#i should give up and do something else (won't)

[peachesofteal]

you bake when you’re upset or stressed - ghoap/f!reader

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing," the quiver in your voice doesn't do much to dispel Simon's suspicion, and you toss the bowl full of brownie batter onto the counter. "I'm fine."

"You're baking at three in the morning, sweetheart. Did something happen?"

"I had a bad day, is all. It's nothing." The lie hisses through your teeth, jaw set tight as an attempt to keep everything bottled up where it belongs.

"What's going on?" Johnny's leaning against the counter in plaid pajama pants, gold ring on the chain around his neck glinting in the dimmed light of the kitchen. They both wear them, the rings, the ones complementing yours, a delicate twist of three threads, woven together to make one tight knit strand, looped together in a knot at the top of your finger where a diamond would normally go.

"Baked goods in the middle of the night." Simon sticks his finger in the batter, and gives you a knowing look. "You know I'll keep you here until you let it out." You shake your head.

"Let's go back tae bed then." Johnny's trying to coax you, gently, as always. It's his way. Soft, slow, sweet. Even keeled and sensitive.

Still, you won't budge.

It's not them. It's something else, something unsettled in your stomach you can't explain. It's you. Always you. Distraught. Disorganized. Disappointing.

"I need to finish these." Simon's focus is one of a predator's, and you're always prey. Analyzing, anticipating, nose to the ground on a scent. He’s already got you pegged, turned inside out. He knows.

When Johnny carefully wraps his fingers around your wrist and Simon hops onto the counter with his knees spread wide, you know you're done for.

You let them arrange you. Let Johnny push you between Si's thighs and cup your face, stroke your cheek. You go willingly, lacking a fight that was so prevalent only an hour before.

It takes two minutes of physical touch before you're crumbling.

"I had a terrible day," you sob, "I got a parking ticket and spilled my tea and missed an important email and then I bailed out of my work out halfway because I was miserable and then I didn't do anything at home, I wasn't productive, I didn't get any of the laundry done like I wanted and I left so many dirty dishes in the sink last night, I-"

"Okay, hey." Johnny rubs your arm, "hey, ye're alright dove. Ye're okay." He knocks his forehead against yours. "Jus' breathe f'me. Just breathe." You suck a long gasp in through your lungs, Simon tightening his hold enough to ground you.

"Who cares about the laundry? It's not even your week, and the dishes are our fault. You worked all day, we laid around. Should have done them."

"I know!" You cry, "I mean... you should have. But I left them and I feel like I'm always so disorganized, I'm always making a fucking mess."

"I'd clean up your mess everyday. I love you, your dishes and whatever else… none of it matters." Simon kisses your temple, "we both would. And there's nothing wrong with calling it during a workout if you're not feeling well. That's the right thing to do." You nod miserably, lingering in their hold, their arms, your heart rate slowly sinking back into a normal rhythm, your air coming easily.

"Now, do ye really want these brownies? Or do ye want to put the batter in the fridge?"

"Batter in the fridge." You press your face into Simon's shoulder, blocking out the light. You're suddenly so tired, energy drained from the emotional purge, and Johnny rubs your back.

"I'll put it away, ye two go get in bed. Put on a movie, an' I'll be in."

The bed is the coziest place in the house. The safest. The warmest. It's so easy to succumb to sleep and sweet dreams here, so it's no wonder by the time Johnny makes it back, you're barely awake. He tugs you away from Simon's snores and into his arms. "Ah love ye, dove. Messes an' all." You smile.

"I love you too."

[theunanimouscoward]

So this is exactly why I *LOVE* having new players at my table as a GM (for 5e or otherwise). Once a precidence is kinda set, it can be questioned but won't really be moved unless there's extensive discussion (which is really good if you've cultivated a question friendly, cooperative atmosphere for game - it opens up dialogue and creates understanding for why things won't change OR! Gives room for things to be better if they ask a good question or bring up a concern!)

And yes that's hard to do but 10000% worth the work. And there's no one set of rules that kinda makes that happen but it largely does need to be set by the GM. Though that's the thing - the players ahould all agree and enforce those rules too. If everyone agrees to be at session at a certain time and someone is always late then that person needs a talking to about what's going on and how disrespectful it is to everyone else (or an allowance/understanding if they don't get off work before a certain time or something! Maybe see about starting a bit later in those cases - try to work with eachother). In either case it needs talked out and communicated.

The players of the 44 rules thing are just.... Genuinely horrific. Like, is that not your friend? Someone who spent hours if not days creating a world for you to play in and explore? Even if they were just an acquantance is that how you treat people? It's shameful honestly.

A bit anecdotal but I don't think there's a shortage of DMs for 5e by any means - Everyone in one of my two current groups has tried a hand at DMing a bit at this point (some more regularly then others based on comfort level) and had mostly positive experiences with our insulated group (barring a bit of anxiety/stage fright). We started out as complete strangers as well but have been playing together for 2 years now with only one hiccup that we worked through and corrected. I think the issue is that there are bad/toxic players that will almost poison a group and turn new GMs off of running games - and make other players scared to pick up the mantel witnessing it happen. And I think those players are very loudly complaining that no one will run a game for them.

I guess more to the point is; whether you are a player or a GM, the atmosphere of the table you sit at is crafted by each person at the table and letting one person bully and disrespect another regardless of role will always end poorly. Communication is and always will be the key and if someone is called out on bad behavior and doesn't stop then they 100% should be asked to leave.

D&D 5e supposedly has a GM shortage and idk maybe if the player culture of the game didn't treat GMing as a thankless job and the rules of the game as an issue to be fixed by the GM maybe things would be better. Ah well, who knows. Maybe a couple hundred more "we ruined the GM's campaign on purpose" memes will make people enjoy running the game better.

[corkinavoid]

For @pinklotushere, to 'Die With a Smile' by Lady GaGa and Bruno Mars,

DPxDC Before Tomorrow

"I didn't know where else to go."

Danny looks up at the vigilante who is standing on the edge of the roof just a few feet away from him. He watches him fidget and roll his shoulders uncomfortably, then reach up and peel his domino mask off. He won't meet Danny's eyes, he notices absentmindedly.

"Your family, maybe?" He offers, and Tim's shoulders slump in relief.

They hadn't spoken to each other since that very heated discussion over a week ago. Okay, some might have even called it a fight, what with all the yelling, but hey, no one threw punches, so it was still pretty civil in Danny's book.

"They are still running around trying to stop it," Tim shrugs, the line of tension in his shoulders still barely there. Ah, the sole reason that discussion got so heated in the first place. The burden of heroism. Fighting till the very end, even if there's nothing you can do.

Danny turns away, his gaze firmly back on the pink, barely there line at the slowly brightening horizon - the only sign that the sunrise is almost here.

"And you're not?" He asks, not looking at Tim and trying to make the question sound easy and lighthearted. Like it's just another one of their long night talks, one that you can never remember in the morning because you didn't really talk about something in particular, you just talked.

There's a sound of footsteps coming closer, then a ruffle of Tim's cape behind his back, and a faint warmth of his shoulder brushing against Danny's. He sits down just beside, dangling his feet over the edge of the roof. Over the emptiness that is sixty stores between them and the ground.

"No," Tim shrugs, his eyes also on the brink of dawn, slowly creeping through the jagged skyline of Gotham. "I thought, hey, you know, if the world was ending, I'd wanna be next to you," he says with a short laugh. Danny can't figure out if it's hysterical or just relieved. Maybe it's both.

"Like the song?" He asks, a smile tugging on his lips, "If the party was over, and our time on Earth was through?" He recites, turning to look at Tim.

He looks pretty - well, his boyfriend always looks pretty, that's not new - but this time, Danny looks closer, almost studying his face with a rapt attention of a scientist. Trying to engrave them in his memory: the line of his nose and the faint light of the not-yet-here sun, the chapped lips and the calm, almost serene blue in his eyes.

"Yeah, like the song," Tim chuckles and turns to face him, meeting his eyes for the first time since he appeared on the roof. "I'd wanna hold you just for a while," he murmurs, something soft in his voice, and Tim is not a great singer, but Danny loves him anyway. He loves everything about Tim. Including his stubborn decision to keep trying to do something, keep fighting when there's no way out, keep clawing his way through the ruthless circumstances that leave him no choice.

He doesn't finish the verse, and Danny gives him a crooked smile, doing it for him, "And die with a smile."

Tim's face doesn't change. He is still smiling, looking at Danny with a fondness he only likes to show behind the closed doors, and, with a short pang at his core, Danny realizes: He's dealt with it.

He's dealt with the unbending storm inside of him that pushed him to fight despite the consequences, he's came to terms with the promise of impending doom.

And he came here to sit beside Danny, dangling their feet over the edge of a skyscraper, and watch the last sunrise.

Danny feels so much love for his boyfriend that it almost hurts, his core thrumming in his chest, threatening to spill out.

The first rays of sunshine color Tim's cheek with gold, and Danny leans forward.

Tim's eyes flutter closed, but Danny doesn't kiss him, like he probably expected - and, in all fairness, like he probably should have. Instead, he only brushes his lips over the boy's cheek and leans closer to his ear.

There are thousands of things he can say, starting with the simple 'I love you' and all the way to 'I won't let you die, smile or not'.

But the one thing he says, a cheeky grin on his face, is,

"I lied. There is a way."

He did not, there isn't, but Tim takes a sharp breath in and grips his shoulder so tight it hurts, and Danny knows he will find it even if the better timeline will never come.

~•~•~•~

That song is a waltz, and waltzes always make me feel like writing heart-wrenching love stories, I'm sorry. No, I'm not, I lied.

The pure fucking devotion, people. Tim, who is okay with giving up just to spend the last minutes with Danny and Danny, who is okay with ruining the world just so he can make Tim happy. I'm in love with them.

[Also, my initial idea was to write a DarkHumor (Dick/Dan) spicy piece for this, but then Dead Tired took over my brain and ate it whole, so here we are]

[slashersdaddy]

Hiii! How would slashers react if their usually soft s/o ask them to kill someone for whatever reason?

