#is it really a phase if its always lurking

[grave-arts]

Fenris because im back in my Dragon Age phase

[turtlecleric]

*breaks down your door hoping I’m not too late*

6 with 07 raph????? Pretty please!

Haha you're not too late! Anything for you, Yorsh!! 💕

-

CWs: kidnapping, held prisoner, brainwashing, murder and death, blood, seizures, self-blame, violence against reader

-

The cell door groaning on its hinges startles you from your daze. Not the sound itself, really, but the fact that it’s not time for the sound yet. Weeks of being stuck here has ingrained the daily schedule into your very bones; you know for a fact that there’s still a while to go before your dinner is usually brought to you, which means that fucker is probably coming to taunt you again.

You scoot into the corner of the room, pressing your back against the wall. Making yourself smaller, putting as much space as you can between yourself and him. It's a silly thing to do, considering the fact that he really and truly could do whatever he wanted to you and you wouldn't be able to stop him, but it feels better than doing nothing. And Raph would… want you to protect yourself however you could. 

 He would. If-

“Tonight I will finally prove my worth,” Stockman says, hunched over and fiddling with something in his hands. “The Shredder will see that I do have value.”

You want to tell him that that's impossible. He can't prove what isn't true, after all. But you stay quiet, letting him mutter to himself, and focus instead on the hulking shadow that stands far behind him. White eyes stare impassively at you, the only thing clearly distinguishable in the darkness where he lurks.

Raph. 

There isn't much light where he's standing. It's hard to make out the details, but… you think he looks thinner than the last time Stockman brought him down. Is Stockman keeping him fed? Letting him get enough sleep? You seriously doubt it. You're not sure what he's got Raph doing every day, but you've seen glimpses of the bruises. New scars that you're certain weren't there before. 

Suddenly, Stockman surges forward, gripping your jaw in one hand and shouting inches from your face. “I'm speaking! You will listen when I speak!” 

Someone's pissed. It almost makes you want to laugh. To spit in his face, see just how angry you can get him. Then your eyes flick to Raph, who's still standing there on the far side of the cell. He hasn't so much as blinked this entire time, but. He might still be aware. There might be a part of him watching this. You need to stay out of trouble, to appease this pathetic excuse for a man, because if you get hurt, Raph will lose his mind when he… comes back to it. 

“I'm sorry,” you croak. The apology feels sour on your tongue, but you push through anyway, trying to look like you mean it. Stockman scowls but releases your jaw and straightens up, shaking his head as he peers down at you. As if you're the unreasonable one in this situation. Fucking prick.

“As I was saying,” he continues, stepping back and fiddling with the… remote? Something. It looks like a remote. A bulky one, despite there only being a handful of buttons. “You're going to help me with the final phase.” You pull your gaze away from the remote to look back at him, and the rage you saw earlier has been replaced with something closer to satisfaction. You really, really don't like the look of that smile. “Isn't that great? Knowing you'll finally be useful for something that matters?”

Does he expect you to nod? To smile back? To flap your hands in anticipation or gasp in giddy shared excitement?

You don't respond. He doesn't push it, though, and snaps something into place on the back of the remote with a solid click.

“What exactly are your… feelings for this creature,” he says, gesturing towards Raphael. 

What kind of a question is that? You glance between the two of them, wondering if it matters how truthful you are. In the end, you can't deny what's been drilled into your head since the day you woke up in this cell: he's in control. And it's always better to play along. 

“He's my friend.”

Stockman huffs through his nose, clearly amused by your answer. He twists, staring at Raphael before turning back to you. “Do you believe that he cares deeply for you?”

Your eyes narrow into a glare without your permission. Obviously the answer is yes - and Stockman knows it. You're the entire reason he was able to lure Raph into that fucking trap of his in the first place. He wouldn't have come for you if he didn't care - no matter how stubborn he is about admitting it out loud. 

Stockman hums, searching your face. For what, you're not sure.

