#i've been trying to keep up with my goal of reading more

[septimusmoonlight]

You doing ok?

hi

[neil-gaiman]

I hope this finds you well. Today is the 10th anniversary of my sister's death. She died unexpectedly when she was 20, and I was 13. My sister was so full of energy and compassion for others. She befriended probably well over a hundred people, and knew each of them by name. She taught me something that I think is demonstrated really well in Coraline (and reading it reminded me of her)--that courage is not fearlessness, but it's being afraid and standing up to that fear regardless. Off and on since she died (though more on than off in the past 5ish years), I've struggled with depression and a feeling of pointlessness in my life. The realization that someone that vibrant can suddenly vanish off the Earth has never left me. And I don't shine nearly as bright as she did. It feels like no matter what I do, I'll never leave a significant impact. I've had a lot of difficulty with college, and I'm on my second leave of absence since starting my undergraduate studies. I don't really have any career goals and have had trouble finding a career path that would be interesting and fulfilling enough to me to feel like I could stick with it long enough to make a living. But I've been doing everything I can to keep going and keep trying to get to a more stable place emotionally. To finally find my footing. Every night before I turn in I like to look at your posts on here. I find the words and advice you give to others very comforting. So, I'd first like to thank you for sharing your kindness and humor with everyone. And I'd also like to ask if you'd have any kind words or advice for me. Thanks for your time.

The main thing you should probably remember is that from the inside your sister didn't realise how bright and sparkling and energetic and compassionate she was either. We know ourselves from the inside, see only too well our pain and clumsiness, our depressions and our failures.

She was a light for you. You'd be surprised to find that you are a light for others. You shine. (Whoever you are reading this, I promise you this: you shine, and you will leave your own impact on the world.)

[youryanderedaddy]

tw: female reader, obsessive behavior, captivity, fantasy lore, abuse, murder mention, suggestive (?)

"You seem to be upset."

He's leaning against the window not too far away from you. Not too close as well - just far enough for you to feel at ease.

"Aren't you a mind - reader." You respond under your breath, trying to focus on the book you're currently reading - but the letters are escaping you, and you find yourself re-reading the same paragraph for the third time. He sighs, much like a disappointed father, before stepping towards you. And if you flinch just slightly, he doesn't pretend to notice or care.

"What is wrong, my flower?" The man gestures theatrically, soft velvet voice unbecoming of the monster he is flowing easily into the open air. You don't know what to say, really. It's been two years - or so you think, there is no way to keep track of time in this kingdom, not that time goes the same way in the elfen world as it does in the human, yet the part of you still capable of logical thought seems to think so. Two years, and there is very little you haven't already said. Very little left to be said, so your conversations are mostly rehearsed repetitions of what you already know. What you already fear - that you're going to die here. Or even worse. That you've become incapable of aging, so very consumed by this foreign land you detest that you've given up death for a life of boring, purposeless immortality.

"Don't I shower you with lavish gifts?" The noble moves closer, stalking towards you - observing you as if you're a butterfly pinned to a wooden frame under a microscope. "Don't I buy you the shiniest jewels? Not even the queen herself owns such sparkling emeralds." He scoffs, painfully used to your lack of response. You clear your throat, turning a new page - having little to recall about the last. It's completely meaningless just like all the other pages in all the other books you read. How funny, you think. In that distant, dreamy past of yours you were too busy to read - busy with work, busy with family, busy with friends. Busy with life. Now nothing gets in the way of your reading, you have all the time in the world - but there's no one to share the knowledge with. No one to spoil the ending. No time limits. No goal to it all, no final destination. So you read, and you soak the pages with salty tears not remembering a word.

"I am grateful for all the treasures you give me, my Lord." You answer nonchalantly, keeping your pointer at the end of the paper in a desperate attempt to find the sentence exactly where you left it off. You can feel him move closer to you - and the only indication of your growing fear are the shivers that travel down your spine with the beat of your violently full, thumping heart.

"Don't I provide you with all the entertainment your little human heart could possibly bear?" The duke clicks his long sharp nails together once against the other - an ugly metallic sound echoes deep into the ceiling reminiscent of a dying forest clow. "There has never been a lack of wine or music or dance in my court. I've gifted you more golden dresses than you can wear in this life. I've written you more poems than you can read." He keeps going, describing every little thing he's done for you, despite the fact that you've never asked for any of it.

"I admire your taste for indulgence, my Lord." You repeat almost automatically, the praises sitting on your tongue just waiting to be spilt from parted honey lips. Your eyes are glued to the book, but you've given up on reading long ago. Now you're simply trying not to cry - focusing your eyes at one word at a time and blinking repeatedly, manically, feeling as if the world with end the moment you let him see your weakness. You can't believe you still have so much pain in you - enough to feel loss and anger and, what's even worse, hope. Hope that one day you'll be free again.

"And tell me, flower—" His fist wraps around your low ponytail, forcing you to look up at him and meet his eyes for the first time tonight. What's staring back at you might as well be the bottom of the ocean itself, misty and dark, cold and unknown. Human eyes convey so much affection - so much care that you can never mistake it for anything else. With elves it's different - you can spend centuries looking for a hint of kindness, and you'll only get lost in those beatiful bottomless pits. Shiny and sparkling and completely empty. "Don't I give you love? Don't I embrace you tightly every night?" His voice lowers dangerously, barely above a whisper.

"I don't understand what more you could possibly want. Should I prove myself to you? Should I slay a dragon for you? Perhaps I could tie the heads of your enemies with a pretty bow and give them to you as a wedding gift, hmm?" He's babbling incoherently, nails digging into your scalp with unyealding grip. "Would that finally, finally make you happy, beloved?"

"No, no, please let go." You cry out in agony, wriggling out of his hold - but he's too strong, too massive to move. "I'm happy, I'm—" You sob pitifully, weakly pushing at his chest. "I'm happy with you. Please, you make me so happy, just please let go. And please don't hurt anyone."

He slowly pulls away, chest heaving in and out wildly. The scariest part is always his face. It remains unbothered - cold and defined like a statue of a god, his true feelings hidden by a mask of barely contained rage.

"You're happy with me?" He raises an eyebrow, foot stomping on the ground impatiently. You nod hesitantly, too shaken up to comprehend what you're even agreeing to. "Then prove it. Show me just how happy I make you." He grabs your wrist, pulling you face-first into his hard chest. "Do it, and I might reconsider my other more... inhumane methods of courtship." His lips twist into a cruel smirk. "And may the Gods help you."

As you sink to your knees you try to think of what book to read next - but no title comes to mind.

[channieschaoscorner]

First Meeting - Stray Kids x female!9th member reader

*Prequel to Tipping Point*

Pairing: ot8!Skz x 9th member reader, platonic Chan x reader

Summary: During one of Chan’s lives, he tells the story of how you met.

Genre: Fluff, platonic love, maybe slight Chan x reader again if you squint hard enough but idk the reader is running away from me at this point and doing her own thing.

A/N: Thank you so much to the anon who requested this one, this is the prequel to Tipping Point of how Chan met our lovely 9th member. As always thank you for all your love and support on my work, please send in any ideas or requests that you might have and I hope you enjoy!!!!!

Prequel to Tipping Point

Masterlist

────୨ৎ────

Chan threw his head back and laughed as he read the questions during his live.

“Who wrote ‘Red Lights’? Hyunjin. Hyunjin did.” He nodded.

“Who wrote “I Like It? That would be Y/N. I don't know what children I've raised, you guys need to talk to them about that.”

He could hear the scramble in the hallway and braced himself for what was coming as the door to his room flew open.

“You liar!”

You burst through his door and shoved him out of frame, he didn’t even fight back. Chan landed on the floor laughing as you attempted to do damage control with what he said.

“I did not write ‘I Like It’ Stay, please do not listen to a word this man says. He doesn’t even know what he’s saying.” You begged. “He’s just trying to cover up his own lyrics and he needs to take responsibility for them-will you shut up?!”

Chan was still in stitches on the floor, he knew there was no taking back what he’d said and that Stay would run with it now. He could picture the comments flying in and couldn’t hold back his glee. He crawled back up, wiping at his eyes to be met by your very unimpressed face and crossed arms.

“They believe you, you’re actually the worst.”

“You love me really.” He teased.

“I don’t, you’re a demon. I regret ever joining this group.” You tried to keep a straight face but the corners of your mouth twitched. In an effort to move on, you turned your attention back to the comment section.

I can’t believe Chan exposed Y/N like that

I love them

They’re so funny together

Welcome to IDidn’tWriteTheLyricsRacha Y/N!!!!!!

Actual friendship goals

How did you guys become friends?

“How did you guys become friends?” You repeated. “Have you never told the story of how we met?”

Chan shook his head.

“Go on, you tell it better.” You encouraged him, leaning back to listen about how you’d met your best friend.

────୨ৎ────

*Flashback to your trainee days*

Chan rubbed his face, hoping to wake himself up slightly but there was no point. It was closing in on 2am and he’d been in here since this morning. He admitted defeat and started to pack away his laptop. He closed the studio door and paused.

Was that music?

It was faint but it was definitely there. He assumed someone had left their phone hooked up to a speaker or something because no one would still be here at this time. He was so used to being alone in the building that he pushed the door of the practice room open with no hesitation, only to be greeted with the sight of someone dancing.

That someone being you.

“Oh!” He froze. “I’m sorry, I didn’t think anyone was here.” He bowed down in apology, mortified at how he’d just marched in.

“That’s ok!” You smiled warmly at him. “I don’t blame you, I shouldn’t still be here right now but monthly evaluations are coming up and I want to be perfect.”

“You’re a trainee?”

You nodded and bowed, introducing yourself to him. “I’m Y/N.”

“I’m Chris, but most people just call me Chan. It’s nice to meet you, I’m sorry again. I’ll let you get back to practising.”

Chan left after that, but that wasn’t the last time you saw him. In fact, you started noticing him more. In the hallways between practices, the days you left the building before him, seeing him sit on his own to eat. You wanted to go up and speak to him but seeing everyone else give him a wide berth made you hesitate. He seemed nice enough that night but maybe that was just him being polite, maybe he wasn’t one for friends. So you didn’t speak though, not until he found his way back to a practice room in the middle of the night again.

A knock on the door made you pause. “Come in?”

Chan poked his head round the door. “I didn’t just want to barge in again but I heard the music.”

“Sorry, is it too loud? I can lower it down, I’m just used to practising late and no one being here.”

“No no it’s ok! Actually I was just… I wanted to see if… If maybe…If you…” He was tripping over his own words and rubbing his ear. You could practically feel the anxiety rolling off him right now.