OOOOHH I LOVE this idea!! give me a sec to whip something up!! (Post production edit: I'm so sorry it took so long! I had a long spell of creative rut!)

VARIOUS SLASHERS WITH SOFT S/O ASKING THEIR PARTNER TO KILL SOMEONE FOR THEM!

Includes: Jason, Micheal, Vincent Sinclair, Lester Sinclair, Bo Sinclair, bubba Sawyer, Thomas Hewitt, Charles Lee Ray, Freddy Krueger

AS ALWAYS MDNI! I AM AN 18+ PAGE! THANK YOU!

Jason Voorhees:

Jason was confused to say the least- you WANTED him to kill someone? What did that bastard do?

When you first come to Jason, your usually cheerful face set in grim determination, and almost resignation- he feared the worst, that you wanted to leave him.

But when you uttered the question, when you asked him to kill someone- his already dead heart felt like it may break again- what did they do? Why did you feel the need for him to kill them?

Does he need to make them suffer? How badly did they hurt you?

It may be overwhelming how many questions he asks (signs) you.

Of course in the end he will of course kill the person- if for nothing else than because he cares for you and your mental health.

He will set you up all cozy before he leaves to do the deed, leaving you with blankets and movies and hot cocoa.

Michael Myers:

No questions asked- he is out the door.

dont even expect to be able to explain WHY you want this guy/girl dead- he will already be grabbing his weapon and heading for the door.

Of course he will make it especially painful- they hurt his S/O after all.

But once its done, he'll slink home, wrapping his arms around you from behind and burying his face in your neck, still bloodied from the asshat who DARED make you upset.

And of course he would cuddle you close, silently holding you and stroking your tummy, low growls are expected if you try to get up at all.

he probably will keep you home for the next few weeks- for your 'protection'

and he does mean it!!!

he wants you safe!!

Even in his own fucked up way <3

Vincent Sinclair:

Vincent will pause- eyes scanning you- thinking perhaps it was a joke

you HAD to be joking right?

but when he realized you weren't his stomach turned-

what the hell had this bastard done? clearly he didn't DESERVE to be immortalized- so of course Vincent wouldn't use him at all in his art

rather making Lester 'dispose' of the body quietly

he would make it painful- violent; much more than usual

Once the deed is done he will coddle you, showing you little sculptures, or if you are interested in art- draw and paint with you, his watchful gaze never leaving you- you were his messiah, his god/dess you were his everything-

he would make sure you were safe.

even though he would usually leave this to his brother, it's personal now

Lester Sinclair

Now Lester, he's taken off gaurd by this request, you his sweet lil angel cakes are asking him to off someone?

But of course he won't tell you no.

He will make sure to get his Bowie knife all ready to 'take ojt the trash'

He will ask how painful it should to be

If your crying when you ask, even more reason for him to make that bastard suffer worse than they made you suffer.

Bo Sinclair

Bo doesn't ask anymore questions.

All he needs to know is when where and who.

Of course he will make it painful

And of course he will make the fucker suffer, maybe he will even remove a few fingers to torture them.

He wants his partner happy, so hearing you ask him to kill someone sent him off the fucking rails.

Bubba Sawyer

Bubba sees red

Why would you of all people want someone dead?

Unless they hurt you real bad.

That makes him really angry

He doesn't like the idea of you being hurt, let alone someone else hurting you so bad you don't want them alive anymore.

It will be painful

And slow

He knows how to kill fast, so it stands to reason if he doesn't hit vital points he can make them suffer longer

Thomas Hewitt

Tommy sees red, very similar to bubba

Except he will put on a full on manhunt for the fucker

Using more phycological methods first, stalking them like prey

Before snatching them up and ending them brutally

Charles Lee ray

An excuse to kill some sad mother fucker? Gladly.

But when he sees the tears in your eyes, the way you are shaking, it's personal.

It isn't any longer something to waste time.

This fucker hurt his partner.

This bastard dated touch what was his.

Honestly he will probably fillet the fucker

Freddy Krueger

He won't make it easy.

He will torment the bastard for weeks in their dreams before finally striking.

And of course he won't let you forget that you asked him to kill someone

Of course he is worried, he doesn't fully grasp what the sudden change was about, but he doesn't mind killing for you.

[rootspiral]

Agatha All Along deep dive: episode 9 part 6

(Wandavision entries: [1][2][3])

(AAA entries: ep1 [1][2][3][4] ep2 [1][2][3][4] ep3 [1][2][3] ep4 [1][2][3][4][5][6][7][+1] ep5 [1][2][3][4][5] ep6 [1][2][3] ep7 [1][2][3][4][5][6] ep8 [1][2][3][4][5][6][7][8][9] ep9 [1][2][3][4][5][6])

billy drives to westview again, I guess flying right now feels weird while he's so conflicted about his own witchy nature. and who boarded up agatha's door? were the neighbors afraid some other unspeakable horror was going to jump out of the house?

we get another good view of agatha's grave, with all the purple flowers and mushrooms rio grew for her

agnes' bike and señor scratchy's cage (I hope that fluffer bunny's okay somewhere)

NOT HELPING, AGATHA. did she just run down to the basement so she could do her 'it's britney bitch' face? (she does look like britney here)

sure, sure, you'll get your brooch back and then you'll be on your merry way doing ghostly shit with no regrets whatsoever. it's not like you've been following billy around like a lost puppy or anything

agatha sees billy drawing the circle and is all posture again, a big slice of "I'm cooler than you and you don't scare me little kid" with a side of "ooooh are we doing magic?? I love magic lemme see lemme see!"

she's truly embarrassing

you're the one with a buttload of black candles in your basement agatha who do you think you're mocking

a pentacle, the symbol of our coven surrounding him. wherever you are, a coven there shall be.

oooh book through the heart! we get it, symbolism.

agatha sees the brooch and gives a deep relieved sigh, immediately followed by more bullshit. JUST TELL HIM THAT'S YOUR SON'S BROOCH AND IT'S IMPORTANT, YOU USELESS DISASTER. JUST OPEN UP FOR ONCE.

the spell is vade (not valia) a lucem, relinque terram, noli esse phantasma. go to the light, leave the earth, don't be a ghost (bit on the nose.)

what's wrong agatha, not feeling so confident all of a sudden?

you know the drill by now, she won't go quietly. so she sneers.

ooh we're appealing to his better nature now? after your many 'never apologize for murder' lessons?

idk man, it's almost as if the people you keep pushing away will eventually get tired of your bullshit. it's almost as if billy here, the kid you supposedly care a lot about, just went through a terrible experience and could really need a wise mentor right now - instead of whatever you're doing.

and now we're begging. better make a decision there agatha, you're starting to fade away!

sure, that will help. great plan agatha, masterful gambit, turning into a ghost and losing even more of your agency

there you go. it only took this poor wretch nine episodes, killing three people, scaring away forever the love of her life, thoroughly traumatizing a kid and somehow losing her entire body to express ONE honest, uncensored feeling.

it's the little steps.

heartwarming: local 350 year old experiences for the first time the mortifying ordeal of being known.

another thing billy and agatha have in common is how good they are at reading people. with billy it's a natural talent (comes with being a mind reader) that he's still learning how to use, he can read people but doesn't know how to interpret what he finds yet, hence the whole trials fiasco.

with agatha, he's been trying to reconcile his instincts with facts and logic. on a surface level he shouldn't trust agatha at all, indeed she's the last person anyone should trust. but since he was that kid who liked hanging out at agnes' house, billy guessed something else in agatha, a vulnerability behind all the darkness that he's been (awkwardly) trying to bring to the surface.

why? I think it's for the same reason agatha has been reaching out to him: because they're so similar. billy wants to reconcile agatha's two natures because he wants to do the same for himself. he is the son of the witch who tortured westview, he has all this scary power. there is a darkness in him that he doesn't know how to deal with, but maybe, if agatha is redeemed, there is hope for himself too.

in other words, these two are kindred spirits (spiritual mother/son, mentor/mentee, whatever you want to call it) who recognize each other and instinctively want to stick to together, even though it's a bad, bad idea.

(I cannot believe it took agatha turning into a ghost to finally get a manicure for her nasty witchy nails)

and this is all it took to win billy over, that's how ready and eager he was to believe agatha has a heart! the moment he realizes that of course agatha loved nicholas! of course she's devastated after losing him! he steps back and dries a tear, moved. for the first time he sees agatha's pain and, the good kid he is, he's earnest to give her sympathy and comfort. he's still too young to fully understand what agatha has been trough, but he doesn't need to. he just needs to care and be there for her, and that's enough, that makes all the difference.

the salemites taught agatha that she cannot trust others, that if she shows who she really is people will hate her and hurt her. when nicky died she tried all she could to exorcise that devastating pain, except asking for help. she never allowed someone to give her even the most basic forms of comfort, no hugs, no crying on someone's shoulder, no 'I'm sorry this happened to you'. no 'I'm here for you, if you need anything'. no 'I know it feels like that, but I promise it wasn't your fault.'

agatha set out to mold and raise billy as another version of herself, but what she got instead is a kid who, just like nicky, is simply glad to love her back. yes, people will leave you if you keep pushing them away, but the opposite is also true: if you stick by and make an effort, no matter how many mistakes you make, most people will recognize what you're doing and respond in kind. it sucks that agatha can do that so rarely and with so much difficulty. but it happens sometimes, even to her.

I've talked about how a "coven two" is never sustainable on the long run, how you cannot just have one person be your whole world. humans, social animals we are, simply need a community. but for now it's a start, it's agatha cautiously letting herself be around another person again. and oh god she's going to be such a bad influence on this poor kid. I'm glad *he* has other people in his life, at least.

she's like, faIR WArNiNG

ookay drama llama. these two gays, I swear. already trying to outdrama each other.

she's all proud!! look at her boy paying homage to the dead and expressing his grief like a champ! meanwhile I'm sitting here like guys, guys, you cannot just write their names on the floor and call it a day, have you CHECKED if you have to break the news to their loved ones?! did sharon have children? did alice have friends or a partner that are looking for her right now?!?!!?!?! please make ONE phone call I beg you! is there an ADULTIER ADULT in the room, you CANNOT LEAVE THESE TWO IN CHARGE

and off they go, merrily causing chaos and mayhem. if I had to guess what happens next, agatha is going to love and help and teach that kid while making soooo many mistakes and causing soooo much emotional damage, and also very much try to manipulate him into giving her a new body, because lbr, this asshole didn't get herself close to the one person on earth who can do that by pure accident. all immaturity and ulterior motives aside, agatha is taking baby steps in the right direction and I'm SEATED for it.