“Beast.” He takes another step backwards, while Raph steps forward, close enough that you can make out the bruises and cuts that litter his scales, the thick metal collar that looks too tight around his neck. Every time you see him, the guilt threatens to swallow you whole. His expression is perfectly blank, and that, you think, might be the worst part of all. “This should determine whether he is truly, completely under my control.”

Wait, what?

“Make her stand.”

Raph moves immediately, grabbing your upper arm and dragging you to your feet. It's not a painful grip, but it's firm enough that you know you wouldn't be able to pull away even if you tried.

Stockman's eyes bore into yours, still searching. He takes another step backwards, gripping the remote hard enough that it creaks in his hands. “Choke her.”

Your eyes widen, but that's all you can do before you're shoved backwards against the wall. Raph's free hand wraps around your throat, and you feel it constrict your airway without hesitation. The shock gives way to fear, primal and desperate and wild. You need to breathe. You need to breathe. Your hands come up instinctively, trying to push against his plastron, to grab his wrist. Anything to breathe, anything, anything,  but air doesn't come. Your nails drag along his arm, your feet kicking at his legs. 

It does nothing. He doesn't move, or weaken his grip, or so much as flinch. Through your tears, you can see nothing but him. Eyes still white, face still blank, watching you with what an outsider would deem as disinterest as you struggle. Your lungs scream for oxygen, burning, burning, burning. Tiny, bright spots prickle in the darkness, the edges of your vision pulsing with every frantic heartbeat, and the fear would choke you if Raph wasn't already doing so. 

Raph. Raph is going to kill you. He's going to strangle you to death, and then Stockman will take him to Shredder and make him do who knows what else, and if his brothers ever manage to save him he'll blame himself for everything - and it'll be completely, 100 percent your fault. 

You try to speak, but there's no air for the words to take shape. 

“Release her.”

You fall in a heap, not managing to catch yourself, and bang your head against the concrete. You pay no mind to whatever the fuck Stockman is saying, focusing instead on the sweet oxygen that's finally expanding your lungs. Your ears are ringing. The room spins, and your forehead feels oddly wet and itchy. Before you can think too far past the fact that you can breathe, there's a hand in your hair, yanking you up so that you're kneeling. 

When you manage to focus your eyes, you can see that Stockman is pacing, gesturing animatedly as he speaks. The ringing, you have to listen past it. You have to focus. 

“-did it! This confirms it, I'm sure of it. If he'll hurt you on my command, then he'll do anything on my command.” Stockman pauses, looking at you. His grin stretches wider, and then he strides closer and crouches in front of you. “What were you going to say?”

…What?

Your face must betray your confusion, because he clarifies quickly. “I saw you trying to speak. What were you going to say?”

…Why does he care?

His smile gets impossibly wider, and something in his eyes darkens. You have a fraction of a second to realize that you said that out loud before he responds, “Because when you say your last words, I want you to know that they're your last.”

When his words register, it feels like your chest is caving in. Collapsing in on itself, burning to ash that you can suddenly taste in your mouth. You were right. You're going to die. 

And Raph-

You close your eyes, not wanting to look at this maniac's face any longer. You imagine Raph in front of you. The real Raph, with his sly smirk and gentle hands. You imagine his eyes. Not the white ones you've seen since he was turned, and not the sharp ones he likes to put on like a show. The soft ones that you catch him looking at you with when he isn't expecting you to glance his way. 

“I'm sorry, Raph,” you whisper. “It's not your fault. Please don't blame yourself.”

Stockman barks out a laugh, making you jolt. You hadn't expected it, though you're not really sure why. 

He's still laughing when he gives the order. Still laughing when cool metal presses against your neck. You ignore it, craning your head back to catch one last look at Raphael. 

“I forgive you, okay? It's not you. This isn't your fault.” Raph blinks down at you, his face as neutral as before, and - you can't help it. You put it off for so long, afraid of the consequences. Afraid of pushing him away, somehow, or of ruining what you had with him. Silly, you think, to have wasted so much time when this is how it ends. If you don't say it now, then you never will. “I love you.”