“If I?” You prompted.

“IfeelreallyguiltythatIdidn’tmakesureyougothomeoktheotherdayandI’msorry.” The words fell out of his mouth, quicker than he seemed to anticipate.

You blinked trying to process what he’d said.

“I feel guilty that I didn’t check to make sure you were ok going home on your own the other day and I’m sorry.” He tried again. “I just wanted to check and see if you needed me to walk you back or anything because it’s late. But it’s ok if you don’t or maybe you’re not comfortable with that, it’s not like we’re friends. I mean you don’t even really know me, I just wanted-“ He was starting to ramble again and word vomit.

“That would be great actually.” You interrupted.

He visibly relaxed and smiled, you resisted the urge to comment on his dimples “Ok cool, I can go grab my stuff and I’ll come back.”

He left so you could pack your stuff up, you were glad he’d come back. You’d been contemplating approaching him whenever you saw him but he always looked so busy and at times intimidating. You knew he wasn’t very friendly with other trainees, you weren’t sure why but now you knew it wasn’t because he was an unfriendly person. Unfriendly people don’t offer to walk other people home just to make sure they’re safe.

You waited outside the practice room for him and smiled when he came down the hallway. “You ready?”

You walked in silence for a while before he broke it, “How are you feeling about the evaluations?”

“Nervous, it’s my first one. They gave us a few months to settle in before starting the evaluations.”

“You’ll be fine, they’re intense but just listen to their feedback and you’ll do well.”

You nodded. “It’s a group and individual evaluation so they’ll see me a few times.”

“That’s good, you have a chance to really show them what you can do.”

He gave you some more advice on the walk home, which you happily accepted. It was nice to be able to talk to someone who’d already been through this. He told you about joining 2 years ago, leaving Australia and his family but how he hoped it would all be worth it once he debuted. He offered his number to you once you got to your dorm.

“Just in case you’re rehearsing late again and need me to walk you home.”

────୨ৎ────

You settled into this routine then, one of you would text at some point in the day to see if you were staying late and you started to coordinate the nights so you always had company for the walk home. You felt more comfortable heading up to the studio to get him once it reached a certain time, always concerned about his lack of sleep. He was more than able though to turn the lecture back to you reminding you that it took more energy to dance into the early hours of the morning than produce. Despite knowing you were in the practice room drilling your routines for the evaluation, you wouldn’t let him see.

“I want it to be a surprise. You need to see it with everyone else for the first time.”

That was how Chan found himself waiting with other trainees and staff to watch the evaluations of the new trainees.

“I heard there’s a girl here that JYP wants to come down and see personally, he loved her audition but she’s not even meant to be that great of a singer.” Chan heard someone gossiping. “It was her dancing that got her in, said he hasn’t seen a dancer like her in years.”

Chan stopped paying attention, he’d spotted you warming up in the corner. You waved shyly at him, trying not to attract too much attention which was hard because you were currently sat in the splits looking far too comfortable.

“Are you friends with him?” A girl in your evaluation group asked.

You looked up at her. “Erm, kind of?”

“How?” She pressed.

“We bumped into each other, just got talking.” You held back on telling her how you’d actually met for more than one reason. One, you didn’t want it known that you stayed late to practice most nights. That time was your safe haven and two, you didn’t want your time with your time with Chan interrupted. The idea of others joining in on that made something stick in your throat. You coughed to try and shift the feeling but it wouldn’t leave you.

In fact, that uncomfortable feeling stayed with you right until the staff announced they would begin the evaluations. They were starting off with groups first then moving onto individual performances. The groups were more strutted, dancing, singing, stage presence. Everything you would need if you were going to debut in a group, but the individual evaluations is what you were looking forward to. You’d been allowed some leeway with this one as it was your first and were allowed to just perform a chosen skill e.g. singing, rapping or yours, dance.

The door opened and the room fell silent as JYP took a seat. You’d heard people gossiping that he might come to watch and give his opinion but it had all been rumours, nothing confirmed until he walked right through the door. He was truthful as the groups performed, telling them what they needed to work on, what was done well and if needs be, what went completely wrong. Your hands were trembling listening to him speak, your mouth had gone dry and no matter how much water you drank none of it helped. He waved the group away and called out the next one.

Yours.

You took your place, your eyes searched the room until you found Chan again. He offered you a small smile when he realised you’d been scanning the room, he nodded encouragingly. The music started and your body went into autopilot. The moves came naturally but that wasn’t because you enjoyed them. If you had to be honest, you’d say that girl group choreography just wasn’t your style. It was too delicate, too cutesy, not you. That didn’t matter though, this is what you needed to do in order to debut and so you’d do it without complaint.

You hit your final positions and then lined up in front of the staff to listen to their feedback. It was all similar.

“Danced well together.”

“Timing is good.”

“Need to be cleaner in some moves.”

It was JYP that you held your breath for, he spoke to the others first before finishing with you. He was helpful but firm, they all nodded and absorbed his feedback, taking in every word.

“Y/N.”

You felt like you couldn’t breathe.

“I expected more.”

That was it. He offered no other feedback before you were dismissed and sat back down. He expected more? What did that even mean? You knew the dance wasn’t your style but you didn’t think that you were terrible. You tucked yourself into a ball and dipped your head. This wasn’t good enough, you were a dancer. You’d been born to move, to dance, to perform. You had one more shot to impress him and you were not going to let this go to waste.

Chan watched you deflate in the corner of the room, he felt terrible for you but he’d be lying though if he said he disagreed with what was said. You were good, great even but you danced like you were just going through the motions, not like you loved what you were doing. It confused him. This didn’t seem like the girl who stayed rehearsing until 2am because she had to be perfect. He watched you fold into yourself for the rest of the groups until they announced the solo evaluations.

They were good, he couldn’t deny that. Between singers and rappers, there was a lot of vocal talent in the room. They moved onto the dancers and he watched your head lift up. Your jaw was clenched and there was a hard look in your eyes. They moved through the list, and many different styles were performed. Between lyrical, contemporary, the stereotypical girl group style. Your name was called last. You stepped into the centre, ignoring the whispers surrounding you.

The speakers came to life and everyone was silenced when ‘Doom Dada’ blared out. Chan watched your face light up and an attitude that he’d never seen before as you moved. It clicked in his head instantly, of course you were going through the motions before it wasn’t even close to being your style of dance. This, right now, you were like a whole other person and the love for what you were doing shone through.

You finished in a low squat with your arms crossed and held eye contact with the staff in front of you. JYP leaned forward with his hands crossed, you held your breath.

“That was exactly what I wanted to see. That is what you’re capable of and I don’t want to see anything less than that ever again.” He stood up, finished with the evaluations and addressed the room. “That is your standard for dancing. Anything below that is not enough.”

“Well, I guess we know who he wanted to see now.” Someone muttered behind Chan. He wasn’t listening though, he’d already stood up and crossed the room to speak to you.

“You didn’t think to mention you can dance like that?”

You were breathing heavily, the weight of what you’d just done beginning to hit you and your body was tiring quickly. “I told you I wanted you to see it with everyone else.”

“I won’t lie, I was worried after the group but that? That was insane Y/N, I’ve never seen anything like it.”

You felt your face flush at his compliment. “It’s not that big of a deal.” You brushed him off.

“Nope, forget about waiting on me when I’m producing at night. You’re going to help me learn how to dance like that.” He grabbed your shoulders and started steering you out of the room. “We’re going to celebrate.”

“Celebrate what?” You didn’t object to the pushing, just let him guide you out.

“Celebrate that my dance evaluations are going to go through the roof now!”

────୨ৎ────

*Back to the present*

“So that was how we became friends.” Chan finished. “It wasn’t even a question for me when I was told that I could make the group to ask her.”

“I was always surprised that you asked me.” You admitted, shifting in your chair and tucking your knees up to your chest.

“What?!” Chan’s eyes almost popped out his head, you’d never told him that before.

You shrugged. “You were told to form a boy group, it had been so long since you joined that I never even thought you’d fight to make it co-ed.”

Chan was shocked, you’d been the first person on his mind the second he was told he could form his own group. He’d gone back straight away to explain how he couldn’t do it without you, what you’d bring to the group and he’d fight to have you there with him. It had been years and you’d never once mentioned that you had been genuinely surprised that he asked you to do it with him.

He was silent for a moment, thinking of his words carefully. “You were my first friend in 2 years that I knew wouldn’t leave.” He spoke quietly, so quietly that you nearly had to strain to hear him. “I couldn’t imagine doing any of this without you. I couldn’t have done this without you.”

You held his eye contact, until the buzzing of the comments was too much to ignore.

I’m actually crying at this

Omg actual soulmates here

Y/N looks like she’s about to cry I can’t cope

If she cries I’ll cry

Forget friendship goals I fully believe they’re in love now

Aww Y/N as a girlfriend would be so cute!!!!

“Nope nope none of that.” You scrolled through. “I’d be a terrible girlfriend to anyone.”

Chan laughed again at that, agreeing with you.

“I’m a workaholic that spends all hours choreographing even on my days off. Never mind when I have a busy schedule full of practicing, touring, interviews. Honestly, I’d be the worst girlfriend. I hope no one ever asks me.” You were completely exposing yourself here and you didn’t care.

Chan looked at you slyly and then back to the camera. “Spoken like the true writer of I Like It.” He teased.

Your jaw dropped and you lunged at him to push him off his chair again while the comments exploded at his words.

[rewind-redux]

New Experiments - Harley Sawyer/Reader

The halls were dark and reeked of coppery blood, the scents of metal, toys, and blood blending into a suffocating fog. What few papers explaining what had happened in this hell were crumpled in your bag, along with the occasional VHS tape that you managed to find. You were on your way to confront The Doctor, the monster you've read about behind the experiments, now an experiment himself. His voice rang in your head, that rough metallic tone echoing the last words he'd said to you before you’d continued on.

"An intriguing specimen, with no obvious reason to come down into the pits of playtime co." You glanced at the TVs lining the walls, the box frames enclosing the already small hallway, making you feel much more... fragile. God knows what you'll find when you get to the man behind the torture. If he's even a man anymore.

"Even the ground beneath your feet..." The Doctor's voice sang out from behind you, roughly pushing you to the trapdoor. You grabbed his hand at the last second, taking him down with you. Or.. what sounded like him.

Your eyes adjust to the dim room, being met with a robotic body covered in a torn shawl, and a TV for a head that flickered with different images and videos. You pushed yourself back against a fence, the metal rattling loudly in the silence.

"...Harley Sawyer?" Your voice was a bit shakier than you would have liked, but at least the words came out.