AND WE'RE DONE. I cannot believe I got to the end of this?!!?! thank you from the bottom of my black heart to all the peeps who reached out and encouraged me, thank you for all your likes and reblogs and engagement, and special thanks to @idkbroletssee, @yodladi-yodlada, @aquaaquila, @onceuponalegendbg, @vinspiration-book, @sallysetonagathario, @2-the-moon-and-2-saturn, @yourlocalegotisticalqueerishere, @isagrimorie, @jojobobapalooza, @netellie, @nutella-icecream, @talysalankil, @ragnarockz, @misschanandlerbong25, @westviews-nosiest, @liminal-smith, @kendrysaneela, @whogirl42, @witchtwig, @nerdybeachbum299, @bogcrowe, @the-silence-in-between, @farminglesbian, @lazyreinelle @fantasticvoidnerdshoe, @ofutopia, I'm sure I'm forgetting many but I promise I see you all!

Last but not least, big, grateful thanks to @crybabyheathen for always messaging me and forcing me out of my shell and encouraging much needed human interaction 😉. And lots of love to @april-december, don't tell anyone but I look forward to your comments the most, it truly means the world that you appreciate and engage with my posts like you've been doing.

Happy new year, everybody!

[prettybiching]

MY SISTERS BIG FAT DESHI WEDDING IS DONE AND DUSTED AND IM NOW BACK TO DEVOURING MY FAVOURITE ANGSTY MASTERPIECE HELLOOOOOOOOO

Daemon is taken off-guard by how you pull away from him. He knits his brows, following after you as you head towards his niece, deeply annoyed by how easily you disregard him. But upon hearing the words you speak, he freezes.

For the 722819th time Daemon, please be normal for once (although his lovesick puppy behaviour is doing it for me ngl)

I would lay down my life for you my princess. On other note, I really hope that rhaenyra and the princess are able to find themselves on good terms despite the fact that alicent and rhaenyra are about to hate their guts. My girl needs all the support that she can get.

"Pain is difficult... but I've come to realize," you swipe her cheek, "it makes peace all the more precious." You chuckle under your breath when your own eyes begin to water, "I would know."

Rhaenyra's hand is quickly dropped when Daemon comes to your side, calling out your name. You sheepishly turn to him, apologizing over and back as he escorts you to a seat.

Girl bye, daemons disregard for rhaenyra is making me feel good about the man whore that is daemon 😋😋

...It makes her sorrow all the more sour.

Rhaenyra pls you're going to get your hunk of a bear guard to keep you company, leave him for us and dont pin after him 🙏🙏

You turn to him, sheepish, still, "I am. Thank you, darling."

ZOO WEE MAMA IM SCREAMINGGGGGGG

"Where is your father?" Daemon turns to Rhaenyra, seemingly not noticing your slip up. He did notice, but why wouldn't you call him darling?

omg slay you're so right daemon (for once!) Why wouldn't she????!!!

"No," Daemon quips, placing his silverware down, "I do not want to be subjected to tolling bells and incense."

Hey ho! The last time I checked, you're uncle not aunt. Stop poking your nose in other people's business omg???

"She has your sister," he turns to you, "if they need another companion, lend her your ward."

I want 2 bash his head against a wall. Thanks <3 The award for ruining progress should go to him.

The image of sorrowful wailing still haunts him, and your prayer for death is not something he wishes to hear ever again. You cannot pray such prayers if you are not in that fucking place, "I forbid you from going to the temple."

Something about how daemons intentions have perhaps always been misunderstood growing up and he's always been labeled as cruel/heartless so he stopped explaining himself. He had to bury that soft exterior and only knows how to give commands and now he's subconsciously commanding his wife to stop praying for her death. But she won't get to know it because it would seem like a weakness.

"You impress me with your commitment to understand everyone else but I."

Ugh, Daemon!! You frustrate me so much. How can she?! How can she when you're so busy fighting all different versions yourself at every moment that she can never predict which version of you she will get. I need you, to even for a moment, get over your self-loathing to look - and I mean really look - at her.

More accurately, you cannot. You clutch your chest and try to calm yourself before you slip into a full blown attack. You force yourself to take five deep breaths, and thankfully, you do not feel light headed.

Oh God, I'm not ready. I thought I was prepared for the bad parts but I'm not.

The thing was, you were still a terrible runner, and it if wasn't hard enough to catch your breath, you were screaming out the prince's name as you did, making it doubly hard.

IM GOING TO KILL MYSELF DAEMON JUST LOOK BACK AT HER FOR ONCE

"...as punishment for being unkind to your husband."

MY GIRL NO!!! NEVER. None of it was your fault ever and I can scream it from the highest mountain but you would never believe it, not even if daemon admits it to you. I will hunt down every man that has ever hurt you I promise.

"No!" you grab his arms, "you must not tell him! You must not tell a soul."

Oops I forgot about the baby doom again (mostly because I'm in denial and hoping that the destined chaos will simply never come)

"Papa," you mumble to yourself as you go to him.

No, stop. I will never get over how she instinctively reached for her father. And how Otto reacts to it like it's muscle memory (it is). Because Otto is her father, she has been raised being loved, protected and shielded by him. And Otto has spent her whole life doing exactly that.

The fact that Otto has tried and tested so many forms of consolations on you over the years, and it only goes to show that she has received a father's love- the only parental affection in her life - through the twisted means of Otto.

"The gods with strengthen you, daughter." he turns to Alicent, "I will take care of it, my girl."

Stop, stop, stop noooooo. This is the worst possible thinking that Otto has ever come up with. The idea that Alicent would have to sacrifice herself and her autonomy for the alleged safety (in the Hightowers' eyes) of the princess is going to be her end in itself. She would not be able to handle the fact that her baby sister is going to fall to the sword to save her.

Daemon ticks. He had been gazing into space, but now he has the wits to pours himself a drink, "is she dead now too?"

Fuck off you absolute rat. No but I need to see him react to some far-fetched rumour, perhaps when he has fucked off to God knows where, about the princess being dead and I just knowwwww he's going to absolutely fucking lose it mind like hah you little rat idiot, who is making these nonchalant jokes about her being dead now huh??

Your lips wobble, but you steel yourself away. You crush your sister into your arms and pepper her cheeks with kisses, "my sweet girl. I am five years your senior. I must lend you my ear." You pull away and cup her cheeks. You frown when you see her glassy eyes, "do not worry for me."

My heart just shattered into a million pieces. Justice for these two girls.

"Only I inherited your hair color," you mumble, beginning to tremble, "if my child looks too much like me—" you rapidly shake your head, "he will-"

Only once I need him to overhear just an ounce of her fear. Because I need this rat head to know that just because he feels this palpable love for her within himself, doesn't mean that she knows it and just how afraid she is of him.

Otto closes the door and the boy places the crackers on the table. The man circles 'round to his desk and sits down, "what news do you bring me today?"

I'm going to strangle some1 (possibly daemon)

I couldn't help myself but I already skimmed through ch10 earlier during the wedding festivities and bawled my eyes out at like 3am but gosh I can't want for a reread.

AS ALWAYS THANK YOU AUTHOR FOR KEEPING ME FED I LOVE YOUUUUUU

Tormented Spirit | 9

Part 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10

"Is it such a sin to stand up for yourself?" you mutter as tears blur your vision. The way he reacted was visceral, instinctive even. "You never have to stand up for yourself ever again," says Daemon, reaching a hand to you, "come."

Daemon Targaryen x Hightower!Reader | 4k+ | cw: fem!reader, reader has brown hair, wife!reader, twin!Gwayne, arranged/forced marriage, canon divergence, alternate universe, slow burn, DD:DNE, panic/anxiety attacks, daddy issues/child abuse/family problems, mentions/depictions of mental/physical/psychosomatic illness, ye old misogyny, angst, typos, etc.

A/N: GUYS ITS STILL TOO FUCKING LONG I HAD TO CUT IT AGAIN. T_T canon stuff/medieval health care might not be accurate so ROLLLL with it ok. please consider leaving comments/reblogs because they really help me with the fic. | cross posted on ao3

@arabellasleopardcoat @prettybiching @myllovellybones

Daemon takes you to the dining room, and upon entering, you are met with Rhaenyra and Alicent, who were in the middle of eating lunch. For a split second, you are happy to see them both, but then you remember the horrible news regarding the princess's mother.

Daemon is taken off-guard by how you pull away from him. He knits his brows, following after you as you head towards his niece, deeply annoyed by how easily you disregard him. But upon hearing the words you speak, he freezes.

"My deepest condolences, my princess," you curtsy at Rhaenyra before placing a hand on her shoulder.

She is dejected and her eyes are sullen as she turns to you.

"She was in active labor last I saw her..." you shake your head, finding the words to say, "it is terrible to be without a mother," you turn to your sister, placing a hand on her shoulder as well, "the pain never quite leaves you. My sister and I know it well."

Rhaenyra turns back to her food, "how good to know."

You frown and crouch down beside her, "darling."

Rhaenyra slowly turns back to you, tears now falling from her eyes.

"Pain is difficult... but I've come to realize," you swipe her cheek, "it makes peace all the more precious." You chuckle under your breath when your own eyes begin to water, "I would know."

Alicent frowns, quickly feeling her own eyes well up at the display.

The same happens to Daemon. He watches three girls weep and his face hardens as he comes to Rhaenyra's side, "bisa tolī kessa rēbagon, ñuha riña." This too shall pass, my girl.

Rhaenyra turns to her uncle as he grabs her hand, heavy tears stream down her face, "ziry ōdragon." It hurts.

Daemon is supposed to say something, but then he notices Alicent begin to fuss over you. You softly brush her off as you come to stand. Alicent is quick to stand with you, and she is glad to have done so, because you nearly topple back.