He blinks again, and you wait for the pain. You try to prepare yourself, try to reason that it'll be over in a few minutes. Try to convince yourself that it could be worse. You're not sure how, exactly, but you're sure that it could be worse. He blinks again, and when he does, you see-

A blur of motion, and then he's gone. Something starts to drip nearby. You hear a new sound, a horrible, wet gurgling, and by the time you've realized what's happened, Stockman is already on his knees, clutching his neck. Red spills from between his fingers, and the same red drips from the kunai in Raph's hand. 

His eyes. They're not white. Wide and wet and terrified, but not white. 

The laughter stops.

You focus on him, now. He's looking more alive than he has in weeks, his plastron heaving with each shaky breath. The rage that radiates from him is almost a tangible thing, every part of him trembling. 

“Raph?”

He inhales sharply, his head whipping your way. The rage is replaced with something more like grief, and he starts to stagger toward you. You reach for him, and you can't help the smile that spreads across your face when he reaches back. Finally, this nightmare is over. Finally, finally, you-

Movement catches your eye. There's no time to shout before one of Stockman's hands reaches for the remote that's on the floor in front of him. He presses a button, and Raph screams, his hands coming up to clutch at the collar around his neck, and falls to his knees. 

“No!” You scramble toward the remote, pulling it easily from beneath Stockman's weak fingers. Blood has smeared across the buttons, and none of them seem to be labeled, and they all look the same - but Raphael is shrieking, making sounds you've never ever heard him make. You have to make it stop.

You press one at random. Nothing happens, so you press another, then another. The next one makes the screaming stop, and for a moment you think you've done it, but then every muscle in his body goes taut. He starts to convulse and falls onto his side, and now you're the one screaming. 

Small, aborted sounds spill from his lips, and horror threads itself among your veins. You can barely see through your tears, can barely press the buttons with how hard you're shaking, but finally, finally, you hit a button that makes everything go quiet and still. There's a series of clicks, a whirr and a hiss, and the collar breaks into pieces, tumbling onto the floor. 

You rush over, dropping the remote and cradling his head in your hands. “Raph? Raph?!” Clumsy fingers search for a pulse, but all you find is burnt flesh and pinpricks. “Raph, open your eyes. Raphael!” You grip his shoulders, shaking him desperately. Waiting for his eyes to open, for him to smile up at you and ask what all the fuss is about. You wait, and you wait, but he's. He's not. Moving. 

You shake your head, blinking hard. He's stronger than this. He can't be dead. You're just- just not capable of getting a pulse. Because of how thick his skin is. That's all. 

“Raph, I can’t carry you out of here. I need you to wake up, okay? So we can- so we can go home. Okay?”

He doesn't respond. You swallow, glancing toward Stockman. The man is deathly still, sprawled-

Ha. Deathly still. Because he's-

A hysterical laugh bubbles up and out of you, and you wince at the ache in your throat. You realize that you're breathing too quickly. Hyperventilating, the Donnie in your head corrects. Right. Thank you, Donnie. 

“Raph, I need you to wake up now,” you manage between breaths. “I need you to- to-” 

Your legs are starting to ache. They're cramped from sitting on the floor like this for so long. But you can't get up and stretch. Not when Raph is still-

“Raphie, I need you to wake up now. Please?” 

You need to stop crying. You're probably dehydrated, and this isn't helping. Raph never liked seeing you cry. It always made him sad, even if he didn't say it out loud. If you're still crying when he wakes up, he's- he's going to-

“Raph?”

You scrub your face with your forearm, trying and failing to take a deep breath. It hits you all at once, how much pain you're actually in. Your head. Your neck. Your chest. Even your muscles. Everything sort of just… aches. 

But it's okay, because when Raph takes you home he's going to patch you up. Just like you used to do for him, when he would stumble through your bedroom window with a busted lip or a cut on his leg. He'll take care of you, and you'll take care of him. 

“We need to go home so I can patch you up. Like old times,” you remind him, scratching gently along his shoulder. “Remember?”

He doesn't respond. 