The machine's head tilted slightly, as if examining you. "How... interesting. I've seen how you understand that the price of progress is insignificant. I watched you snuff out that little life for the sake of reaching me. You dragged me down into my own trap. And yet, now that you've reached your goal... you don’t seize it. Are the lies finally wearing off? Have you come to your senses about that doll?" He stayed where he was, not moving towards you like one would wait for a puppy to come to them so as to not scare them off.

You inhaled deeply, trying to regain your senses, the stress of being in Playtime Co exhausting you now that you were no longer under immediate threat. ...You didn't even feel like this in safe haven.

"It's a mystery how Playtime managed to ignore such an intriguing mind, such a.. promising one. You understand how things work. How to succeed. You would have made for a stimulating experiment." You looked up at him, the remorseless, ruthless doctor. The doctor that.. could actually do something, keep the burden off your shoulders, unlike the toys you've been carrying through this hell.

You sighed, leaning against the fence. "Why... why should I trust you?" You could feel your body trusting him, relaxing under his analytical gaze.

"If I wanted you dead, you wouldn't have even made it this far into Playtime. 1170 would have made quick work of you."

‘Huggy Wuggy’. You thought to yourself. You've had so many close calls, almost dying every room you stepped in, and yet-

"And what an exceptional case you are, making it all the way to me. Even the most promising toys never made it very far, but you. You would have been the most successful, if only Playtime had recognized it." Your eyes trailed up his metallic body, his eye trained on you, filled with anger and... grief.

"But now it can't." You looked back up at his body as you said it, taking in what he'd become.

"Not anymore. Those.. fools decided to take away my achievements, my abilities. They gave up a vital asset because of their own ego, took over my experiments as if they were their own. They stole my experiments, my ideas, and confined me into this body." You could picture the scowl he would have if he had a face, the anger that would've been so easily seen.

You didn't really know what to say. What was there to say? This man, this... genius, broken down into an amalgamation of metal and dismembered flesh suspended indefinitely. You can't help but feel sympathy for him.

"But you," You glance up at him, his eye still locked onto your body. "You could've been my success. My magnum opus. You could have shown everyone that I was right." His metallic body stepped closer, the whirring of his mechanisms quiet. Soothing, even.

"You didn't deserve this." The words came out before you could process them, the tone… soft.

Sawyer paused, the TV screen flickering as if in thought. No one talked to him like that. He's never been spoken to as if he was a child. But.. you weren't wrong. He didn't deserve it, he knew that more than anyone. His voice became less rough. "No, but they were too scared of my creations, of what I could do. They were fools for thinking doing this would stop me. And now they're gone." The bitterness came back at the last sentence, his eye narrowing.

You stood, pulling yourself up using the chain link fence you had leaned against. He wasn't that tall anymore, and looked... human. Wires and metal and TV static, yet he was still the man you read about. He was still a man.

The silence dragged out, neither of you daring to speak and break it, seeming so fragile yet so needed. A break. That's what you both needed. 

Eventually, Sawyer spoke up, shaking off his feelings, his tone returning to the clinical one you knew. “What do you gain from coming back? Why come back at all?” 

You… couldn’t really answer that. Why did you come back? It’s not like you knew any of these toys personally. It’s not like you knew the directors at all. “...I’m not entirely sure, myself.”

He hummed, a bit disappointed. “And here I thought you came back with a reason I could dissect. No matter. What matters is you’re here now. And I get to have my stimulation, instead of waiting for those inadequate toys to wander where they’re not supposed to.” He stepped closer, examining you. “It’s been so long since I’ve seen a body, much less done a vivisection.” 

You held your ground, not wanting to show that his words made you feel a bit queasy. His hand reached out, feeling your neck and pulse.

“110 beats per minute. You’re scared of this, aren’t you? Your blood pressure feels higher as well.” His hand clamped around your neck, tilting your head up so he could take a closer look at your face. “Your pupils are dilated, most likely from adrenaline and how dark it is. Your respiration rate is higher than average, but not that high. You’re trying to keep yourself calm. Box breathing, yes?” 

You swallowed, feeling vulnerable. He was pointing out everything about your emotional state and your body, nevermind the fact his hand could easily snap your neck in a flash. 

His hand was cold, the contrast ever so noticeable on your warm neck. “You would have made for a successful bigger body. Perhaps a Huggy Wuggy, or a CatNap. Perhaps a completely new toy. Your body would have been easy to change into it.” His hand glided down to your chest, pressing into it. “Strong bones. Maybe it would have been a pain for you to start the process, not that it matters.” 

Your breath hitched, blood rushing to your face as Sawyer pressed into your chest. Thank God it was dark.

“Ah. A reaction. Fear? Anger?” He pressed harder, your back now up against the chain link fence. You could feel the heat on your face, your ears burning as you took a breath. “You’re not going to answer? Do I have to pull the words out of you?” His fingertips dug into your skin, leaving red marks behind. 

A small noise slipped out of your throat, barely getting out before you took another shaky breath to calm yourself. 

“Maybe you won’t be immediately discarded after all. You have such stimulating reactions.” His hand dug in again, and this time you grabbed his wrist to stop his fingers from breaking your skin. 

“Stop-...” He surprisingly pulled away, giving you a moment to compose yourself. At least, that’s what you told yourself. 

“It’s easy to get under your skin isn’t it? Just as easily as you slipped under mine?” The thought made you flush red, visible in the dim light. He pulled you closer again, examining your face. “Extremely easy. In more ways than one, I see.” His hand tightened on your throat, enough to feel it, but not enough to be painful. 

“Sawyer…” You couldn’t tell if what came out of your mouth was a groan of pain or pleasure, or maybe a mix of both. Your hands grasped at his shawl, weakly pulling at it. Gods, you felt so pathetic, but so… needy. It’d been so long since you’ve felt any positive emotions, so long since you’ve felt even remotely relaxed. Maybe Sawyer felt the same way, being trapped in that form, stressed about no direction to go, no purpose in existing other than to spite those who made him what he is now.

He gave a short chuckle, finding your position amusing. This was a game to him, a chance to find and create reactions to stimulate his clinical mind. His hand dropped to your waist, feeling around your skin in a detached, almost professional way, if you hadn’t known he was a sociopathic doctor. 

“Your body is much warmer than everything else down here. No wonder the toys find you so easily.” He pressed his hand into your stomach, eliciting a grunt from you. “Sensitive here? Not at all surprising, the human body is typically more sensitive around vulnerable places, such as your stomach or neck.” You could feel your body heating up, even warmer than before. You cursed softly under your breath, shifting a bit to get more comfortable.

“Where else?” He glanced up at your words, humming in thought. 

“Where else is the human body sensitive, or where else are you sensitive?” You closed your eyes, trying to gather your thoughts to answer him. Your mind felt clouded in a haze of fear and need, thoughts coming by sluggishly.

“Where else am I?” You almost panted out the words, the air you were breathing in not feeling like it was enough.

“For that, I would have to test it. Feel every part of you, what makes you tick, what makes you grimace, and what makes you squirm.” You could hear the anticipation in his voice, the way he viewed you as a new toy to pick apart and analyze what was left behind afterwards. You glanced down at his metallic hand hovering over your neck, the joints almost shaking as he waited for your acceptance. It surprised you that he would even consider thinking about whether or not you accepted.

“I don’t think it’d be very comfortable to do that against a chain link fence.” He looked over your shoulder at the fence, tilting his head.

“I don’t need comfort in this body, the surroundings are trivial.” You sighed. Right, self absorbed mad scientist. 

“I do. I’m still a human, remember? My body isn’t as forgiving with rough surfaces as yours is.” He thought about it for a second, watching you.

“You won’t find a… comfortable place in Playtime. It wasn’t built for your comfort.” You huffed, but shook the annoyance off. He was right in a way, it wasn’t exactly the most inviting place to be at. 

’Ironic.’ Before your thought could continue, his hand pulled you out to a better lit place. You couldn’t control the way your hand immediately grasped onto his, the urge to intertwine your fingers with his coming to the forefront of your mind. He let go as you reached the room where his brain was contained, looming over you like an omniscient being. Well, not that he wasn’t, in his own way.

“Now, get on the table and I’ll start.” You climbed up, laying on your back, the metal cool and hard beneath you.

“Why’d you choose here?” He stood over you, hands poised. He paused when you asked that, humming to himself in thought.

“It works the same as any other nervous system. The closer you are to the brain, the more sensations are felt. The more they can be analyzed and dissected.” You inhaled, relaxing on the table as the soft red glow of the machine reflected off Sawyer’s mechanical body.

His hand started by moving across your face, examining the way it looked and twitched. It went to your hair, feeling the strands. 

“A lot different than the toys you’re used to, huh?” He looked down at your eyes as you whispered that, as if part of you didn't want him to hear your words.

“Yes, the toys… their fur is more like plastic, some have a combination. But they're all more… animal like than human. The same can be said for their… cognitive functions.” His hand went to your ear, tracing around the outside with a surprisingly delicate touch.

“You’ve got a… delicate hand for a…” You faltered. For a machine? For a sociopathic insane mad doctor? 

“I wasn’t a surgeon for no reason. How do you think my experiments always came out so well? How they were perfect? The… cognitive side of those experiments is on the other doctors. They let their pathetic emotions get in the way of progress. See how my creations turned out? 1170, 1222, 1188, 1166? Loyal to only me, how they were supposed to be. I did what the others couldn't stomach. Emotions meant more to them than progress.” His hand gripped your throat, his anger being taken out on you.

“Saw-” You could barely choke out his name, his hand tight. He glanced down and eased his grip.

“Apologies. Wouldn't want my new… test to fall short, now would we?” His thumb rubbed your neck, the cold metal warming up from the contact with your skin. A groan escaped from your lips, Sawyer pressing gently on your throat to feel the vibrations. 

His hand slowly made its way to your collarbone, where he flicked the collar of your shirt. “Clothes… always in the way.” He briskly unbuttoned your shirt and pulled you to a sitting position. “If you could not be a limp body that would be useful.” He pulled the shirt off, and you moved your arms to help this time. The air was slightly cold against your skin, goosebumps raising on your arms. “How… fragile. You can't even weather the air of a factory. That needs to be fixed.” He traced your chest and arms, rubbing a circle around your nipple. “No evolutionary purpose for men to keep these… you'd think for how complex biology is, it would try to be better.” The cool metal of his thumb circled around your nipple, sending heat straight to your face.

His hand moved again, tracing your stomach where your organs sat. “I keep the digestive system in the toys, it makes for a more… challenging procedure. And it makes them hungry, which in turn keeps them loyal to their feeder. The rest of the systems have no use in the toys, other than the nervous system.”