Rhaenyra's hand is quickly dropped when Daemon comes to your side, calling out your name. You sheepishly turn to him, apologizing over and back as he escorts you to a seat.

Rhaenyra stares at you as her uncle sits you in the chair across her She watches how Daemon treats you, thinking she's never seen him treat anyone like this before, much less a lady. It makes her sorrow all the more sour.

He brushes your back but only calms after your food is served and he's seen you eat a few bites. He takes a goblet of wine but his eyes remain fixed on you, "better?"

You turn to him, sheepish, still, "I am. Thank you, darling."

Alicent's eyes widen at the sound of the pet name. Rhaenyra rolls her eyes with a huff. It is precisely that sound that makes you realize what you've said. You were used to referring to Alicent and Rhaenyra that, it came so naturally this moment, "I- I mean-"

"Where is your father?" Daemon turns to Rhaenyra, seemingly not noticing your slip up. He did notice, but why wouldn't you call him darling?

Rhaenyra clenches her jaw as she shakes her head, "mourning his lost heir."

Both you and your husband's face fall. You turn from the princess to the prince, reaching for his hand. Daemon clutches your hand as his brows constrict, "your brother is dead?"

"Just last night," Rhaenyra absentmindedly stirs her food, "his and my mother's funereal will be held in a few hours."

Your heart hurts for her, "my deepest sympathies for your losses, princess."

There is a thick silence for a moment. You all find it quite hard to eat, but you do so regardless. You force feed yourself through the unpleasant churn in your belly. After a while, you look across the room, finding that it looked everyone was experiencing the same thing. You break the silence, turning to your sister, "perhaps Alicent can accompany you to the temple to pray. It did always help me."

Alicent turns to Rhaenyra, but she does not react.

Your sister looks back at you and you give her a nod of encouragment. Alicent thinks for a moment, "a walk there would be good for you as well."

You smile at the red haired girl.

"My prayers are terrible," Rhaenyra mumbles.

You huff and frown at the thought, "it is impossible. No prayer is terrible, especially not one spoken in earnest."

Rhaenyra remembers how her septa would use you as an example for praying. She sniffles, "would you join us, aunt?"

You perk and immediately nod, "I would love t-"

"No," Daemon quips, placing his silverware down, "I do not want to be subjected to tolling bells and incense."

You all turn to him as Daemon turns to you. You slowly shake your head, "if... that is the case, you do not have to come."

Daemon's eyes widen ever so slightly in offense.

"Perhaps you can wa-"

"Kesan daor mītepagon ao ñuha ābrazȳrys," I will not lend you my wife, says Daemon to Rhaenyra.

You turn from your husband to his niece. Rhaenyra looks back at you, "he says he will not lend you to me."

Your lips part, giving him a look, "Daemon."

"She has your sister," he turns to you, "if they need another companion, lend her your ward."

A long silence passes.

Rhaenyra stares at her half-empty plate and decides that's as much as she'll ever get to eat in this moment. She pushes her chair back and stands, "I'm quite finished," she looks between the table. Alicent takes a final spoonful before standing as well.

"Raqagon aōha ābrazȳrys, kepa," enjoy your wife, uncle, Rhaenyra says as she walks off. Alicent follows after her, and both girls look at you as you stand to greet them goodbye. Daemon simply looks at his niece.

Rhaenyra, though she always harbored a special affection towards her uncle, could not find it in her to project her ire out on you, for you were nothing but kind to her, and after all, you were her closest friend's older sister. She nods at you as she leaves, "princess."

"Princess," you nod back and do the same for Alicent, "sister. Take care of each other."

Once they are gone, you sit back down and glare at Daemon.

It takes a moment for him to realize it. When he catches your look, his brows contort. You immediately quip, "would it very hard for you to stomach the ambience of the temple for an hour?"

Daemon turns back to his plate. He thinks of the night he came to you at the temple, "just because I came for you does not mean I wish to do the same for Rhaenyra."

You knit your brows deeply, not having a clue on what he's saying, "what?"

The image of sorrowful wailing still haunts him, and your prayer for death is not something he wishes to hear ever again. You cannot pray such prayers if you are not in that fucking place, "I forbid you from going to the temple."

"You forbid me?" you ask, flabbergasted.

"It is my prerogative where I go, and-" he turns back to you, "where my wife does."

You stare at him for a moment. You feel frustration bubble in your belly, "Daemon."

Anger bubbles in his belly.

You reach for his hand and gaze upon him in confusion, "the child's mother is dead."

He looks at your hand before his away, "I knew her mother longer than she has."

You chuckle in disbelief, pulling your head back. He looks at you, jaw set and eyes glassy. You shake your head slowly, "that's not fair."

"Isn't it?" Daemon laughs, hurt by your sentiment.

"Her mother is dead," you shake your head rapidly, "she who taught her everything she kno-"

Daemon stands abruptly, jaw and fists clenched tightly, making you flinch. He stares at you for a long moment and you feel your breath begin to grow heavy. You slowly reach for his hand, half expecting him to rip his arm away. When he does not, you come to a stand, "Dae-"

"You impress me with your commitment to understand everyone else but I."

His words stab you like a spear through the chest. Your eyes begin to water, "is that what you think I'm do-"

"Then what?!" he snaps, tears threatening to fall down his cheeks.

You begin to sob and you take his cheeks, "I'm trying to make you understand what I am thinking, why I want to go with Rhaenyra, because I know what it fee-"

"Do I not mourn?" Daemon swats your hand away from him. He quickly turns away when his tears begin to fall. He does not get to notice how you twitch at his action, nor how instantly your heart begins to race.

He walks off to the door, stopping for a moment, waiting for you to come after him. You do not.

More accurately, you cannot. You clutch your chest and try to calm yourself before you slip into a full blown attack. You force yourself to take five deep breaths, and thankfully, you do not feel light headed.

Daemon, too wrapped up in his self-suffering, does not even think to look at you and storms out of the dining room.

By the time the doors slam shut, you are able to bring yourself to go after your husband. You move as quickly as you can, convincing yourself sprinting was worth it if you managed to catch up to Daemon. The thing was, you were still a terrible runner, and it if wasn't hard enough to catch your breath, you were screaming out the prince's name as you did, making it doubly hard.

Daemon, on the other hand, did not have to try to walk as fast as he did. He is walking so fast, if anyone were to crash into him, they would shoot off and hurt themselves.

It doesn't take long for you to lose your breath, and though you didn't want to, your body to forces you to stop. You were so close. You managed to catch a whiff of Daemon's silver hair, but now everything was turning silver... then black. You reach to the side to lean against the wall, but you miscalculate your reach and shift your weight, only to slip and crash roughly onto the ground.

You're so out of breath, no sound comes out of you when you crash. The pain is immense, yet you are rendered mute. Your ribs throb at the impact of colliding against the stone floor. You do not know it, but your nose it bleeding too.

It's a wonder that you did not pass out. Or perhaps it was the gods' will for you to feel fibre of your body strangle itself from how your lungs struggled, as punishment for being unkind to your husband.

You do know know it, but two Gold Cloaks find you on the floor. They are quick to bring you to the maester's ward. You hear them explain to the measter how they found you, and you muster up your remaining energy to say, "Daemon... please."

The two Gold Cloaks understand and leave with the intent of sending your husband to you. They will not manage to find him till much later for he went off on dragonback.

You lie on one of the cots in the maester's ward, staring at the ceiling you've come to know all too well. You know your maester can do little to help you in this moment, but you are grateful for his care nonetheless.

"You mustn't strain yourself in your condition, your grace," the old man says, "you are carrying a child within you."

You tense at his words. Your sit up and straighten your back, rapidly shaking your head, "b-but, maester, how can that be? It cannot be."

He offers you a solemn look, "your father, Lord Hand, has made us monitor you-"

"He does not finish inside me," you quip and frantically motion, "he- he... he spills on my skin. How then can I be with child?"

The maester is taken aback by your confession. He does not give himself away though and calmly explains, "it is still possible for... the seed take root from premature ejaculation."

You are floored by this information. You shake your head in disagreement, "but— he will not believe me."

"He does not have to. It does not ch-"

"He will do everything to villainize me. He will accuse me of infidelity."

He frowns, "I can explain it to-"

"No!" you grab his arms, "you must not tell him! You must not tell a soul."

He pulls his head back, "your grace..." he brings your hands slowly off him, "you can only hide such a thing for so long."

You shake your head and bring yourself to stand, "it is a worry for another time."

"Wait- you cannot leave-"

"I cannot miss the queen's funeral."

The maester does his best to prevent you from leaving. He calmly tries to lead you back to bed and explain that no one would fault you for being unable to attend. You are persistent however and managed to get out of the room. Two other maesters come and try to reel you back in, and it is the same time your wards come running in.

News of you fainting had spread like wildfire, and both their faces were marked with avid worry. "Princess!" they call in unison.

"Make them release me!" you wail in exhaustion as you fight off the maesters.

"She cannot go," your maester says, "she is far too weak."

"Unhand her this instant!" Erryk barks, ready to forcefully shove the old men away from you.

The maesters pull away in shock and confusion as Erryk imposes upon them. Arryk is the one to keep you upright, and he is horrified by the state you are in. You lean into his armour, lulled by his hard steel as you sigh in exhaustion.

"You would subdue her in such a state?" Arryk snaps.

"She is hysterical," the maester says, "she is not strong enough to-"

"Aye, but she's strong enough to fight off 3 grown men?" Arryk grits his teeth as he keeps you upright, "have you not given her medication?"

He sighs, "there is no medication fo-"

"Then what business has she here?" Erryk raises his brows, "you'd keep her to rot?"

The man scoffs, "I am offended, ser, that you think you know better than I when it comes to the health of the princes."

"I do know better," Erryk snaps, "you will not treat her like a prisoner if she asks to leave again."

"Ha!" the maester snaps, "fine! I'm sure the days you've spent gutting men has made you learned in the ways to heal them, ser."