“I should've told you back then. That I love you. I don't know why I didn't, I- I guess I was scared. But I'm telling you now, okay?”

He doesn't respond. 

“...Raph?”

Something in your chest gives way. A black hole of an emotion you can't name, because naming it would make it real. 

As if you have any say in it after the fact. It's real regardless of whether you call it by its name. Just like-

You close your eyes, covering your face with your hands. Your fingers brush against your forehead, and it hurts. Everything hurts. And you deserve every bit of it. You did this. It's your fault that he's-

“You love me?”

Everything stops. For a moment you swear even your pulse freezes in time, and then you raise your head to see Raph staring up at you, eyes soft and hazy and alive. Relief crashes over you like a tidal wave, all-consuming, and before you can think better of it you wrap your arms around his neck.

“Of course I do, you fucking asshole!” You pull back, holding his head in your hands and watching his expression switch from surprise to amused confusion. You probably seem like a total lunatic, but you don't even fucking care, because holy shit he's alive. 

You feel his hand pat your arm, and then he's sitting up as if you weren't mourning over his supposed fucking corpse less than a minute ago. You have a terrifying moment where you wonder if you're dreaming, but pinching yourself changes nothing, and you can count all your fingers, and honestly? If this is a dream, you don't want to wake up.

You focus back on him. He's pushing himself up, shaky and clumsy but alive, and when he holds out a hand to you, you take it immediately. The two of you walk past Stockman without a second glance, and by the time you make it outside the building Raph is steady on his feet and moving with purpose. 

Fresh air. The sounds of the city. A second wave of relief crashes over you, and never in your entire life have you felt this grateful. You look at Raph, unable to stop yourself from smiling when he looks back with those soft eyes. 

You see his gaze flicker down, then back up. His expression shifts into despair, his mouth opens, but before he can say anything you speak. 

“Take me home, Red.”

He looks almost surprised at that. Confused. Unsure. You'll need to address that - and several other things - later, when you've both been cleared by Donnie and you've gotten some food and rest. But for now, you pull him into a hug and repeat, “Take me home.”

After a moment's hesitation, he wraps his arms around you. You melt into the embrace, sighing. Then he lifts you, shifting you in his arms so that he can carry you, and holds you close against his plastron. 

“Yeah,” he murmurs, soft eyes on you. “Let's go home.”

-

tag list: @luckycharms1701 @thejudiciousneurotic @khayalli @justalotoffanfiction @thelaundrybitch @mxalmighty @shakeyourtrees @silverwatergalaxy

[probadbatch]

A few thoughts as we head into this finale...

Star Wars was my first love and it's the love that's never left me. From the moment I saw those twin suns set over Tatooine, I was a goner. There have been times when it's been on the back burner, so to speak, but it's always been there and always will be. It's special to me like nothing else.

The Bad Batch is special to me even beyond that.

I've been here since their first appearance in the Clone Wars and I never could have predicted how much the Bad Batch would come to mean to me. This show has been so much more than I ever imagined. It's been joy, it's been heartbreak, it's been intrigue, and it's been hope. These boys and everyone I've met in this corner of fandom have woven their way into my heart in a way I couldn't undo even if I wanted.

I have no intention of packing it up and moving on as soon as the finale is finished. I'm not ready yet. But I imagine there will eventually come a day when even the Bad Batch moves to that back burner in my brain and one day this blog may not appear very active. I promise you I will still be lurking somewhere on tumblr and the Bad Batch is still very much on my mind somewhere.

If you find this post in a year or five or ten, please know that I am always ready to dive right back into peak fangirl mode with you. I will never think it's weird if you reach out and want to talk Star Wars or Bad Batch. Whether you are an old fan like me or just discovering this show for the first time years from now, I already consider us best friends and I will be thrilled to join you in whatever stage of fandom you find yourself in.

I've been a Star Wars fan since I was ten years old. Back then, there were only six movies and I was too young to appreciate that as far as anyone really knew, Star Wars had just closed its final chapter. If there's anything I've learned since then, it's that the story lives on in all of us - and who knows? Maybe one day it will return to the screen too.