“And you don't have any systems.” He glanced up, slightly surprised at your comment.

“...No. I have lungs, a heart, and a brain. I do commend the efficiency of it, since there's no need for food or air. It makes me practically immortal, almost perfect. The way it was done though…” He trailed off, his hand twitching. 

“...I'm sorry for what happened. It.. sounds terrible to go through.” You didn't really know what else to say, this wasn't exactly a common occurrence. 

“I don't need nor want your pity,” His hand gripped your waist, pulling you forward to him. “You shouldn't be saying anything about what happened to me, unless you caused it. And if you’d caused it, you would be in a much worse state than what any of Playtime Co is in.” His eye stared into yours, seething with rage and grief of what had been taken from him.

He quickly collected himself, going back to the analytical side you'd known him to be. His hand stopped at your pant line with a scoff. A chuckle came out of your mouth as you reached down to help. 

“Never taken someone's pants off before?” You watched his screen as it flickered static for a moment. 

“Yes, I have. All bodies need to be completely naked when it comes to vivisections and turning them into toys.” He helped roughly, clearly not used to his patients being awake when it came to undressing them.

“Didn't mean it like that, Doctor.” He glanced up at you.

“Be clear about what you mean. None of this guessing nonsense, you're wasting my time.” He tossed your pants to the side, then pulled down your underwear in a clinical, detached manner.

“Fine. I'm assuming you've never taken someone's pants off for sex before.” He paused at that, placing the underwear with your pile of discarded clothes.

“No, I have not. I have much better things to do than get in relationships and mess around like a high school boy.” You chuckled, the statement sounding odd coming from Sawyer. He glared at you, then dipped his hand lower, tracing your thighs. His thumb gently brushed against your inner thigh, where your artery lay. 

The realization that Sawyer could kill you within seconds resurfaced from the haze of your mind. You were sitting naked on a table, with a mechanical body of an insane doctor looming above you. His hand poised over your artery, able to strike in moments if he wanted.

As he continued his exam, you realized he was too engrossed in the “test” as he'd called it, to even think of killing you. You could see the concentration in his eye, it flicking up and down, taking in every part of you. His hands moved to your calves, then back up as he mapped out your blood vessels in his head. 

Your breathing was heavier, your heart rate fast. As his hand reached between your legs, your leg jerked, trying to close them. Sawyer said nothing, but used his other hand to push your legs apart and keep them that way. He slowly, agonizingly traced around your privates, his fingertips freezing against it. You couldn't help the twitch of your hips as he almost reached it, the flush in your face darkening. The hand holding your legs moved to hold down your hips, his screen flickering as he watched your reactions.

“I can see you're getting impatient, with your… uncontrolled movements. Perhaps we should control them, no?” Both of his hands pinned down your hips before you could respond, the metal digging into your skin. Your hips reacted, instinctively bucking against his hold. He watched and pressed down harder, drawing another reaction and a small noise from you.

You could see in his eye as something clicked. Humanity was so close for him, however disgusting it was. The feeling that he could be human again, if only in his head. This… emotion he was pulling out of you, this pleasure... this was the first time in years that he felt even remotely close to his old self. To being human. And he craved it, the ability to move around, experiment, to be his old self. He needed it.

He clamped a hand over your mouth as he pushed a finger in, not giving you any time to adjust to the new sensations before he started stretching you. He clearly knew what he was doing, but in a studied clinical manner, as if following instructions from a book. His eye was trained on where you two met, watching your body's reactions to the intrusion. He hated it. But it was all he had left to feel human, this disgusting pointless act. He slowly added another finger, the metal cold and desperate as it thrusted in and out. A low groan escaped your lips, sawyers eye quickly looking up to see your face, your expressions. 

His hand clamped harder on your mouth, muffling the noises you made. He added a third, the stretch painful due to the lack of preparation he’d given you.

“Harley- ngh.. fuck.. slow down..” He glanced back up at your face, his emotions unreadable. It was unsettling, how silent he was, but you supposed it was his clinical side taking over, logging each and every reaction you made. He barely slowed down, just enough for you to stop complaining. His metal fingers curled in different ways, prodding and testing to see if you’d react to it. He was rewarded with grunts and groans that slipped from your mouth, muffled from the hand pressing into it.

He spoke up, his tone back to normal, talking more to himself than to you. “How submissive you’ve become… expected, really. All you need is the right treatment, which would be more successful with locking you up in those padded rooms. How do you think I was able to create and control all of those toys so easily? Though I do prefer a… faster approach, such as isolation and torture. Something like this… It would take quite a long time for the patient to become fully submissive, and for all of the wrong reasons too. The patient would become a pet, not an asset. Completely worthless.” He continued with the movements as he talked, not making any move to slow down or pull away. 

You could feel yourself getting closer to release, your mind in a pleasurable haze as you closed your eyes. He noticed and slowed down, dragging the pleasure out more. A low whine escaped your mouth, almost turning into a moan. Your hips bucked forward, searching for more friction, to finally climax. He moved his hand from your mouth and pushed your hips down, thrusting his fingers hard into you, curling them inside. You could barely even choke out a noise, the abruptness too intense to react to. He continued at a rough and fast pace, eventually adding a fourth finger, stretching your already sore hole even further. You couldn’t help but grind into it, the feeling desperately needed after such a long time of pent up stress. 

He watched your reaction as you climaxed, the flush that enveloped your face, the sweat that glistened on your forehead, the shakiness in your legs and arms, the rapid rise and fall of your chest from your panting breaths. He continued to thrust his fingers in and out, making you ride it out, adding to the sensations he was causing you. He logged every reaction and every simple movement as you laid back limply on the table. 

“It seems I was right. Yet again. What an interesting specimen you are. But.. don’t think I’m done with you yet. There’s still plenty more to test. After all, I haven’t seen anything like you in years. It’s only fitting I keep you for my own… enjoyment, if you will.” He pulled his hands away, wiping them off on his shawl. “Now get dressed. I’m getting awfully tired of looking at you being so… pathetic. It’s disgusting.” He didn’t even bother to toss you your clothes, instead just standing there watching you as you struggled on shaky legs to stand on your own two feet. You eventually managed to pull on your clothes, your shaky hands barely able to button your shirt. You were still breathing heavily, taking large breaths to calm your racing heart. 

He started walking away, expecting you to follow, and follow you did. “Now… what to make of you…? I’m sure the Prototype would… love to get his filthy hands on you, but… let’s keep my secret for now, yes? He may control the board, but that doesn’t mean he controls the pieces, only the rules. And there’s nothing against… holding out on a potential subject for him. As long as you eventually end up in his grasp, I’m keeping you for my own scientific purposes for now. He never gave a time limit either, so that means you’ll be mine indefinitely, until I tire of your presence.” He paused in thought, stopping in his tracks.

“Unless…” You felt goosebumps raise on your arms. You didn’t like the tone of his voice, the way he stopped as if realizing something exceedingly substantial. “I could do what no one else could, with you. I could finally make a scientific breakthrough that no one could ignore. The other heads would be shamed and put in their place, after stealing my work and humiliating me like that.” He turned around, facing you. “...And all I’d need is you.”

[shanastoryteller]

this is NOT a request for u to hurry finishing up the new chapter for siat (bc people who do that are ungrateful brats) but a genuine question. Do you feel even less drawn to it right now (spn brain aside) because of what JKR has done to English politics and the lives of trans women? Because I think it would be completely understandable if you felt this was ur final straw to not finish it but I would also get the opposite of it being ‘now there’s even more reason to finish it’ I think both viewpoints are valid and have their reasonings and this is really truly not in any way meant to be a “why isn’t there a new chapter yet!!:(((“ ask I’m just curious what HP fanfic writers (especially someone as well known as you) make of this as I keep seeing posts going around of the “if u still read/write HP fanfic you’re a terf too” variety and I just…disagree with that but also see where they come from (aka helping the fandom stay relevant. But even if we all quit reading and writing fanfic, HP would still be popular and imo the dent fanfic makes isn’t that big in the fandom bc locals still love HP and most people who now read fanfic hate JKR and wouldn’t actually read her books/buy merch)

Regardless of what you decide, know your Audience is behind you,100%. Hell, you dragged most of us (me included) back into Supernatural. I’m excited for the new chapter of tgp!! 💖💖

Thank you for all your words, whatever fandom they may come in (I.e I found you years ago because of your teen wolf fic specifically embers embers but stayed through so many fandoms and even read some I know nothing about) you are a beacon of light in this world and I treasure each of your works truly and with all my heart

thank you, this is a really sweet and nice way of asking, i'm so glad you enjoy my writing <3

but honestly: nah lol

jkr is shit and so are all of her opinions. the influence she has on government sucks and i personally think it's best to avoid giving her money, but i'm not pocketwatching other people

siat, which is a very popular hp fic, is 8 years old and has 2.8 million hits

in 2023 alone, 9.6 million people visited universal studios hollywood, the home of the wizarding world of harry potter

people should engage with media in whatever manner they feel most comfortable and sparks the most joy. but the idea that fanfic is a significant contributor to the cultural zeitgeist is just stupid

siat's on the to do list, i've just been infected with spn brainworms and wbt is also on the list but i feel more compelled to work on that one than siat just because huge chunks of it are already written so it seems a little silly to drag my feet as much as i have, plus at the time it had been a year since i posted the first chapter and i was like. ok come on let's go this is getting ridiculous

it's a goal to get back into a regular update cadence with siat. i'm not tired of it, i don't hate it, i still have an outline and know we're i'm going

it's partially that we're in sort of a tricky part to write, since it's about when a bunch of threads are about to come together and i don't want to fuck it up, and also that demands for updates honest to god really do kill my motivation to work on it. it's not punishment, i'm not trying to be a bitch, but i love the story and want to love sharing it with you, but being treated like a dispenser of fic, or like i owe people something and i'm somehow being selfish or inconsiderate by having fun writing what i want to write, really honestly just kills that. i don't want to write with that in the back of my head

people ask me about siat updates a lot. i don't post anything close to all of them. and if it was just "love the story can't wait to see what happens next!" that wouldn't be a problem, that's nice, i like that people are engaged and interested in what's to come

but a litany of "when will this update?" "is this abandoned?" "what about siat :(" "i don't care about x, why aren't you working on siat?" "you haven't updated siat in a while..." "why haven't you updated siat?" just makes me feel kinda bitter. which isn't a place i want to write from

it will be updated. i probably won't write the next chapter straight through and will alternate with tgp or wbt or whatever, but it's honestly just a mix of brainworms and having a lot of fun with these blorbos and wanting to have be in the right mindset while i write

[nowoyas]

Trying to make sense of the Nanowrimo statement to the best of my abilities and fuck, man. It's hard.