With that, the maesters leave and you feel a weight lifted off your shoulders. You sigh as Erryk turns to you, seeing the hardness of his face soften in real time. You frown, "you should not have done that."

"My duty?" he narrows his eyes, "they had you surrounded like a criminal."

Arryk nods, "I fear they might have bruised you."

You sigh, fighting back tears. You steel yourself away and shake your head, "I should prepare for the funeral."

You do just that and Erryk and Arryk escort you to the funeral. You immediately spot Daemon, but he was stood beside his brother and niece, so you did not think it proper to interlope. You find Alicent standing just a few paces from Rhaenyra and debate to join her, but then you see the Lord Hand farther behind her, and you feel the need to cry.

"Papa," you mumble to yourself as you go to him.

Your father is quick to recognize your distress once you come to him, and quickly takes you under his arm. It is so instinctive, the Cargyll twins are shocked by it. They were supposed to keep close watch on you, but they decided to give you and your father privacy.

Otto had long decided physical affections were no use to you, and yet in this moment, he pulls you into him, securing one arm your shoulders. You press your cheek into his chest as you steal a glance at the king. Viserys stands before two lifeless bodies, and the sight mirrored that of the day your mother died.

You wrap your arms around your father.

He sighs, eyes throwing daggers at the Rogue fucking prince, "did he take the news badly?"

You shake your head, "I have not told him."

Otto sighs again, agitated and disappointed. His face is crestfallen as calls out your name, "what happened then?"

"I am terrified."

Your father tenses and clenches his jaw. He strokes your hair, doing his best to ignore the awful sounds you were making. "The gods with strengthen you, daughter." he turns to Alicent, "I will take care of it, my girl."

After the funeral, once Otto made sure you are taken care off, he goes to his other daughter and asks about the princess. Alicent is quick to explain to him that Rhaenyra is so much like you when your mother died, "I have not seen Rhaenyra in such a state."

Otto offers Alicent a soft smile, placing a hand on her cheek, "you are ever empathetic, daughter, to both the princess and your sister."

"Sister did not look well at the funeral either. I should check up on her."

"That won't be necessary," her father raises a hand, "I've seen to her already. She needs only to rest now."

Alicent slowly nods.

"You ought to offer some empathy to the king however."

The girl tenses at the thought.

"Unlike your princesses, the king does not have people to go to at this time. Even now, he's secluded himself in his chambers. It would be good of you to go to him from time to time, if only to express how you keep him in your prayers."

Alicent tries to make sense of it. She clenches her jaw, "wouldn't it be more appropriate for you to do this, father?"

He chuckles lowly, "how much sadder would he be if a widower offer another widower his bitter prayers?"

She stills at the thought and understands. Or so she thinks.

Otto smiles and places a hand on her shoulder, "it might be best if you keep private your visits to him. You need not explain your concern to Rhaenyra to further distress her."

She nods in understanding. In truth, she does not understand the true intentions of her father, and will not until it is far too late.

As this was happening, you were trying to get ahold of Daemon. You could not for he was quick to leave the funeral right after it concluded. He had seen you crying to your father and wanted to wash his eyes with alcohol, unwanting to behold such a gruesome sight. It stung far too much that you sought comfort in that cunt face. Why didn't you cry to him instead?

Daemon washes alcohol down his throat instead with members of his City Watch at his favorite brothel. Mysaria is there to keep him company and though her touch and words are gentle, he cannot find solace in them like he once did.

The two guards who had found you on the floor earlier today hear about the gathering and go to the prince to tell him what had happened to you.

"Your grace."

Daemon sulks as he stares at a cup of wine. Mysaria, who was stood behind his chair, looks at the men then to the silver haired man, "my prince. These men want to speak to you."

"Wha-what for?" he snaps through a hiccup.

"Your wife, my prince," one says.

Mysaria stiffens, lips parting. She was not a stranger to Daemon's foul moods and prided herself in easily defusing them. It changed when he married the Hightower girl. Though it was evident most of his frustrations stemmed from you, you were too much of a touchy subject, which is why she says, "I do not think he wants to talk about her."

"A whore should not meddle with concerns she cannot understand."

Mysaria scoffs, thinking about how Daemon fucked her once and called out his bride's name. When she brought it up after, he screamed, telling her he doesn't pay her to ask questions. She steps back and crosses her arms, "be my guest then."

One of the two guards lean forward in an attempt to gain the attention of the distracted man, "prince Daemon. We wished to report something regarding your wife."

Daemon ticks. He had been gazing into space, but now he has the wits to pours himself a drink, "is she dead now too?"

The two are taken aback. Mysaria steps back a few paces.

"N-no, your grace. But she-"

"Then do not FUCKING mention her to me!" Daemon snaps, jolting from his seat. His scream was loud enough to cause the noise to cease. He grabs his cup and downs his drink in one go. He then pushes past the two guards and begins to monologue.

"The gods give as the gods take," he says, voice horse and eyes misty. "Try as they may, I am not so easily replaced."

The room is solemn as they look upon the prince. He is clearly distraught and wholly drunk.

He stares at his cup, "wine does not taste sweeter with tears. Tonight, we drink to the Heir For A Day..." he burps, "perhaps he would have liked wine."

Back in the keep, as Alicent leaves her father's quarters, you go to them, which is why you cross paths. She is concerned by how you lean into ser Cargyll's arm as you walk, and immediately comes to your side, "sister?"

"Alicent," you smile, immediately perking up.

"Lady Hightower," the knight greets her.

"It's ser Erryk," you playfully whisper with a smile.

Alicent turns to you and offershim as soft smile, "ser Erryk."

"You spoke to father, surely," you take her hand, making her look back at you, "is his mood grim?"

She shakes her head, "no. He is... relatively placid, I think."

"Good," you break away from Erryk. He assures you are firmly planted on your feet before releasing you, "I can talk to him then."

"Shouldn't you rather be resting?" she asks in concern.

"It is urgent. I-" you shake your head, "I cannot delay any further."

Alicent realizes then that your hair was fully undone and slightly messy now. You were also in your thick velvet robe, and it only causes her further concern. "I know I am not Gwayne, but if there is anything you wish to speak of," she squeezes your hands, "I am hear to lend an ear."

Your lips wobble, but you steel yourself away. You crush your sister into your arms and pepper her cheeks with kisses, "my sweet girl. I am five years your senior. I must lend you my ear." You pull away and cup her cheeks. You frown when you see her glassy eyes, "do not worry for me."

She chuckles rather sadly, "we help but worry always for those we love."

Erryk heart pinches at the solemn exchange of the two sisters. He is glad to know that at least one more person in your family loved you with gentleness. He makes mental note to encourage you to write to your brother.

When Alicent leaves, you take a breath before knocking on the Hand's door.

"Enter."

You walk in and find your father busy at his desk.

"Father."

Otto looks up at you, immediately coming to stand, "what's wrong?"

You close the door behind him, catching Erryk's encouraging gaze. He nods before you shut the door. You turn to you father, finding he was already walking towards you.

He takes your hand, inspecting you. He speaks your name carefully, and it softens your frigid demeanor, "what has happened?"

You smile sadly, "I cannot sleep."

He sighs, partially relieved it is nothing so severe. He walks towards the door, "I will have one of the maids send you warm milk and honey."

"There is something I must tell you," you say, making him stop.

He turns back you, antsy over your serious tone, "if it is regarding Daemon. Do not worry. I have designs to keep him on a leash."

You release his hand and turn to your feet.

His expression hardens. He knows whatever you have to say is grave because you can no longer look at him. He steps forward and takes your cheeks, "daughter."

You look up at him, face stained with tears.

"Go to bed," he wipes your cheeks, "you'll muster the nerve to tell your husband the news soon en-"

"He does not finish inside me, father."

"..."

"I've-" you choke on your breath, "I've spoken about it to the maesters and he's explained it is possible for the seed to take root from premature ejaculation but-"

"Have you strayed?" Otto tightens his hold a fraction.

You are aghast by his statement and rapidly shake your head, "father, I wou-"

"Then there is nothing to fear," he cuts you off, brows tensing, "your child will be born with silver hair and violet eyes, and-"

"Only I inherited your hair color," you mumble, beginning to tremble, "if my child looks too much like me—" you rapidly shake your head, "he will-"

"Enough," he snaps, shaking you slightly.

You chest begins to tighten.

Otto notices and brushes your hair out of your face. He recites the common prayer you used to pray with your mother, "Seven, hear me. Father, strengthen me. Mother, protect me. Warrior, d—"

"Defend me," you sigh, joining in, "Smith, mend me."

"Mend my daughter," Otto mumbles softly.

"Maiden, beautify me," you say together, "Crone, enlighten me. Stranger, guide me."

Otto nods and strokes your hair, "now breathe."

It takes a few deep breaths, but you are calm now. He leads you to the door and opens it. "Oh, good," he says, once spotting your ward, "you're not entirely useless."

Erryk walks over to you, ignoring your father completely as he takes you by the arm.

"Take her to bed and have some warm milk and honey served to her."

"Yes, my lord," he says, though not sparing the lord a glance.

You, however, do, looking back with a soft smile, "good night, father."

He is about to reply, but then comes a servant boy, holding a plate of crackers and cheese, who freezes at the sight of the crowded entry. He thinks he's made a mistake, so he turns to leave, but Otto raises a hand and beckons the boy over, "come."

The boy walks past you, mumble a soft, "milady."

You smile and nod, "good evening."

Erryk eyes him suspiciously as he enters the room but refocuses on walking you back.

Otto closes the door and the boy places the crackers on the table. The man circles 'round to his desk and sits down, "what news do you bring me today?"

"Prince Daemon at the brothel, milord," the boy says, rolling back and forth on his heels.

The Lord Hand's face twists in contempt. He pulls his desk open and procures a cold coin.

The boy gleefully takes it and begins to explain the events that take place.

[suzukiblu]

I kind of want to try your method of posting wips a snippet at a time while writing them, but on the other hand I am nervous about it. Can you give me some advice?