Just because this show is wrapping up doesn't mean our love for it will end. Things will begin to look different after tomorrow and that is a little sad to think about but it can still be something we love just as much. Bittersweet as it is, I am looking forward to stepping into that new phase with all of you.

I don't know what's going to happen in the finale. What I do know is that the last few years have been a wonderful gift and I am more grateful than I can ever say. I will cherish this show and the memories it's given me for the rest of my life.

So as this chapter closes and we prepare to move on to the next one, I just want to thank you all for being such an incredible part of this experience for me.

I love you all.

[slightlyhozy]

“Through the Cold, I’ll Find my Way Back to You.”

Chapter 2: “All my love and terror, balanced there between those eyes.”

Characters: Púca! Andrew Hozier-Byrne x Original Female Character

Summary: Maisie Quinn, after inheriting a home in Ireland from her late grandmother, slowly learns a dark past about the land in which it was built on.

Word Count - 2,098

Warnings - None except for animal death and descriptions of their bodies

A/N - I’m still learning how to write longer chapters, I will get better!

That day, I had looked into whatever the hell this Púca was. Seeing that it wasn’t necessarily a danger in any stories made my anxiety ease, which was a bit embarrassing since I didn’t even believe that it existed.

Closing my laptop, I looked around my new bedroom, the wooden floors were effortlessly dusty and cracked. Grunting, I opened my laptop again, in pursuit of finding someone in the area to install new flooring in certain rooms.

Settling was getting easier despite the fact Mary was the only person I really knew, On a good note, I already had a form in for a commission out in Dublin; they wanted me to paint a mural in the lobby of their office building. I figured the best way to go about living in a new country was to make connections anyway.

——————————————————————

That night, I lay with Lenny in my arms, surrounded by blankets, as some movie played. I pressed a kiss on his head as we cuddled. My mind kept drifting back to the monster, my mind constantly justifying why it wasn’t real; I knew it wasn’t real. I thought about the property and area surrounding it; there were never any bad vibes; it always seemed normal.

While thoughts scurried around my head, a familiar scratch caught me off guard, making me jump. The fox.

My head turned to the door, sighing, I was tempted to go and feed the fox. Thinking back to my conversation with Elsie, interfering with wildlife really wasn’t a good idea. I had just moved here, I should at least put the effort into making a good impression, if not to anyone in particular.

As my dog growled, his attention turned to the door, and I began to pet him in an attempt to calm him down. I understood he tended to be protective of me but never like this, over an animal. “Lenny, shhh.” Scratching behind his ears, he whimpered towards the door, moving to lay back beside me.

Trying to focus on the movie, I could hear the creature outside screaming for attention, it was borderline eerie. I continued to sit, it wasn’t my place to feed it, that was the fox’s job.

After ten minutes, I couldn't handle it anymore. Turning off the TV, I stood up and walked to the stairs, going up to my bedroom for the night.

——————————————————————

I grumbled, pulling weeds from the gravel of the garden. I had been at it for hours now, only joined by the sound of Van Morrison singing in my ears and the chirps of birds in the trees. Other than the labor, it was therapeutic.

Sitting back, I took a swig of water, looking around the garden. The weather had been nice, it was early September, so the weather had started getting colder than it was before. The sky was white, and the trees were less vibrant. As I pulled out the invasive plants, my eyebrows raised as my eyes fell on a small mouse.

The furry rodent in question was undoubtedly dead, but the only injury was a bloody wound on its side. As I continued to pull weeds, 3 more bodies were found. Initially, I believed that there was a cat that lurked in my garden, but then also the lack of injury or puncture to the bodies made no sense. I felt as though I was turning into a skeptic or just feeling the effects of my disorder. Before I could spiral, I was brought back to life by a bird call.

Looking up into the tree, I immediately recognized the black stripe along its eyes, much like a bandit’s mask. Oh. It was a shrike, I wasn’t even aware they had those in Ireland. Internally, I thanked myself for having a bird phase, otherwise, I would be sent into a phase of paranoia over dead mice. Still, I was puzzled around the fact that the mice weren’t eaten, simply impaled, then dropped.