It's hard because it seems to me that, first and foremost, the organization itself has forgotten the fucking point.

Nanowrimo was never about the words themselves. It was never about having fifty thousand marketable words to sell to publishing companies and then to the masses. It was a challenge, and it was hard, and it is hard, and it's supposed to be. The point is that it's hard. It's hard to sit down and carve out time and create a world and create characters and turn these things into a coherent plot with themes and emotional impact and an ending that's satisfying. It's hard to go back and make changes and edit those into something likable, something that feels worth reading. It's hard to find a beautifully-written scene in your document and have to make the decision that it's beautiful but it doesn't work in the broader context. It's fucking hard.

Writing and editing are skills. You build them and you hone them. Writing the way the challenge initially encouraged--don't listen to that voice in your head that's nitpicking every word on the page, put off the criticism for a later date, for now just let go and get your thoughts out--is even a different skill from writing in general. Some people don't particularly care about refining that skill to some end goal or another, and simply want to play. Some people sit down and try to improve and improve and improve because that is meaningful to them. Some are in a weird in-between where they don't really know what they want, and some have always liked the idea of writing and wanted a place to start. The challenge was a good place for this--sit down, put your butt in a chair, open a blank document, and by the end of the month, try to put fifty thousand words in that document.

How does it make you feel to try? Your wrists ache and you don't feel like any of the words were any good, but didn't you learn something about the process? Re-reading it, don't you think it sounds better if you swap these two sentences, if you replace this word, if you take out this comma? Maybe you didn't hit 50k words. Maybe you only wrote 10k. But isn't it cool, that you wrote ten thousand words? Doesn't it feel nice that you did something? We can try again. We can keep getting better, or just throwing ourselves into it for fun or whatever, and we can do it again and again.

I guess I don't completely know where I'm going with this post. If you've followed me or many tumblr users for any amount of time, you've probably already heard a thousand times about how generative AI hurts the environment so many of us have been so desperately trying to save, about how generative AI is again and again used to exploit big authors, little authors, up-and-coming authors, first time authors, people posting on Ao3 as a hobby, people self-publishing e-books on Amazon, traditionally published authors, and everyone in between. You've probably seen the statements from developers of these "tools", things like how being required to obtain permission for everything in the database used to train the language model would destroy the tool entirely. You've seen posts about new AI tools scraping Ao3 so they can make money off someone else's hobby and putting the legality of the site itself at risk. For an organization that used to dedicate itself to making writing more accessible for people and for creating a community of writers, Nanowrimo has spent the past several years systematically cracking that community to bits, and now, it's made an official statement claiming that the exploitation of writers in its community is okay, because otherwise, someone might find it too hard to complete a challenge that's meant to be hard to begin with.

I couldn't thank Nanowrimo enough for what it did for me when I started out. I don't know how to find community in the same way. But you can bet that I've deleted my account, and I'll be finding my own path forward without it. Thanks for the fucking memories, I guess.

[charliegyrth]

Hello from Charlie Gyrth!

A Brief Introduction (and Links!)

Hello, Tumblr! My name’s Charlie. I’ve been writing (and reading) gainer fiction for years, and I finally have the confidence to start posting. My goal is to publish one story or chapter every day for the rest of 2025.

Here’s what I have so far:

Long Stories:

Nightly Feedings (ebook) 1 2 3 4

Go with the Flow: A Surfer Gets Fat (ebook) 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9

A Milkshake a Day (ebook) 1 2 3 4

Fatter for the Wedding (ebook) 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12

Alex Gets Soft (ebook) 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22

Short Stories:

The Lottery Winner 1 2 Improving Myself Scooter Hangry Search History Back from the Oil Rig Good Memories Tiny Tim and Small Sam The Hottest Guy in Town 1 2 You Ruin Your Perfect Body Metabolism Blockers Sliding Doors, Changing Waistlines I Really Want You to Like Me Liam's Sweet Tooth Are You Happy? My Best Friend Comes Back The Writer's Retreat Halloween Before and After Marriage Body Mark Wears the Pants Two Fat Guys on a Blind Date

And here’s a little bit about me:

I love writing about positive, supportive male couples who embrace the joys of gaining, feeding, encouraging, stuffing, and belly play. I don’t write about force-feeding (unless it’s consensual) or revenge fattening. I read those kinds of stories sometimes, but as a writer, I want to explore the healthier sides to gaining.

I find fat beautiful, so I kind of get lost in describing it sometimes. I love the sheer variety of plus-sized body types, so I try to reflect that in my stories. Not every fat guy is destined to grow a big, round beer gut (although those are great, of course).

I typically stay away from magical plots or instant weight gain. That usually doesn’t do it for me.

I will never use AI in my writing. I like creating these stories myself. (I have a day job as a full-time writer/editor, so this stuff is sort of a release for me.)

I try to be realistic with how quickly my characters gain, but sometimes I get a little ahead of myself and stretch reality. Just go with it.

I've started to publish some of these stories as ebooks. They will always be available for free on Tumblr, but one of my goals in life is to make gainer fiction more accepted in the literary world. We need to get more of this stuff out there. I don't expect gainer fiction to ever become mainstream, but there's no reason why it isn't as mainstream as, say, werewolf shifter erotica or other niche subgenres.

Probably not important, but I'm a redhead, so if you're wondering why there's an overrepresentation of red-haired characters in my stories, now you know.

I’m a gainer in my personal life, but I’m terrible at it. I always get up to about 210 or so and then chicken out. These stories are a way to help me process some of those feelings so that I can eventually have the confidence to keep going. We’ll see. (196 as of today!)

And I think that’s about it. Thanks so much for checking out my Tumblr! And happy eating!

[morelikeravenbore]

Sebastian Sallow, the yapper.

And other such headcanons.

I woke up this morning with the most pressing desire to word vomit some random Sebastian headcanons. These are all based on my fic How to Make a Villain but I've used "you" in place of Aurélie's name for delulu's sake. 

I literally haven't proof read this so. 

*chucks*

✨ He's enchanted every single pocket in every item of clothing he owns and keeps EVERYTHING in them. Books, sweets, potions, wiggenwalds, quills, parchment, plants, rocks, a snitch, notebooks, food. Good luck doing his laundry or trying to find ANYTHING he needs. 

✨ Hoards sentimental items the way a magpie hoards shiny things. Yes, that twig you fiddled with during your first conversation is INCREDIBLY important to him and he'll never ever get rid of it. 

✨ He interrupts a lot but it's only because his brain whizzes at a zillion miles an hour. 

✨ Can't sit still.

✨ Definitely has adhd. 

✨ Constantly snacks on sweets (which he keeps in his enchanted pockets, usually loose because he lost the box.) His favourite is Every Flavour Beans, he'll scarf them down by the handful and isn't put off by the disgusting combination of flavours. In fact, he the worse the flavour combo, the funnier he thinks it is. Do not accept any sweets he offers you because who knows how long they've been in his pockets. 

✨ His innate optimism is what keeps him toeing the line between light and dark but is ultimately what saves him. 

✨ Can always make you laugh even during the most stressful times. 

✨ He needs some ONE to fight for rather than some THING. Hes incredibly goal oriented but as long as it centres around his loved one/s. Will fight harder for you than he will for himself. 

✨ Is overly physically affectionate and will never ever stop touching you, hugging you, smooching you, playing with your hair, poking your face, lifting you up, dragging you around by the wrist, sleeping on top of you, pinching you, tickling you. 

✨ Sleeps like 3 hours a night, somehow manages to function.

✨ HIGHLY intelligent, like I'm talking gifted kid level kinda smart.

✨ But also highly impulsive which explains his whole "genius who does a lot of dumb shit" thing. 

✨ On account of his childhood trauma, he will literally BEG you to marry him but will take a bloody ridiculously long time to decide to have kids.

✨ Speaking of marriage, his love for you runs DEEP but he's about as romantic as a slug so expect his proposal to burst outta him on a whim.

✨ He won't hesitate to defend you, threaten for you, commit Muggle violence for you, duel for you, but he treats you soooo gently. 

✨ Certified yapper. Sometimes he'll wake you up in the middle of the night to yap. Sometimes he'll want to show you how high he can karate kick for like fifteen minutes straight.

✨ He hates cutting his hair and usually grows it out all wild and unruly until you can't take it any more and force a haircut on him.

[copperbadge]

ADHD and (Communications) Productivity

Recently @goodnightmoonvale hit me up by email to ask about some of my processes for keeping myself from getting snowed under when it comes to digital communication. The main question was about finding ways to ensure that you stay in touch with people and, at work, give updates in a timely manner.

I sent back a long email about the systems I use, then asked if I could post up my response publicly as well, since a couple of other people both online and in brickspace have asked me similar questions. I've cleaned it up a little and included it below -- although I feel just slightly weird about posting it since admittedly outside of work I am still not fantastic about prompt responses to email.

Still, I feel like it's good to share this stuff -- I think people take away what they can from this kind of post, and it's nice when something works. So here's what I wrote, tidied up a bit for posting.

SHORT VERSION

When I have a backlog in email or asks or similar -- as I often do -- I set aside a time, between 15 minutes and an hour depending on how I'm feeling, to do "communication rotation". I open up every inbox I need to respond to in a separate tab, and crucially these are the ONLY tabs open -- I set up a new browser window if I have to.

So I have a browser open and I have tabs within the browser -- Gmail, Tumblr Askbox, AO3 Inbox, etcetera. If you have Discord you might open the DMs in Discord to see if you have ones to respond to there. If it helps, you can create a bookmark file of "inboxes" so you can open them all at once every time. Sometimes I have multiple browsers open so that I can have multiple Gmail inboxes (personal, fandom, work) open at once.

Then I cycle through them, answering messages in one inbox until I feel like I can't anymore, and I move on to the next one. I try to set a goal -- say, five messages from each platform, or one "difficult" message that I've been putting off per platform. Or trying to get every inbox down to under 20 messages that need response, or similar.

The goal is not to answer every single message, but to attack the mountain. If you find you're skipping one inbox because only the really hard-to-respond-to messages are left, close out the other inboxes and just focus on replying to ONE hard-to-respond-to message, then get up and walk away and give yourself a treat. Maybe come back and start again in ten minutes, maybe you're done for the day. The point is to reduce the backlog little by little while still retaining enough energy to respond to new things as they come in, so they don't add to the backlog.

There may be a better way for some people -- maybe some people would do better to pick one platform each time and just deep focus on that one, for example. I always say that people need to find what works for them, but the attitude in this case is what's important -- not "Gotta do it all now" but "Little bit now helps me later". 