I've been trying to nail down the mixed feelings, and this is what I've got so far:

for:

it will get eyes on my fics faster, and I can show off what I've written sooner, instead of needing to finish a whole chapter

it will encourage engagement both in reacting to specific posts and in asking for more

it will be more chances for people to be intrigued and want to read the whole fic

against:

what if I do it and nobody cares?

til now I've been releasing fics a chapter at a time and it would feel weird to change that. inertia and all

what do I do if/when I change something I've written and already posted a snippet of?

it feels weird to post them on my writing blog, which currently only holds finished chapters (and fanart), but if I post them on my main, I feel like they'll get lost and/or I'll miss reactions in my busy activity channel. Where should I post it to? Should I make yet another sideblog?

in direct response to your listed mixed feelings, in my personal experience of writing this way:

for:

it will get eyes on my fics faster, and I can show off what I've written sooner, instead of needing to finish a whole chapter: yes it will, and it feels great! and personally it also helps me keep momentum and helps soften the sting if I drop a fic/chapter later and people don't have much to say about it. I KNOW it's good, other people already told me they liked it!! no, I'm not gonna throw out the whole story because of one mediocre reception, SHUT UP IMPOSTER SYNDROME AND GET BACK IN THE WRITING TRENCHES.

it will encourage engagement both in reacting to specific posts and in asking for more: yes it does, and WAY more people consistently (and more gratifyingly!) engage with me since I've made a habit of posting this way, especially when they're especially interested in a specific WIP over my other ones, and a lot of people just seem to be more engaged and invested in my writing in general. or at least more willing to tell me that they are, if nothing else, haha.

it will be more chances for people to be intrigued and want to read the whole fic: yes it will, and if you post larger scenes and tag them, then more people are likelier to find you/your writing than would if you only post one chapter in the tags however often you update those. also, if you have a fic-specific WIP tag that you link to, it's very easy for people who are just discovering the WIP to go back and catch up all at once ( or for people who aren't into it to blacklist, if that's a concern, as opposed to them feeling like they have to unfollow/block you ).

against:

what if I do it and nobody cares? good news: they probably won't care! at least to start. that's just kinda how it is, to start. I get a lot of engagement because I am REAL prolific and do my best to be responsive, plus I've been updating this blog and in this specific fandom pretty consistently for over a year, and also have also been in online fandom spaces on and off for, like, legit twenty-five years at this point. so I am just very used to being in these spaces, and I also have readers who've followed me for a decade+ or even since I was an actual literal TEENAGER in at least a couple cases, so like, they're already kinda invested in my writing, haha. there are people following this blog who not only read my Inu-Yasha Miroku/Sesshoumaru fanfic back in the day in the Pit of Voles but also still REMEMBER reading my Inu-Yasha Miroku/Sesshoumaru fanfic back in the day in the Pit of Voles, to say nothing of everyone who found me through AtLA or the MCU or the Witcher ( or so, so much Star Wars meta, the Star Wars meta has also definitely been a thing ). also I update my blog pretty consistently and I do writing memes that reward the people who play with me with new content and more progress in their fave WIPs, and also they're technically "voting" for what they wanna see more of, so that also adds to them feeling engaged/invested and me feeling motivated/energized, because they feel like they've affected the growth and progress of the story ( which they have ) and I feel like they're enjoying the story and genuinely appreciate it ( which they do! ). so everyone wins!

til now I've been releasing fics a chapter at a time and it would feel weird to change that. inertia and all: yeah that is the sunk-cost fallacy trying to fuck you up and you can and should tell it to fuck off. if you try it and you don't like the change, you can just stop doing it. you're free! no one can stop you!! hit the bricks, do your thing, the past is gone and it is NOT in charge of your ass! your ass is all yours!! whatever, we do what we want! I am in fact giving you explicit PERMISSION to do what you want.

what do I do if/when I change something I've written and already posted a snippet of?: then you've changed something! if it's a major change, you can repost the updated scene or mention you're making a change in a separate post or just say there's been a significant change when you post the chapter and therefore people who've already read the WIP posts might wanna reread it, but personally I change and tweak and fiddle with stuff I've already posted all the time. usually it's just bits of phrasing or formatting or adding in little details to round stuff out or correct mistakes, or to clarify things that confused people or that I forgot about, but sometimes it's adding multiple paragraphs or even additional little scenes. it's absolutely a thing I do and a thing that I consider fair play. you're literally posting "work-in-progress" excerpts, it is in the NAME that stuff might/will change or be adjusted. shit, if you feel like it, throw the whole story out and start over with a 2.0 WIP tag!! art is meant to be fucked with!!!!

it feels weird to post them on my writing blog, which currently only holds finished chapters (and fanart), but if I post them on my main, I feel like they'll get lost and/or I'll miss reactions in my busy activity channel. Where should I post it to? Should I make yet another sideblog?: the past is gone! you are free!! it's a writing blog that is for your writing and you can write whatever you want on it. the rules are made up and the points don't matter!! if you want a WIP blog too, you can totally start a WIP blog too, but you also don't have to feel obligated to bloat your sideblog collection or to have to go to all the effort of building up a brand-new following for a brand-new blog when there's already people who followed another blog of yours specifically for your writing. it's your writing blog. it's for your writing. write on it how you please!! if you're SUPER-concerned about the change, include a specific tag on all your WIP snippets that people can just blacklist if they only wanna see your full finished updates. for example I use "rintalk" so people can skip my random talky posts/asks if they wanna but also won't accidentally be filtering out anything they DO wanna see from anyone else on their dash; they can specifically avoid just mine. so like, maybe "octo WIPs" or "nb WIPs" or just whatever you're into would work for you, or just something like that.

unrelated to your for/against: posting stuff like this is not an approach that'll give everyone the same results or even WORK for everyone, obviously, but it works for me because again, I'm prolific, responsive, tend to follow my readers' interests, and have been doing this a lonnnggggg time and have built up an audience both from past fandoms and in specifically DC fandom. and also I'm super, super ADHD. definitely also because of the ADHD. there is . . . there is just so much ADHD lol.

but yeah, like, I'm pretty sure I've been updating pretty consistently for the past . . . what, year or so of DC-hyperfixation? something like that?? I've also published over 300k to AO3 in that time and GOD knows how much more word count I've put up on Tumblr, so like . . . tl;dr, I absolutely think you should give it a try and see if it works for you/if you like it, I just also wanna include the caveat that you shouldn't be discouraged if you don't get an immediate return on or big response to said try. like, I dunno what your followers are like or how much they talk to you, obvi, but I personally had to kind of . . . cultivate, basically? I had to cultivate the communication and the back-and-forth, it didn't just happen immediately. we have cultivated, all of us here, hahaha.

for actual practical excerpt-posting advice, generally speaking, the best start I've found for starting out with posting a WIP as you write it is to take, like, the starting scene of the fic/chapter up until either a narratively-interesting/satisfying end point ( or better yet, a cliffhanger ) and post that as a WIP excerpt in the relevant tags. then you're likelier to introduce the story to new people and bring them by your blog to see more, and they'll come in both primed for and LOOKING for WIP excerpts. then, you know, you can post subsequent scenes or bits in chronological order, ideally. personally when I do WIP Wednesday or anything like that, I don't tag little posts like those in the main tags, just with a WIP tag specific to their story ( which, like, obvi you know I have those, haha, I know you've been around MORE than long enough and even if you hadn't pretty sure I already mentioned them somewhere up there anyway, I'm just being thorough ), but anything that's pushing 400-500 words or longer gets fully tagged with ships/characters/fandom/etc and gets chrono/non-chrono links included in the post and then sent out into the world as my lil' story ambassador, haha. just, you know, use a cut or at least a "long post" tag if it's much longer than that, because like, Tumblr manners and all, hah.

ummmmm . . . so yeah idk how much of that was helpful for you, obviously, but if you have follow-up questions or anything, feel free to hit me up, I'm always down for those and I'll do my best to answer!

[haveateadude]

what did you give me to make my heart bleed out my chest?

summary *. ⋆ ⋆·˚ cait 'visits' vi on her emo era

warnings *. ⋆ ⋆·˚ not proofread!!! mentions of alcohol, being drunk, and fighting as a way of punishment?? i think that's it lol

author notes *. ⋆ ⋆·˚ sorry if this is out of character. i tried my best!! really enjoyed writing this one.

OH AND HUGEEEE CREDITS TO WHOEVER DID THE FANART OF CAITLYN MEETING WITH VI WHEN SHE WAS EMO😭😭 and i think caitlyn said something like "this is what you're up to?".

i can't find the fanart ANYWHERE. if someone has it, tag the account pleaseeeeeee🙏🙏 it's the whole reason i wrote this!!!

with that being said, i hope y'all enjoy :))

Her knuckles never hurt. 

As she’s curled up on her so very cold bed, around bottles of alcohol, she realizes her knuckles never hurt because she never really pays attention to them. Never has a reason to, either—she always focuses more on the rage than on the pain, too angry to focus on how her joints feel when she moves them. But lately they never stop hurting and, and her body never stops aching. Especially on that one spot; the one that was left bruised and bloody. The one where Caitlyn had hit her—the worst part is that she’s had worse. She was on fucking prison, for fuck's sake. 

Vi never liked showing weakness, but lately is all she knows, all she is. Weak. Her mind is plagued with it. Every time she’s alone with her thoughts, she just goes: weak weak weak weak weak weakweakweakweakweakweakweak—until she’s too drunk to think. Too drunk to stay steady on her feet that she has to lay down, and then falls asleep until she has a nightmare.

She lies on her back, her head heavy. Pain creeps up behind her eyes. She blinks. Lifts her hand and opens her palm, then closes it. It hurts. She ignores it and sits up, drinking up of the alcohol left in the bottle that she almost finished yesterday. She thanks God she didn’t, or else she doesn’t know what she would’ve done to wake up.

She sighs when someone knocks on her door.

Great, she thinks, sarcastically. Another fight. Right what I needed.

Okay, maybe not what she needs, but what she deserves. She deserves to hurt. To be thrown around like some kind of trash bag and punched until she's coughing up blood. And she fights back. She fights back because that's what the people like, the people who come to see her want her to win, and she wins and wins and wins. And she likes it. Some sick twisted part of her likes to win, to hear the praise, to know she's not letting people down but making them cheer.