I wasn’t too sure what could be wrong with the animals in the area, perhaps there’s a disease spreading amongst species. I wasn’t informed enough to really have a clue, but it was almost creepy.

While I pondered, another bird flew next to perch beside the shrike. After a moment, the two began to squawk and fight with eachother, their beaks clashing. Not being interested in watching what could happen to the smaller bird picking a fight with a brutal predator, I collected my garden tools and water bottle, making my way back to the house.

Lenny was sniffing around the yard as I cleared out the mouse corpses, like I had the other animal on my porch. The sun was slowly setting, and all I could think about was getting a proper drink and starting on a personal art project, the subject of which is still a mystery to me.

——————————————————————

Over the next few nights, the fox seemed to only get more aggressive. I frowned as I stared at my front door, this time, a dead rabbit was left. Did it think that I ran out of food? The rabbit itself would be unedible if I even wanted to eat it, it was completely squished, presumably roadkill. The wood along the door had been scratched, deep. A shiver ran up my spine as my finger reached out to trace the marks, the light inner wood going about half an inch deep. I wasn’t even sure how it was possible, but I also knew that I would now have to invest in new flooring and a door.

I was a bit worried that it would attack me if I didn’t feed it; with no evidence to back this up, any creak or sound outside would make me jump. When I slept, I dreamt of it attacking me or Lenny. So now, after three nights of ignoring the animal, I decided to give in.

It was almost one in the morning, finally, my couch had been installed, freeing me from the pain of having to haul my long limbs off the ground. With a small tub of ice cream in my hand, I was binge-watching Breaking Bad. The sound of Walter White monologing went through one ear, out the other as I anxiously awaited the arrival of the fox. I was almost worried it wouldn’t come. Why was I worried? Why wouldn’t I want it gone?

As if it were summoned, a familiar squaking woke me from my thoughts, immediately sending me to pause my show and put my ice cream somewhere Lenny couldn’t reach. I shushed him with my finger to my lips. As I went to look through the window. To my expectations, the small animal stood on the top of the steps, its green eyes gleaming under the poarch light.

Afraid of any chances of Lenny putting himself in danger, I led the dog to the study, shutting him inside, the door muffling his barks and growls.

In the kitchen, I worked to fix a wet bowl of dog food and a scoop of pumpkin purée on top. Opening the door, the fox stood expectantly. I set the bowl down, quickly moving to shut the glass door so I could see it eat. Again, it’s eyes stalked me as it ate eagerly, as if I had starved it. Perhaps it couldn’t hunt, wouldn’t…? If it couldn’t, where were these dead animals coming from?

——————————————————————

Fresh air. Fresh air was what I needed, space, was what I needed.

The morning after the encounter with the fox, I decided to go to the beach with Lenny. Throwing on a grey knit sweater, black jeans, boots, and a beanie, I clip on Lenny’s leash, his tail wagging faster than it had in a long time. As I go outside, I make sure to clean up the brutalized hedgehog left on my porch, the guts splattered across my porch. As I cleaned up the insides, visibly unhappy, I simultaneously fought Lenny back from eating it.

Smelling the sea was a specific kind of nostalgia, the beach itself wasn’t too different than some back in Washington. The air kisses my cheeks as I fight it, the clashing waves soothing my ears. I clutched the leash, hoping he wouldn’t try and run along the beach.

I felt grateful that there was no one in the morning, just me, my coffee, and my dog. I wonder if I was becoming a loner, back home, I seemed to be going out every day, with friends and making them as well. Now, all I had available was Mary. As much as I enjoyed some alone time, I wondered how long it would take until it became too lonely for me, I wondered how long it would be until I found a routine with my work, more clients, and when I would meet local artists.

Taking in the scent again, I closed my eyes, the cool wind making me feel more grounded and alive than I had in a year. Keeping them closed, I continued to walk into what seemed to be a never-ending path, curving around the water.