NOW, for the long version that's more work focused! 

LONG VERSION

Responding to people and keeping them updated are two different things, and I think there's an implicit third thing, which is "making sure I make time to respond to messages". So in sequence what you need to figure out how to do is: 

1. Set up your workflow so that you are consistently reminded to read and respond to email.

2. Respond in a timely and appropriate manner to email. 

3. Set up your workflow so that you are reminded to provide update emails as you progress in various projects. 

So for 1, only you know what will trigger you to consistently read and answer email. For me, I just constantly have my work email open on one monitor (I have two) and whenever a new email comes in I see it. Sometimes I need to use both monitors for other things, and for that reason the only email notifications I get on my phone are work email notifications*. So if I'm working on something and my phone nearby dings, I know it's probably important, and I see what it is fairly quickly.

* Reader, if you have ADHD and have not tried turning off all but the most necessary phone notifications, I do recommend trying it. For some it might be difficult or even counterproductive, but for me, it helps enormously with brain fog and executive function. The only notifications I get on my phone are text messages, work emails, and alarms. Nothing from social media, nothing from retail or game or banking apps. Zippo.

Once I'm aware I have a new email, before I read it, I decide: do I want to read and reply to this now? If not, if I'm in the groove of something else, I leave the email unread, so that it's there nagging at me when I'm done with whatever I'm doing. If I'm in a good place to break, I open the email -- but only if I have concluded that I will respond to it immediately if response is needed. 

This is a difficult habit to form. It may not work for some people. The key is to figure out what will a) draw your attention to new email, b) allow you to decide whether to read it, and c) respond if you do read it. 

2 ("respond in a timely and appropriate manner") is actually the easiest of the three steps in my opinion because you don't always have to have all the answers at once. I sometimes fall into the pit of "I can't respond unless I have a full answer or a finished assignment" and have to pull myself back out. It helps that I have become master of the "acknowledgement email" -- basically if you open an email and you can't answer the questions in it immediately, or if you can't work on the assignment that moment, you fire off a quick email just to let them know you've received the message and are working on it.

For this, I have several stock phrases such as "Thanks for the email! Let me look into this a little further and I'll get back to you" or "Sure, I can get that done in [timeframe]." Importantly, if they have not given you a deadline, it's SUPER helpful to say, "I'll have this to you by [reasonable date in your opinion] -- if you need it sooner please let me know ASAP so I can prioritize it." (or "If you need it sooner let's discuss the scope of the project, since I have a lot on my plate.") 

You then need to make sure that you do the task in the allotted time, but that's a different ballgame -- we're focusing here on responding and updating.

People, truly, just want to know that you've seen their request and are working on it, and just sending that email goes a long way towards giving the impression that you are a prompt responder and strong communicator. Also if you have any questions ("before I proceed, can I ask") now is the time to ask them since that puts responsibility back on them to provide information before you go further and possibly waste your time.

3 ("Set up your workflow so that you are reminded to provide update emails") is where I struggle, because it's not just about remembering to Do The Thing, you have to also remember to update the person on the thing. The way I do this is to use my inbox not as a temporary repository for new emails but as a to-do list. Until a task is complete, the email regarding it does not leave my inbox (see next paragraph for exceptions). If it's important I might even mark it unread (despite having replied to it) so that it "bugs" me when I look at my inbox. 

If I have replied and can't go further until I get a response, I might file the email in a folder. I make a new folder for work every month, so for example any requests from February are in the 2025-02 folder, and for big projects with multiple emails I make a folder like "2025 Holiday Cards" or "2025 Database Audit". Since there's nothing I can do until the person hits me back, it doesn't need to stay in my "to do" inbox -- when they email back it'll get moved there anyway. However, if I have replied and need a response but can work on other aspects of the task, even if I'm not going to immediately, I leave it in my inbox. That way, whenever I'm concerned I've forgotten something, I can check my inbox and see all the stuff I need to either reply to or update people on.

I also use Google Tasks to run my life, and have it open in a sidebar next to my email, so any task I should be working on is generally noted there as well, but that goes back to the "make sure you do the tasks promptly" which again is a different issue. 

CASE STUDY

So, say someone asks me for a spreadsheet on Monday. I reply "Thanks, I'll have this for you by end of day Friday, let me know if you need it sooner." They don't respond so I assume Friday is fine for my purposes. I leave the request email in my inbox and start work on the task OR I put the task in my Google Tasks with "Due Friday EOD" on it. (Sometimes I do both.)

I work on the project all week and by Wednesday I've made reasonable progress but haven't heard back from the person who asked for it. Around the end of day Wednesday, I might open the thread again and send a quick email saying "Hey, I'm making good headway on this, still on track to have it to you EOD Friday." Or I might have a question, and shoot that off. For some people, you get a feel of whether or not they need that kind of update. I don't do this for, say, my super laid-back boss, but I do for the head of Data who definitely wants status updates. 

On Friday, I open that same email thread as the original request (for consistency) and send them the finished product. At that point I know I'm done with the task so I can shift the email into my 2025-02 archive for good. All the communication is in one place, and it's neatly filed away, so I no longer have to worry about it. 

CONCLUSION

The ultimate point is that you want to develop a system for your own personal use that reminds you to check email frequently, helps you respond immediately when you read an email, and reminds you to send updates as they're needed. Maybe that's alarms instead of Google Tasks, or a calendar app, or a handwritten to-do list in place of keeping stuff in your inbox. The point is to know what will cue you to do things you wouldn't do naturally, then implement those -- and change them if they stop working. What I wrote above is my system, but it's mostly demonstrating the framework I used to build it, which is what I hope other people will also find useful.

[littlelovelunette]

Omg omg omg improving percentages but reader is so burnt out and sevika notices so she’s extra gentle and caring with reader? Making sure they’re ok and resting well and is pampered and cared for and reassured and lots lots lotttsss of praise! Pretty please i love youuuu

Improving Percentages (6)

I love you too, anon haha

“How are you still managing advanced maths if you don't even know how to do long divisions?” You asked the classmate you'd agreed to tutor, Stacy was somehow the topper in physics and stuff but when it came to basic maths suddenly she was scatterbrained.

This had to be one of your biggest mistakes because you were dying of stress as it was and now you were stuck with an idiot of a friend who didn't even know how to do long divisions.

“I don't know, it's just so different from all the other things we've done.”

“How?” You sighed, exasperated, before getting up, “I have business class in a few minutes so I have to kinda get going.”

You got up, swinging your bag over your shoulder. Stacy grabbed the hem of your sleeve, looking up at you with puppy eyes. “Please help me with long divisions on Thursday?”

You sighed. “If you are gonna switch batches, I won't be able to help you— keep that in mind before you make any decisions.”

You smiled and waved goodbye to her before leaving for class. You opened the door a little to peek inside.

“May I come in?” You asked Professor Sevika who didn't look up from the papers she was marking, reading glasses on point and posture as sharp as ever.

“Yes, sweetheart.”

You blushed at the casualty and slowly walked inside, taking a seat next to the huge window. You always sat there, it was closer to Sevika and gave you a perfect view of her.

“You look tired.” Sevika commented.

“Mhm.” You could only hum. Doing your extra classes with her and trying to cope with the other classes has been draining you completely.

“What's wrong?” Sevika looked up from her papers and you both made eye contact.

“I've just had so much going on at home with dad's colleagues constantly coming to our place for whatever stupid business he's trying to do and dad's sort of been forcing me to delegate for him.” You explained.

“But isn't doing business your main goal anyway?” Sevika asked as she stacked the papers and put them in their respective files.

“Yeah, it is, but I don't want to do slavery. He wants to keep the money to himself!”

“Now that's just low.”

You nodded with a sigh, looking down at the plain black surface of your desk. “I guess, I'm just really overwhelmed with the pressure from there and chemistry has been so hard these days.” You paused before adding, “Besides, I'm missing out on a few basic classes in chem anyway, that would explain my low test scores.”

Your fingers fidgeting was enough to let Sevika know that you were stressed and you were scared you might not do well in your final tests.

“You can still drop chemistry.” Sevika said calmly, surveying you carefully to understand the storm brewing in your brain.

“I don't wanna disappoint my parents, teachers and peers—”

“You won't disappoint anyone.”

You sighed a little and started taking your business studies’ notes out. “I'm just drained. I need, like, a good rest or something.”

“When is our next extra class scheduled?” Sevika asked as she took her reading glasses off.

“Well, today is Wednesday so… Thursday. Tomorrow is the next extra class.”

“But tomorrow you're already doing four subjects, no?”

“Yeah… I guess, I'll be on the run.” You chuckled nervously before shifting to get comfortable on your seat.

More students started coming into the classroom so Sevika was bound to start her lecture. You felt so drowsy throughout the entire lecture which was unlikely considering it was your favourite subject, head lolling against your hand as you forced yourself awake.

The next day, when you had your extra classes after having 4 very mind destructive subjects to deal with, you were exhausted.

Your eyes were drooping, dark circles around your eyes but you didn't see Sevika in the classroom.

“Excuse me, do you happen to know where the business studies’ professor Sevika is?” you asked the receptionist, holding the strap of your bag tightly to ground yourself from sleep.

“Yeah, she's downstairs actually.”

“Downstairs…?” You repeated, confused before turning and leaving. The elevator was occupied so you took the stairs, pushing your body to focus going down the steps.

“Hey, sweetheart.” Her voice tore you out of your sleep.

“Hey… why are you down here?” You asked as you walked into the garage and she closed the hood of her car.

“Today's extra class will be held at my place, let's go.”

You were a little surprised but didn't question it. Sevika opened the car door for you and you sat down at the passenger seat.

She closed the door on your side and went to the driver's side.

As she sat down, the car's engine revved to life and she pulled out of the driveway. “So, how were classes?” Sevika asked as she drove past the traffic and towards the direction of her house.

You didn't answer. When Sevika looked your way she saw that you were deep asleep. With a soft smile now playing on her lips she parked her car and got out of it.

“My little bunny.” She whispered as she picked you off the passenger seat and took you inside.

When you woke up in the bedroom, you looked around and there was the golden glow of the lamp, Sevika was deep asleep by your side with one hand draped across your stomach and the other under you as if you weighed nothing.

You shifted closer to the older woman, smiling to yourself as you started drifting off to a peaceful slumber again.

You knew you were safe in her arms now and she would pamper you and take care of you to no end.

An hour passed, your limbs tangled with hers in nothing but innocent sleep. As you woke up with a start to check your phone, you saw your mother asked you where you were.

“Fuck.” You whispered and Sevika roused. “Hm?” She hummed in inquiry, forcing herself to get up, wrapping one arm around you.