Maybe another fight wasn’t what she needed. She wins, but at what cost? Her limbs are sore as fuck. But, still, today is a good day. Today is better than other days. Sometimes she wakes up with her chest burning in grief after a nightmare, and all she wants to do is fight. All she wants to do is put her fists to work. All of her anxiety and pain focused on anger. But she won the fight and people cheered for her more than they booed her. She’s at the bar, already a couple of drinks in. She didn’t have a nightmare today. Today is a good day.

Except, 

it isn’t. 

And she knows it.

Deep into her bones, she knows today wasn’t a good day. Or—well, she hasn’t had a good day for a long time, really. She can't catch a fucking break, can she? All her life has been followed by a tragedy on top of another tragedy on top of another and so on. Her parent's death, Vanders death, the little trip to prison, her sister turning Jinx, knowing what she thought was the love of her life hit her. And god, it hurts. This isn't the hurting that heals. This isn't a "good" type of hurting. This is the hurting that poisons, the one that makes you want to kneel on the floor and scream until you pass out. The one that makes you feel dizzy when you think about it. The one that makes you want to drink. The want that makes you think: stop. Stops stop stop. Because it hurts. And once you do, you won't stop hurting. 

Yeah. She probably should stop drinking. 

Who's there to stop her, anyway? Well—there was Loris. Until she got too angry one night and lashed out on him. And Vi? Fuck, she's good at making people angry. She was an older sister once, she knows a thing or two about choosing the right words to hurt people, to make them mad. To make them go quiet.

When she wakes up to a hand on her cheek, she thinks she's hallucinating.

It's not the first time. It's been happening a lot, the hallucinations. It's usually when she's drunk. It makes her feel crazy every time she catches a glimpse of Caitlyn, just looking at her with that look she though was love. What she thought was love, care, belonging. And every time it happens, she's reminded of all the things it wasn't. Was it even love, in the first place? Where the secret glances, soft touches, words spoken… nothing?

Vi blinks. Caitlyn is still there. She looks so… different. That's not her Caitlyn, Vi realizes. She looks hot, like always, but she has a weird look on her face that Vi has never seen. Is she confused? Sad? It looks very tender, though. It still has that touch of intimacy Caitlyn's eyes always reflected.

"I shouldn't be here," the Caitlyn speaks, standing up. Her hand leaves Vi's face, a sense of warmth leaving her cheek. Vi head is hurting. She blinks again. Shit. The hallucination is taking its time to leave. Vi mumbles something against her pillow. er mind still foggy with sleep. "Ambessa sent me on a mission, if she finds out I'm missing she'll kill me."

The Caitlyn brings a cloth near Vi's face, but she quickly pushes it away as she sits up. That's not her Caitlyn. That can't be. But she looks so different and real and Vi just pushed her hand away and Caitlyn looks surprised. It's not a hallucination, that she knows.

Vi's first reaction is to stare at her, just wide-eyed, lips slightly parted.

Caitlyn's shoulders slump as she reaches one more time to wipe Vi's face. There's a bucket next to the bed, and the white cloth she's holding looks clean. Vi has no idea where this all came from. She lets Caitlyn, who is avoiding her gaze, wipe her face.

"So, this is what you've been up to?" Caitlyn asks, dumping the cloth now black into the water, trying to clean it. "Getting yourself killed?"

"As if you're doing so much better," VI retorts.

Caitlyn reaches out to clean Vi's face again. Her hand drops to her side after. A beat. Then, "I'm done being angry."

Vi's quick to speak, "Well, I'm not."

"Of course you're not. I'm just letting you know. I don't—" Caitlyn stops talking. She takes a deep breath, still not meeting Vi's eyes. "Look, I'm sorry, okay? For everything—"

"Sorry isn't going to cut it."

"Would you let me speak." She looks up, now eye to eye with her, finally. The cloth drops to the water. "Please, Vi."

"You don't need to apologize. What are you doing here, anyway?"

"I told you, Ambessa sent me."

"So you just follow her around and do what she says?"

"It's not like that."

"Then what is it?!" She raises her voice. "You're completely different, Caitlyn. I'm not going to treat you the same just because you came here to… what? Check up on me? I don't even know what you're doing here. I thought I'd never—"

I thought I'd never see you again.

The words hang unspoken on the air. Vi really though she was never going to see Caitlyn again, and now she's here. Caitlyn is here, and she's taking care of Vi for some reason.

"I'm not even mad at you," Vi continues. She has the painful urge to touch Caitlyn, touch her face, put her hands on her hips, kiss her. This so she can convince herself Caitlyn is here and she's real and she hasn't left. She's glad more than she's mad, and it's pissing her off. She sits closer to Caitlyn. She doesn't deserve apologies, doesn't deserve anything that's close to good.

When Vi gets close enough to Caitlyn, when she can feel her soft breath against her face—when she thinks that another chance is so close she can feel it against her fingertips, that there can be another chance to mend amends, Caitlyn twists the knife.

"Vi?" She says, softly.

"Yeah?"

"I'm seeing someone else."

Vi pulls away, breath slightly panted. She can't speak, there are no words left to say. She's completely, utterly alone. She's so stupid for thinking she wasn't. But, again, it's always been like this. She should've seen it coming.

Caitlyn stops looking at her once more.

"Who?" It is what she manages to speak.

"Maddie."

Vi looks away from Caitlyn. She doesn't know if she wants to cry or laugh. "You said Ambessa would kill you if she finds you here, you should leave."

"You're right." Caitlyn clears her throat, standing up.

And before Caitlyn walks away, Vi decides to say one last thing.

"She's not going to love you like I do."

"What?" Caitlyn turns around, eyes on Vi like she's hoping for something that won't come—doesn't exist.

"She's not going to love you like I did. But good luck out there, cupcake."

[tessabennet]

Hello my friends

So. It's been five years, give or take. There was a worldwide pandemic, I got two and a half-ish degrees, I got diagnosed with epilepsy, I lost my dad and my grandpa, I worked various jobs, international politics have been nothing short of awful for a long time now... Yeah. It's been stressful, the whole time I was writing What I'm Looking For.

And in all this time, in between all of that, working on this massive project has been a comfort that I can't even begin to describe. This was something I could dive into when I was at my worst, in all this time, even when it felt like this series was the only thing that I was doing well. It was something that kept me going and that I'm proud of having finished.

Having said this much, I don't want to make some stupid kind of speech about being done with posting now. For most people, this is probably not as big a deal as it is for me. But I totally will make this a speech, because I have some things to say that mean too much to me to leave them unsaid.

You may already know that I first started writing These City Walls as an excercise to practice writing dialogue. At the time, a lot of what I did came from a place of frustration, with myself and especially with the MCU. But the more I worked on it, the more I realised that this fanfic stuff wasn't going to be a one-time thing, and I'm glad I decided to make this a longer series. And it kept getting longer, the more I thought about, outlined, and finally wrote it.

And throughout this whole journey, there were people that I want to mention, now that we're at the end of it. Starting with girlbookwrm, whose Hundred Year Playlist was the initial inspiration for huge chunks of this series (please go read it, it'samazing). And then, I have to mention @jesuschristtakethewheel, who was my beta reader for the first two parts of the series, and who encouraged me to start publishing it in the first place. I also have to say a huge thank you to @the-littlefangirl, who I've only gotten to know because of this series, who occasionally served as my test audience, and who, I can honestly say, is one of my best friends today.

There's a lot more people I want to thank, and those are my amazing, incredible, wonderful, and lovely regular commenters. You guys have been a rock for me to hold on to for so long. There's @haluton with their excited (and at times incoherent) screaming at me, there's @numberonestuckyshipper with her never-ending kindness to me and my writing, there's @smlmsworld who never gets tired of recommending my work, there's @hipsterdiva who approaches my fanfic like it's an actual piece of literature that deserves analysing, there's @mythicalmxyhem who's been with my series from so early on, and there's @radicalpeachie who made amazing fanart for me. I only know a lot of people here because this fic made me part of the stucky community. And then on AO3, there's PanamaRed, Jo_Dee, kawherp, saturns_moons, SaphDragon494, helloilovefanfiction, TylOcephale, AlwaysAkin, shakleton2, dxzei, Shinigami24, thisisalright, theearthisntflatatall, kingandlionheart, crazyjane, machka, and many, many more that I'm really, really scared of forgetting here. If you guys are here on tumblr, please let me know so I can follow you. And to anyone else reading this: if somehow you aren't on this list but feel like you should be, I agree that you should and apologise. Believe me, I recognised your name in my emails every time and I love you very, very much!

I can never thank you guys enough for the praise and support I've gotten from you over the years. Every single comment still means the world to me, and I'll no doubt always go back to them when I'm feeling bad or need a boost in confidenc. My life will definitely change now that I probably won't wake up to all those lovely comments as often anymore.

This is exactly why I'll be selfish and ask anyone who might still read or reread the series to consider leaving more comments and kudos. Or if you want to, feel free to create fanart and link it to the fic. Consider this my blanket statement: you can translate it, podfic it (you'll be my hero if you do that actually), make playlists, write your own spin-off based on it - just please link it to the series and let me know so I can share it too. It would mean the world to me if you don't let this fic die just yet.

(Also, just as a shot in the dark: In case you know someone who works at Disney or Marvel or happens to be a talent scout for publishers, please recommend me and my writing to them. That would be the cooles possible thing to come out of all this.)

In the meantime, I'll keep writing. I've been working more on original stuff this whole year, and if I ever publish a "real" book, I'll be sure to let you know. And more recently I've also been toying with some ideas for possible spin-off stories in the What I'm Looking For universe, so who knows? Whatever they could be, those fics probably wouldn't me stucky-centric. But maybe I'll write and publish them at some point - you never know.

For now, this is it anyway. And I don't want to be didactic or patronizing about this in any way. It's just, if there's even one thing you can take away from my version of this story and these characters, I hope it's that there's nuance in the world. Perspective matters, empathy matters, and so does understanding. And with that in mind, I think there's hope. I have to believe that, no matter how dark and dire the world seems at times. Steve and Bucky managed to go back to Brooklyn. We'll be fine too.

