugs especially. she studies bugs and likes to pin them (she only pins dead ones she finds, she would never kill a bug herself) and she has a collection of pinned bugs!

she also has a pet tarantula named fenri, who can change colors! (he’s primarily pink and matches leiana’s hair.)

leiana is no stranger to grief and she fears dying. currently she is trying to distance herself from the party for Reasons 🥲

while i have a few more dnd characters, they are for upcoming campaigns that i have yet to play in!! cable and leiana are the two i am actively playing at the moment :3

maverick is also in my brain constantly these days, but unfortunately i cannot talk abt xem for reasons….one day i will gush abt them to my heart’s content…

thank u for letting me chatter abt my ocs, i give u a little kiss on the forehead

[1redhearttalks]

I guess I have a hot take here when I say I think it’s weird and wrong to rope others into your fetish. I’ve seen this twice so far, both cases on twitter (this was months ago btw I just never said anything but I’m still seeing it happen so I’m talking abt it) but someone makes a completely innocent post that appeals to those with a “niche” fetish and you decide to…directly ask them to provide you with fetish content???? Fucking HELLO? Maybe it’s just me but that’s so fucking weird.

I would make the claim that these people take advantage of the other person’s naivety since they don’t see [thing] as attractive, but it’s not like these accounts are getting subtle. The first one I think of is the Twitter account whose name is “a cardiophile” like the ppl they’re interacting with are going to look into that and realize why this rando is replying to their post asking to hear their heart beating.

It’s just baffling to me seeing the internet activity of these type of people. This Twitter guy absolutely goes into twitter’s search with key words ready like “pulse,” “heart,” “chest,” etc. it’s obsessive and weird, especially when there’s so much cardiophile content on other platforms, like just readily available on YouTube but you seek out strangers and ask for fetish content from someone who was clearly not posting with that intent. I feel like this rant is all over the place but I’m not going to revise this, I think i got my point across fine

[zombie-bait]

Omg i just realized I have something tiny to add to the whole James Somerton debacle. I'm currently watching the hbombguy vid (as you do when procrastinating assignments) and I remembered something that stood out to me in James' old videos.

So I used to be a fan of his stuff. I am also a fan of Hannibal and IWTV. He made a video covering both so naturally I was very hyped. It was called 'The Gay Appeal of Toxic Love.' The vid itself was fine (I don't remember having any super strong opinions of it besides being excited to hear ppl mention Interview cuz I had recently become obsessed) but one thing did stand out to me. In the IWTV section he mentions Nicki and, naturally, his death:

"After becoming a vampire, Nicky becomes nearly catatonic, and eventually slips away from Lestat entirely. And after centuries of dealing with depression and severe mental illness, Nicky kills himself."

(sourced from this transcript: https://github.com/TerraJRiley/James_Somerton_Transcripts/blob/main/Transcripts/The%20Gay%20Appeal%20of%20Toxic%20Love.txt)

To anyone who's read TVL, I don't think I need to explain that Nicki had not, in fact, been around for centuries. "Nicki had lived to be 30" has been rattling around in my head since I first read it.

And like, obviously I don't expect every youtube essayist to read several long-ish novels to have a full grasp of the series' deep lore, especially when the focus was largely on IWTV and Loustat rather than the entire Vampire Chronicles. Still, it makes you wonder a bit about the quality of the research being done here. You can find the proper info in like, 5 seconds by just going on the fan wiki so I'm not sure what his sources were. And that's the issue at hand, isn't it?

At the time I felt a tiny bit smug recognizing the error but in light of everything that's been revealed, it's kind of telling. I'm not saying this part was plagiarized (I haven't found anything but others on reddit have found issues with different sections of the same video) but rereading the transcript it comes off as someone who clearly doesn't know much about Interview.... It feels like he's reading through a loose summary of plot points rather than analyzing a piece of media that actually means anything to him. It's very much Interview for people who don't know Interview which, one could argue is fair. Especially beyond book one, VC is a niche series and a lot of elements that are important to certain characters or plot lines cannot be summarized quickly for an audience unfamiliar with it. A good writer, who's done a lot of research about the specific topic they have chosen to make a video on, would be able to balance this. There is a LOT to analyze about queerness in VC and its a shame to see one of the more popular queer media channels half-assing it just to churn out videos heavily made up of other people's work. In retrospect he had several videos like that, where he would discuss things like manga/manhua communities while clearly having little knowledge on the nuance of those subjects. He was an outsider who presented himself with a strange amount of authority.

This was content created with the sole intention of propping up queer stories and history, yet it's built off stolen work from queer authors and doesn't actually care that much about exploring the communities it features. Vids like the IWTV one weren't really fact checked because it's only people like me who would might give a shit or even notice anything is off in the first place. There's a bit of a similar vibe in some of his other vids where he undermines the experiences of queer women because he clearly has not taken the time to learn about the nuances of representing queer women in media. These are things that irritated me when I first started to notice them but I put those concerns in the back of my mind because I cared about the topics he was covering and was excited to see these discussions becoming more mainstream.

The revelations of this evening have been disappointing to say the least.

(also for the record I know he made other more recent vids about IWTV but I haven't seen those and even if his account was still up I don't think I would lol

BUT

I did look at the transcript for his 'Vampires and the Gays Who Love Them' video (found from the same link I included above) and this quote about the IWTV AMC show is sending me: "Daniel has never grappled with the complexities of being gay"

Shoutout to straight, uncomplicated icon Daniel Molloy. Devil's Minion was a mass hallucination, spread the word)

[dear-ao3]

Katya's chaotic enough that I regularly fool myself into thinking you're the sensible/normal one and then you go and post something and I realize my folly

oh yeah i’m a little unhinged at times

i am very sensible and can smart my way in and out of situations and i can send a banger corporate email but if you know me very well oh damn

i have (and also this blog low key has) the combined energy of four influencers:

-b dylan hollis

the tiktoker making the old recipes. he knows a weird amount about niche history topics, has general unhinged energy, and a slightly niche sense of humor. he also likes to fuck around in the kitchen and has a pretty generic Why Not Do It For The Bit vibe. his tiktok was also a quarantine project that got out of hand, much like this blog

-joanna ceddia

a youtuber who dropped off the face of the earth a few years ago and deleted her channel but holy hell her content was up there. we tell stories very similarly like very similarly and she was dramatic as all hell. her scammers video was textbook same energy as anything i post on here. she was also doing her own thing, had relatively few friends and was god tier levels of unbothered. max fuck it why not energy.

-micarah tewers

the youtuber who claims to make sewing tutorials but makes anything but. crafty, believes she can do anything with some fabric, a sewing machine and a hot glue gun (same). she does stuff to do it and has the biggest How Hard Could It Be gene that i’ve ever seen. also she tells stories in the same roundabout way that i do. distracted easily but does the stuff in the end

-the sturniolo triplets

those tiktok/youtube triplets that make the car videos. cursed sibling energy to the max, tangents left and right and vague threats but they love eachother at the end of the day. they also like calling out their fans and lurk on their own fan accounts which is the same vibes as katya and i calling you all out occasionally and reading through our notes and stuff. as with everyone else i’ve mentioned they have an unhinged way of telling stories. katya and i also have unhinged sibling energy but me and my own sister have it more