“Mum’s asking where I am.” You answered as you typed a message in the reply box.

“Tell her the truth.” Sevika said simply and got up.

“What?”

“Tell her you're at mine for classes.” Sevika took her shirt off leaving herself in a tank top and pants. She looked hot. Her muscles were so juicy… so meaty, and gosh— you just wanted to be head locked and-

“You're staring.”

“Oh!- right, sorry.” You quickly typed the message to your mother and watched Sevika walking out of the room without saying anything. Moments later she returned with a box full of very expensive chocolates.

“Sevika,” you whispered her name and watched as she placed it on the bed next to you.

“Got it for you.”

“But they must've cost a fortune.” You opened the golden ribbon around the box and tipped the lid off to see the chocolates inside. They seemed so perfect and elegant.

“A woman like you deserves the finest things in the world.” Sevika said as if stating facts before she took on one of the chocolates out of the box, feeding it to you.

“My, my,” you teased and giggled, a slight blush creeping up onto your cheeks as Sevika fed you one of the delicious treats.

“Take a shower before you leave.” Sevika suddenly said, it was so random.

You decided to ask. “Why?”

“You smell like my cologne.”

[acid-ixx]

Hiii, I have read all your work and it is very good :D!! I've read it several times and never get bored.

Can I ask about something? I'm curious about the characteristics or signs of yandere appearing in Tim. Will he be the last family member to become a yandere? Sorry I asked like this because I feel like he's not getting enough attention in drabbles, questions from other readers, or anything else. So I'm curious.

I hope you understand my question. Because English is not my first language.

— masterlist !

don't mind me using the tags here, i want to clarify a lot of things.

hi anon!! don't worry about your english, i understand perfectly and it's also not my first language too hehe. and to all the others who have asked about tim's (or any other characters') appearance in the series: fear not, nobody is getting ignored at all, i intend for everyone to have their designated events/moments that trigger yandere characteristics for the reader for each chapter. it's my plan to make them each as unique as possible with their intentions, motives and goals, not just them being simply "obsessed" with you, so i'm trying my best to add depth to the story.

that means the entire series will stretch out quite a lot (i already have outlined multiple arcs, flashbacks, and all the characters' individual traits and significance). it's not just going to be ten chapters, i want to remind others that there's more lore to just the neglect, your mother's dark past, and characters that haven't even been introduced to the plot yet, so if you guys prefer one-shots or something shorter, then the series is not for you folks, sorry 😭

as for tim, he is quite literally my favorite character (surprise!), so of course he's going to get special treatment. he's not going to be the last to become yandere, but his spiral to becoming a yandere takes quite a lot of time since compared to others, it's him who spends the least amount of moments with you. even in the non-neglected au i wrote, what triggered his obsession was mere curiousity.

though just because there're lesser events with him, doesn't mean there will be none. he certainly plays a major role in the "wild goose chase arc where the family tries to negotiate (kidnap) you whilst you try to escape to multiple cities/end up in a completely different country". he may not express his love for the reader well, but he most definitely knows the most about you.

oh! and the traits that he does have as a yandere looks tame when you compare it to others, but it's also because it manifests through his personal dialogue (as i reckon he's keeps most of his thoughts about you to himself most of the time (gatekeeper archetype) and he's the character with the most internal dialogue/thoughts too). he's the worst stalker you could have, the one who you should look out for the most with just how much he knows about you in such a short period of time. tim's intelligence and detective skills knows no bounds, and he won't stop exhausting himself until the very knowledge of what the blood pumping under your skin feels like and the exact temperature of your body— is extracted and stored into the terabytes of data he has into his personal batcave.

and spoiler alert: he's also the one who uncovers your mother's past and alongside bruce, what had happened between the period of time when you were dragged out of the closet and the other time in elementary when you were nearly kidnapped, which completely leads to another arc wherein it's where their obsession drives off to a completely different plane of existence, exalting vengeance on the people who tormented you; but tim's pettiness is just on a whole nother level.

and i have to stop here before i (excitedly) spoil the entire series' plot LMAO. my answer to this is a bit more casual to the other asks, so i hope it doesn't irritate anyone.

so thank you for asking this! i also have a question for you people too:

how is the current progression of the plot? i get that it isn't even 10% finished and some moments feel slow, but i try to be as immersive as possible to the readers. so for those who have read the entire thing, what do you want me to possibly add, or does anyone have other clarifications? can anyone tolerate a fanfic that can possibly lead to more than 250k words??? 😭

[cloversnstrawberries]

this may sound very weird and everything but could you do a platonic yandere ada wong and leon kennedy parent duo sorta thing. like ada and leon are readers parents

platonic!yandere!parents!ada w. + leon k & gn!teen!reader [headcanons] ! !

masterlist !

additional notes; hello!! this isn't weird at all :]] thank you so much for requesting this,, i've been wanting to do parent duo sort of requests for a while, but got nervous because. i have... experienced things, being in fandom for a while... oh god the shipping wars. but i feel much better knowing that someone would actually read/want something like this :D i hope i did it justice ^^ i'm also sick, so my brain is cooking in my skull. i apologize if this is worse quality that usual </3

warnings; overprotectiveness, (slight) possessive behavior, soft yandere, mentions of Leon & Ada's jobs/what comes along with it, temporary imprisonment, manipulation, gaslighting, love-bombing, distrust, and if there's anything else i missed, please let me know!! I forget stuff the second i write it down :(((

w/c; 1.7k

Whether not you're biologically their kid, adopted as a baby, or adopted later; they'd treat you all the same. The difference comes with the way you react/how quickly you accept and adapt to their behaviors.

With their jobs, they're usually away for long periods of time. When you were younger (like, younger than 13), they would try their best to alternate their gigs-- sometimes it wasn't possible for one of them to stay with you, and when that happened, you'd stay with either Claire or Jill for a while.

It was just how it was, and you were fine with it-- you thought they'd give that up when you got older, that they'd trust you to take care of yourself.

That was never the concern with it, though-- it wasn't that you couldn't take care of yourself,

They were afraid that being their kid would put a target on your back. The older you got, the more missions they went on-- the more scum-of-the-earth they met, the more careful they got with you.

Leon is extremely protective, and while Ada seems to be more lenient; I'd actually argue she's the worse one to have worried. She absolutely pulls in favors to 'keep an eye on you', and does her best to keep tabs on where and what you're doing whenever possible.

Ada is extremely charismatic, and definitely uses that to her advantage. Meanwhile, Leon is so painfully and genuinely kind, that people can't help but trust him more often than not.

Because of that, it'd be hard for you to convince anyone, maybe even yourself, that they're absolutely insane when it comes to you. At some point, it goes beyond just wanting to keep their kid safe for their own good.

Neither are particularly selfish in general, especially not Leon. Ada has her own goals, but she has a moral code and has been known to go out of her way to help others from time to time.

However, when you get involved, that changes entirely. For Leon, he wants to keep you safe because he doesn't want to lose you; he's already lost too many people he cared for, and he'd be devastated if you were added to that list.

On the other hand, Ada's motivations are a bit harder to place. She cares for you a lot, something she isn't used to letting herself do because of her line of work; she's far more used to isolating herself rather than throwing herself full force into any type of relationship.

You were that one exception-- even with Leon, she tried that routine of keeping herself detached to try and minimize the chance of 'gaining a new weakness'.

Eventually she gave in and stopped doing that, and while that doesn't happen with everyone, it's happened before as well. Ever since she became a spy/mercenary, she hasn't allowed herself to attach to someone as quickly as she did with you.

It's on principle that she doesn't want you hurt because of it. You're the once exception, the one person to have ever gotten her to let her guard down immediately. There's no way she's letting you go because of it, and she'd rather let herself get into tight situations if it meant keeping you safe.

Both Ada and Leon share one thing in common with their attitude towards you, though. And to you, it's probably the most annoying thing about your parents, and nothing could top it.

If they feel the need to, they'll literally just go against your wishes. They won't listen if they get even an inkling that something could go wrong-- and when you were younger, they could easily convince you that it was all for your own good.

Neither Leon or Ada actually enjoy manipulating you, far from it-- Ada is more accepting of it, but Leon had a lot of hang-ups about it at first. Ada was eventually able to convince him that it was okay,

In that way, Leon is worse than Ada in this regard. Ada will only manipulate you as a last resort (though, her definition of 'last resort' can be pretty loose in of itself),

But Leon? You better bet he's pulling it out every opportunity-- because he feels like there's nothing wrong with it. Ada is at least able to recognize that it's not the best thing to do, gaslighting your kid into missing out on friends birthday parties just because of a 'feeling'--

Leon however, is extremely deluded. Partly Ada's fault, and partly not. Yes, Ada nudged him towards believing that it was okay, but it was ultimately Leon who took the leap. It was his reasoning with himself that actually convinced him that it was a good idea.

Don't get me wrong, it's not like they isolate you completely! Ada actually encourages you to go out to events, and make new friends.

Though, maybe that has something to do with the fact that when she encourages you, there's always a feeling someone is watching you that accompanies you throughout the entire event.

When you get older, you start considering sneaking out. Your parents actually didn't expect this-- you'd been doing well with how they've been treating you, and they assume you won't rebel.

You've always seemed accepting of it, but maybe it's on them-- that they don't realize the slight distrust that starts showing up in your eyes. They don't feel a need to look into it any further, if they do notice it.

Maybe you were able to sneak out a couple times before you were caught, or maybe you were never able to successfully pull it off. You don't know about your mom's actual job-- they'd worked hard together to keep that a well-hidden secret from you--, so you don't have any advantage over them.

If anything, you have a massive disadvantage. Considering your parents are a government agent and a spy/mercenary, you probably never even stood a chance.

After you get caught, either dragged back home from wherever you snuck off to-- or hauled out of the open window you'd been halfway through hopping over-- you don't get a scolding like you think you will.

Instead, you get dragged down to the 'guest bedroom' in the basement and locked in there for a little bit. You knew of it's existence, but it never made any sense to you. The house you live in is large, and while your parents don't get a lot of guests, it's happened before.

But with a whopping 4 above-ground guest bedrooms, there was no reason to build a 5th one down in the basement. The fourth above-ground one never got used anyways, it just never made sense to you.

But now, it really, really does. It was never a guest bedroom as much as it was a holding cell. You should've known, considering they put it together when you were around 12/13. A preemptive measure, you realize now.