So yes, for now this is it. And for a while now I've been thinking about how to say goodbye to this fic. I still don't know. I'm not sure I want to. And I definitely don't want to say goodbye to all the lovely people I got to know, all the amazing friends I made because of it. And if you want to, you can come talk to me whenever you like, I really mean that. My asks are open and you can dm me any time. You guys have been the greatest audience I could've asked for. I wasn't expecting anything when I started posting - never could I have imagined that one day my stupid writing exercise would mean so much to some people. I love you all, each and every one. I'll miss you.

And finally, now that I'm all emotional about this anyway, I'll say this last thing: next year's gonna be different, but that doesn't mean it can't be a good year. I hope it will be, for all of us. Please stick around. I love you so much, and you mean the world to me. So - goodbye, guys. And, from all my heart: Happy New Year 💜

[mythicmanuscripts]

ooh could we see jace in subdrop? I know you did one when he’s on the edge, but I think he’s just super stressed and delicate and such a darling and would need you to give him the softest care and bring him back up if he slipped? Honestly would love your thoughts on subdrop and care for Aegon and aemond too!

Aw poor darling Jace, why do we love torturing him so much 😭. But I am very much in agreement with all of you I love this.

It's not really NSFW, but since sexual activity is implied and it's most certainly sub!Jace I'll hide it under a cut anyway

So firstly, just as a quick refresher: Jace is such a sensitive, soft little thing. He acts tough around everyone else, but the moment he gets turned on he becomes so sensitive. He cums so so easily and then afterwards he's usually sensitive and so overwhelmed to the point where cumming isnt even fun anymore. Until he gets with someone who can hold him afterwards, who calls him pretty and kisses his head and wipes away his tears. So in conclusion: sweet darling Jace who gets so overwhelmed so quickly. He used to hate it, but he slowly grows to enjoy it more and more when he's with someone who can help him. Right now that we've had that little catch up, let's get on to the actual ask :))

I definitely agree that Jace can go into subdrop very easily. Usually his saving grace is that it's always very very obvious when he's close to a subdrop, so if you're with him you can always tell and usually just having your sole attention for a little while can keep him off the edge, especially if he can have skin to skin contact.

But of course that can't always happen and even when it does, it doesn't always work.

I think that Jace can be pretty affected by things that happen outside of the bedroom and bring that in with him? Like if he's feeling stressed or pressured or just generally upset then he tends to be even harder on himself than usual and tends to get even more sensitive and overwhelmed afterwards. Over time he learns it's safe for him to warn you about this, you won't be angry or refuse to be with him.

But of course there are plenty of times before that happens where Jace drops deep into subdrop out of pretty much nowhere.

He was so stressed before he retired to your shared chambers, so thoroughly rattled by whatever had happened that day. Being his mother's heir is a heavy burden on him, even more so now that he's lost one of his brothers.

He's not the type of person that can leave his problems at the threshold of your shared quarters and just relax. He can't let go of it unless you help him.

It's the worst when he thinks he's done something wrong. It's extremely common because Jace's default seems to be to blame himself for anything and everything that goes wrong, even when he had nothing to do with whatever happened.

That's what happened on one of the worst of his drops. He had just come home from a mission on Vermax and he barely had anything to report. He felt like the trip was wasted, like he could have been doing something better for his mother. At the very least he thought he should be bringing home more news than he had.

The only reason he actually came back and didnt stay on to try and gather more information is that he promised you he'd be back by a certain date and he refused to miss it. He refused to allow you or his mother to wonder if he'd died somewhere along the way.

Of course you're just overjoyed to see him, as is his mother, and no one on the small council has any criticism for him. He did his absolute best and he came back alive, that's all anyone could ever ask of him. But he doesn't see it that way.

You immediately know something must be very wrong when he doesn't retire to bed with you. Normally after dinner he's like your shadow, refusing to leave your side and trying to herd you closer and closer to your chambers to relax with you. This time, when you get up from the dinner table he doesn't even look at you, never mind get up or ask to come with.

He only retires to bed much much later, at a time when he thought you would already he asleep. You arent of course, you'd never sleep knowing any moment he could walk in and need you. This backfires though, because realising his actions had resulted in you having to lose sleep ends up being the final nail in the coffin and he drops hard.

Usually you only have to watch out for subdrop after sex, but you can by the way tears well up in the corners of his eyes and his breathing becomes shaky that he's dropping. You get up quick and pull him into your arms, trying to give him some comfort but it's too late. The poor darling had been far too stressed for far too long.

You quickly realise you can't talk him out of this and so you stop trying immediately. You don't want him to feel like he's failing you by not being able to walk himself back off the ledge.

Instead, you undress him as gently as you can, making sure to touch his skin very very softly. You leave his undergarments on, knowing better than to touch Jace anywhere near there when his this upset.

He just stands there and breathes. He tries to keep his breathing even and slow but he's shaking at every exhale. You don't mention it, instead just gently removing his clothes and then puling him into bed.

The moment you get into bed next to him, he's practically flying to your side of the bed. He hides his face in your shoulder and he won't move enough for you to look at his face. He's shaking ever so slightly as you gently rub his back and promise him that he can stay like that for as long as he wants.

For Jace, handling subdrop is all about slow, predictable movements to not overwhelm him. Nothing can be a surprise. He needs to fall into a routine he knows and has comfort in, needs to know you won't touch him or do anything to him that he doesn't expect.

He ends up falling asleep like that, and in the morning when he wakes the first things he does is apologise to you. You, naturally, kiss him softly and promise him that he has absolutely nothing to be sorry for and that you're just so happy he's back and safe.

You end up telling everyone else that you and Jace will not be leaving your chambers that day. Even though Jace is no longer in subgroup, you can see how sensitive and vulnerable he is. You know he'll drop like a stone if anyone says anything even slightly critical of him, even if it's just in passing or as a joke.

The next day when you wake there are three giant bouquets of flowers in your chambers, Jace's way of saying thank you.

(He learnt his lesson from the weapon debacle and got flowers this time otherwise his mother may genuinely feed him to Syrax)

[lilacerull0]

i feel like reading/watching mbf immediately means knowing who i am as a person and... i cannot allow this

[dolokhoded]

the bad part about apostledesigning is that i have twelve different dudes the keep track of and since the references are Currently Being Made there are no references how the fuck am i supposed to remember how tall matthew is and what colors i assigned to little james be so for real

[medicinemane]

Never think that I've stopped talking about Ukraine or that I've forgotten

I follow things every day, every day hoping for some kind of miracle that means the fighting is over, russia will leave every inch of Ukrainian soil, no more bombings... but... I know it's probably some time off... I'm not stupid, I just hope people can stop dying

I follow it every day, hear all the horrible news, keep up to date with things like the Kursk counteroffensive where Ukraine has taken a great deal of russian territory (which shows russia has no red lines)

I just don't share most of what I see on here because I don't want people to get fatigued... there's so many horrible things going on in the world, I don't want to burn people out

I'd rather someone be active and able to do a little than having to just turn off and disengage with everything to avoid losing it

All I ask is that you support Ukraine, they're just trying to exist. Just trying to live normal lives. I just hope you can support the "no civilians deserve to be bombed" platform, and say they don't deserve to be bombed by russia

If you've ever got any questions, it's not like I'm an expert, it's not like I'm living it, but I do follow things every day and it often seems like I know stuff other westerners haven't hear about... so ask away

Anyway, just never think that just cause it's been a bit since I mentioned Ukraine that they're not still on my mind

You hear less for your sake, but I keep coming back every day, and even I don't remotely see the true scale and horror of it, only snippets of... photos, videos, stories people share online

[stillresolved]

🚩🚩🚩 GIB

@ptternminds / send me a 🚩 and i'll share... prompt.

muses are not people and should not be written as such. and what i mean by that is that while there technically is no such thing as too much character development, it is possible to have a character with lots of hcs but still be underdeveloped if those hcs don't contribute in some way to the character's overall arc. people in rl are contradictions and don't necessarily have to have likes and dislikes that match up...characters, however, i do think need to be consistent to some degree in order for their characterization to remain consistent. i guess what i'm trying to say is that when i say i look for character development in the blogs i follow, i'm not necessarily looking for quantity so much as quality...less of lots of character development and more of tight character development.

so many people talk about how they want to have that one partner who you can have like 48290348 ships with and talk well in the wee hours of the morning...i always wonder if they realize, like those kinds of connections usually don't appear overnight? like, of course there needs to be a spark, but it takes time and patience to build that kind of trust and familiarity and at least in my case, with the ones i have tons of dynamics, it took months ( sometimes even years ) of following to even make that spark...

this does not apply to everyone who writes on here, BUT...a good chunk of tumblr writers would not make it in the professional writing world/publication side. for one thing, writing prose can be very different from writing rp and even rp drabbles. prose needs a plot, major events happening where rp threads and drabbles don't have to have them or tend to write the moments around those events. and two, you need to be open to feedback and criticism of your work even if it does sting. i'm not saying you need to be a doormat to people who give bad criticism/are straight up mean, but i have seen way too many writers on here who are just?? either egotistical about their writing to the point they're can't see the flaws in their own work or so insecure about their writing, they go seeking only praise...neither of those groups of people will ever actually work to improve their craft. and thus over the years their writing never grows. the process of publishing is one of critique, revision, and tons of rejection; neither of those kinds of writers would make it out there.

[thebean-17]

Always take it as a red flag that when you get into an argument with your partner and they continuously start calling you names, insulting you, and telling you how you're the one with the attitude problem without ever apologizing or changing that behaviour immediately, RUN.

I've experienced this numerous times myself, and it's something no one deserves. While setting boundaries, like saying, "If I'm insulted one more time, I'm walking away from this argument (or leaving entirely)," can help, some abusers are more cunning. No matter how many boundaries you establish, they might see it as a challenge to break them down repeatedly. They don't take no for an answer. They won't take no as an answer.

[david-watts]

I have hated going into the backyard for a while now for a few different reasons but er. figured out the main reason since we tore down the old dog run. it's because I'm only allowed to be out there if I can be used somehow