As if enjoying my solitude was too much, my eyes scrunched up as my shoulder was bumped. My eyes shot open as I helplessly watched my coffee cup fall against the sand, the contents leaking into the grains. Lenny immediately went to investigate, sniffing and licking the spill.

After picking up the cup, I look up the figure that disrupted my walk. He was tall. Around 9 inches taller than me, his nose and cheeks were a dusty pink from the cold, the coloration obvious from the cold weather.

His beard was nicely groomed, but his hair was messy and greasy.  Above his pronounced cheekbone, there was a small, healing cut across the skin. His eyes were cold and endless, not kind but not uninviting. Where the hell did he even come from?

“Sorry… Uh, I wasn’t paying attention. I wasn’t too sure why I was apologizing, according to my therapist, it was one of my weakest traits. The stranger stepped back, sizing me up.

He didn’t reply, I could hear Lenny by my side, growling lowly. “Really, sorry, he’s just protective... I promise he’s a good dog.”

“It’s alright.” His voice was deep, rich, and smooth like honey, he was hansome in general, just unsettling. He brushed a gloved hand through his brown curls, his green eyes following me.

I wasn’t sure what to do, I was pretty desperate for interactions, and he only seemed 10 years older than me at most. “Nice weather?” I cringed at my terrible use of small talk.

“Alright. Cold.”

“I mean, it usually is... cold.” Awkwardly, I itched at my neck, unsure what to do. “I’m Maisie.” I held my hand out, his eyes just darting to stare at it, not accepting it.

“Andrew. Are you American?”

I swallowed nervously, I didn’t want to come off as an uneducated, arrogant American prick. “Uh, well, yes, I just moved in... I live over..east..” My arm extended to point towards my home.

“I know.” My face immediately grew concerned, he knew? How?

“What do you mean?”

He didn’t reply.

“Andrew… Do you live around here? Or do you like, drive down here for walks.” His brows furrow, as if I were asking something invasive.

“I live near here, I like water.” His hand reaches up to scratch at the scab forming on his face, I notice how one of his glove fingers has the tip torn off.

I nod along awkwardly, maybe he didn’t get out much? “Yeah, me too... It’s nice to live this close to the ocean.” He doesn't answer again. “I lived in Seattle, so I was really far away from the ocean, sometimes, we’d go visit family on the coast.”

His brows furrow. “Where’s that?”

“Washington? Uh, it’s in the Pacific Northwest of America; Kurt Cobain was born there.” He seemed clueless. “Oh…” My face furrows with concern as I see blood, almost black, start to drip down his face. “You…your scab… It’s kind of..” I try to point it out casually, not trying to be rude.

Moving his hand away, Andrew moves to lick his finger, his brows raising. “Oh,” He doesn’t seem too concerned with the color of his blood as he observes it. “Habit.”

“Right,” As I am about to speak more, my phone rings—the flooring installers I had been talking to. “Oh, sorry, I need to take this.” I whisper to him as I back up, pressing my phone to my ear. He just gives me a weak wave as I turn away, waiting for my turn in the cue.

As I turned back around not even a minute later to say goodbye, he was gone. Andrew. The weirdest and one of the rudest men I had ever met.

A/N: ANDREW DOESNT STAY LIKE THIS THE WHOLE TIME I PROMISE HE ISNT BORING

[moodymisty]

It’s good that in the Salamander, civilian and Night Lord (knight, princess and dragon) dynamic the Salamander wins and saves their beloved little mortal in the end. All the hugs and kisses for your big brave space marine who loves you so so much and did everything in his power to save you!!

Because, could you imagine if the worst really did happen? If your Salamander loved you, but not enough to save you? Or maybe the horrible nature of the galaxy you live in behaved as it always does, and nobody genuinely cared enough for you to even question your disappearance? I mean, wouldn’t it just be terrible if a strong and scary astartes stole you away? (twirling my hair) If nobody even protested it because what are you in the end, but one mortal?