They didn't think they'd actually use it, but they were glad they'd done it regardless. You've never been in it, but you remember when they were getting the furniture and items to put in it, and when you were barred from entering the basement for a little while the contractors were down there--

You'd seen it from the outside, too. It looked normal enough-- if you ignored the deadlock on the outside, which you absolutely did not notice. It was weird, the addition to the house-- but it wasn't weird enough to look any further than a glance every once in a while, when you were down in the basement doing your laundry and whatnot.

Surprisingly, they don't keep you down there for very long. It's not a permanent thing right now, is what they told you.

That, however, left the very terrifying idea that it could become a permanent thing if you weren't careful. Ada called it 'just punishment', and Leon, ever the dork, called it 'time out on steroids'.

He'd been trying to cheer you up when he said that, and you just barely kept yourself from cracking a smile at it-- you were supposed to be mad, after all.

For the punishment to have worked, you'd have to have been on some kind of break. So, let's say it was spring break they decided to put you in the 'guest bedroom' (holding cell, is what you were internally regarding it as)--

They let you out the night before school started up again, and your first dinner back in the actual house was tense-- to you, it was. But to your parents, they were treating it like every other day.

It pissed you off, to say the least. And for a few days after, you avoided your parents the best you could; but it was a hard thing to do on multiple fronts, even if you were genuinely angry at them.

A part of you wanted to tell people about it, about how they'd trapped you in the basement-- but that was a surefire way of getting the cops involved,

And you weren't really afraid of being taken away or anything,

Instead, you were deathly afraid of how your parents would react to the possibility of you being taken away from them-- Best case scenario, they'd succeed in weaseling their way out of it via Ada's silver tongue or Leon's influence--

...Worst case scenario, your parents would be on the CIAs most wanted list and flea to some remote part of Europe; and you'd probably never see the light of day again, without both of their full attention and supervision. Or not at all, maybe.

Safe to say, you're keeping quiet about your time in the '5th guestroom' down in the basement. That doesn't mean you forget about it, or ever fully forgive your parents for it. You aren't sure if they realize it or not, that you're still mad at them for it.

It's not like you forget about it-- you don't necessarily move on either. You just... focus on other things, is what you tell yourself. You try your hardest to hold onto the anger, but eventually it fizzles away; sometimes it flares up, but only for a few seconds before being cast aside. And only when you're already mad about something else.

It's hard to stay mad at your parents, especially when they try to hard to make up for it. That was their plan-- spoil you with attention and gifts so you stop zoning in on the 'time out on steroids'.

[lemonfroq]

compiled my 2024 art summary + a collection of past ones!

reflections and thoughts below 🌟

so honestly! this was a bit of a strange year for me! this was a time where i admittedly felt bad about my art and wished i pushed myself more and felt kinda lost esp in the second half (the election did not help w my mental health either :'))

however, despite that: i've gotten into some amazing zines and met some really cool people this year, as well as gotten the opportunity to do artwork for a video game! and i just have to remind myself that hitting lows will always be a natural part of the journey and i'll eventually find my highs again. just have to keep working hard and chugging!!

as for what to expect in the new year, i actually have a lot of goals i want to try to meet! major one is finally opening my first online store!! since the animation industry is looking uncertain to me rn i figured i might try selling merch as another way to earn income for myself! i'm nervous bc i've never done something like this before (dw i've been doing research and asking other sellers haha) but still excited! i've already came up with a couple of charm designs so stay tuned for that ^_^

i also hope to get back to drawing more of my ocs and developing my old projects, do more gesture drawing, create more illustrations with more background art, and hopefully go to lightbox expo (i've had bad fomo for a few years now bc the ticket prices intimidated me.....2025 will be it this time 🤞)

but yea! thank you so much for sticking around, i love reading any tags you guys leave on my art they always make me smile or laugh, and i can't wait for what 2025 brings us next!! 💛

[triflesandparsnips]

So I understand that there are Good Omens show fans who have never read Good Omens the book, and that makes me deeply sad because--

Like, there's so much depth to the story being told about humans and humanity and the choice between good and evil -- and how that's actually a false dichotomy whoooops -- WHILE ALSO not really being about Aziraphale and Crowley at all (who are, imo, basically there as embodiments of "Impressive Failures" for the purposes of Theme and also Plot).

BUT IF you want to know why I've shipped them since the book-- here's the moment it happened for wee teenage me:

Wednesday (before the end of the world)

So it's Warlock's birthday party. And there are all these children and security guards and also an angel doing magic tricks while a demon is disguised as a caterer. This bit is basically the same as the show, so hooray.

But as wee me understood the characters up to this point, they were still basically enemies who had been in the field together for way too long and knew each other's moves well enough for the same tempting/thwarting of one another to become kind of boring and repetitive and generally pointless-- particularly once they realized that they could, for instance, just live their (separate!) lives watching humans being weird (Crowley) and seeking various sensory stuff (Aziraphale) while doing the least work necessary to keep their respective bosses off their backs.

The Arrangement was borne not out of hiding a friendship or anything, but instead the realization that sometimes covering for one another would just... cut down on their total overall workload. They were, at best, employees of two different, competitive companies-- though in same kind of department, doing the same kind of work-- who discovered they liked to have lunch at the same deli and that their jobs were sometimes distressingly more similar than either was comfortable with.

SO ANYWAY. BACK TO THAT WEDNESDAY. They're not covering for one another with this whole Antichrist thing-- they're now actively collaborating, and they've acknowledged (mostly) that it's not to cut down on their individual workloads, but rather to preserve their identical-- but not shared (not yet)-- goals of Getting To Continue The Lives On Earth They've Grown To Enjoy.

But like-- still not friends. Not really.

Until Aziraphale fucks up a bit, Warlock accidentally gets hold of a security guard's weapon and starts waving it around, and:

Then someone threw some jelly at Warlock. The boy squeaked, and pulled the trigger of the gun. It was a Magnum .32, CIA issue, gray, mean, heavy, capable of blowing a man away at thirty paces, and leaving nothing more than a red mist, a ghastly mess, and a certain amount of paperwork. Aziraphale blinked. A thin stream of water squirted from the nozzle and soaked Crowley, who had been looking out the window, trying to see if there was a huge black dog in the garden. Aziraphale looked embarrassed. Then a cream cake hit him in the face.

My teenage brain exploded at this moment.

BECAUSE: there is no reason for Aziraphale to do that.

Work-wise: If he got shot, Crowley would get discorporated, but not die-- and anyway, it would happen in such a way that both of them could explain it away easily to their respective sides (and possibly even be commended for it!).

Collaboration-wise: If Crowley had been watching Aziraphale, and if he'd seen Aziraphale have the chance to change the gun but not do it-- then yeah, probably that would've been annoying enough to have warranted some chilly conversations once he came back topside, and therefore, Aziraphale choosing to save Crowley could've been a reasonable, logical choice to keep their working relationship on an even keel until they'd sorted out this Doomsday thing.

But Crowley was looking the other way.

Work-wise, it doesn't make sense-- and secret-collaboration-wise, it doesn't make sense-- and so it is, overall, really weird that Aziraphale saved him.

But his automatic reaction-- in a blink-- is to stop Crowley from getting shot. And he knows it's weird-- he feels embarrassed that his sudden, unthinking reaction is to save his "enemy".

And the final bit is just a couple paragraphs later:

With a gesture, Aziraphale turned the rest of the guns into water pistols as well, and walked out.

SO LOOK: He changed only the pistol about to shoot Crowley. His automatic reaction had nothing to do with saving a party full of humans, many of them children-- nothing to do with Heaven or Hell-- nothing to do with preserving the coworker he needs to stop Armageddon--

It was all to do with saving Crowley. Who may be the enemy, but he's Aziraphale's enemy. And another part of his life on Earth that he's doing all of this just to preserve.

Which may also be, for the first time, the moment he lets himself realize how important Crowley in particular is to him.

...and so anyway, that's how I started shipping these two immortal idiots, and one of many reasons why everyone should read the book.

[songoftrillium]

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I think Werewolf is an inherently queer medium

This is all a part of a larger long-term project.

I am trying to hold the World of Darkness to higher standards of inclusivity

Read our introductory comic here

Werewolf: the Essentials Project Update 04/02/2025

Hello, Kinfolks. Woof. What a time to be alive. This is a period that's been reflected many, many times in the past under many different names. It seems like every time I pick up my phone there is always some new awful thing awaiting us. The intentional composition of the writers on this team are diverse and come from cultures across the world, and what ties us together has been our queerness, our passion for Werewolf, and our commitment to let our passions fuel our writing. The result has been a product that shows the passion from one page to the next.

In short, the state of the world has impacted the pace at which we're working on the book. The priority right now is survival, and surviving is the task that has consumed most of the attentions of those helping with W:tE. It should come as no surprise that people who passionately care about Werewolf also care about the world around them at large, and that is exactly what many of us are doing.

All the same, what's agreed between everyone on the team is that we all feel the work we're doing matters, and in many ways it can be a good way to keep one busy when the other option is the good-old doomscroll. And so, work is still happening, and beyond that, its starting to pick up again.

So, what work remains?

Writing

Writing is more or less finished. Editing is ongoing and as small issues or missing mechanics come up we've been working them in. Chapters 1-7 are complete, and Chapter 8, our storytelling and chronicle section, is in its last few pages before calling it done. We have a small number of writers still working on this, and so far we're looking at 100 Rite of Passage Story Seeds, and 40-60 Cliath Story Seeds. All in all we're handing Storytellers enough game material to be able to keep their tables plenty busy for at least a year of weekly game sessions. Also as a spitball number, by the time this book hits shelves we are looking to be at around 450 pages.

Layout

We are at the 75% complete mark! Chapter 6 of 8 is underway. Due to an influx of support, we're able to have one of our editors pick up work on a more daily basis, so this process should similarly be speeding up in the immediate future. It always feels like the work is neverending, but slowly and surely we're making progress. I've promised myself once this book enters preflight I'm taking a long vacation.

Now, onto the fun stuff:

New W:tE Preview - Meet the Gaians!

With our full tribe writeups completed, we're happy to entice you with a new preview. For those ko-fi subscribers on the Fostern tier or above, you can now read not just our society and history dives, but can now see all the new tribes as written for Werewolf: the Essentials! This massive 80 page preview encompasses all twenty tribes of Gaians represented in Gulaka'i including background, territories, patron, and an all-new cultural outlook section!

All proceeds from ko-fi supporters help fund our commitment to using cultural consultants on our project!

To sign up and gain access to previews and our exclusive BTS discord to our project, subscribe to our ko-fi today! We've already raised $2,450 of our $3,500 goal!

I'd like to also extend a special thank you to my Adren and above supporters Durodragon, Tobias, Madame Badger, The Bohemian, and SmilingCoder for helping make this passion project a reality. THANK YOU!