Wouldn’t it just be terrifying to wake up late at night and see the tapetum lucidum of his eyes shining brightly at the foot of your bed? That glow which once brought comfort to you with the knowledge that one of the Salamanders, your protectors (they were supposed to be your protectors) were nearby, now having been turned on its head. (giddily kicking my feet)

It’d probably be so frightening, you know. With him being so in love with you. He’s probably never felt these kinds of feelings before, and he couldn’t possibly let that chance pass him by. The cloaks he gifts you would be so comfortable if you didn’t know who they were made from. Not dissimilar to his affection towards you, since there’s always a hint of something inhumanly monstrous lurking in the darkness of his eyes. (Scribbling bright pink love hearts around a photo of a night lord). It’s like he’s teetering at the edge of some abyss, and you’re not even sure what for. Because if he wanted to maim you he would’ve done it weeks ago, and if he wanted to kill you then he would’ve done it the first time you met. And yet that hunger in his eyes only gets stronger and stronger the more time he spends around you. And you’re afraid of what will happen when he looks into that abyss, and finally chooses to fall.

… but that’s all in the past now! Your Salamander spouse would never let any harm happen to you, especially not from another space marine. So you shouldn’t worry yourself over things that will never ever happen. ;)

Putting this ask on the fridge because you got an A fucking + in understanding the dynamic. Like I am vibrating anon you and I are on the same brain wave. I dearly hope I add some things to your musings that you enjoy. tw dubcon and manipulation probably?

This all really plays into this idea that's common in some media; You didn't think you were worth anything, no one listened no one cared not even the Salamander you were close with did, but yet that Night Lord put enough effort into stealing you away. Showing interest in you, keeping you alive, fighting other Night Lords that try and break into his private quarters to get at the little human he guards like a hound with it's kill. Sometimes he returns to you with blood on his armored fingers, splattered across his cheeks. Is it possible to feel safe, but horrifically unsafe around the same man?

Your Salamanders never made you feel this way, but they're not here, only your Night Lord that makes your heart race when he's just barely visible in the shadows of the room with emotions that conflict each other.

He's obsessive, he adores you; But is it the kind of adoration you want? Is it a passing phase, or are you two intertwined forever? Do you want to be intertwined however, when his eyes are like pitch black voids that seem to pull you in deeper each time you struggle?

...Should you struggle?

Because the way he looks at you is like you have something he wants, but you don't know what it is. Do you want to know? Is it yet another level to the emotions and actions he's now getting to experience, or is it that hunger that you see when his eyes land on you? The same hunger that you see when he's sealed in his armor and staring down at another Night Lord that's sniffing around you- like he's about to tear him apart and enjoy doing it.

You'll never have all the answers with him. There will always be things that swirl around in his head you'll never know, and there will always be this tingling on the back of your neck that tells you to run.

Thankfully it's all just a horrible nightmare, and your lovely Salamander comforts you and reassures you that would never happen. :3

[jaim-inhothekid]

 ⎈ 𝐎𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐔𝐩𝐨𝐧 𝐚 𝐃𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦

[ W.C ! ] : 1.5k

[ Summary ! ] : Usopp has been having those vivid dreams about being part of a pirate crew. A certain person starts to appear in his dreams and can't seem to leave his thoughts. He never expected to find them during class a random day. | GN!Reader ; Modern AU

⌗ ✎ Author's Note : This was originally a trade fic for one of the members of my one piece discord server!

Usopp always had his head up in the clouds, a fertile imagination, as his mother would call it. Smiling fondly and nodding along to the crazy stories he would make up on the spot, she would gasp and cover her mouth in disbelief when his tales took an unexpected turn, laugh at the funny parts, wipe her eyes and pout solemnly when a tragedy was told. Always so expressive and genuine, Usopp inherited her best traits. Spontaneity is one, if not the most important, attribute of a storyteller.

Usopp always had a particular fascination with pirates during his childhood. He bragged and boasted about being a brave warrior of the sea, with a fleet of over eighty-thousand men, captain of the most notorious crew to ever grace the seven seas – the usopp pirates, they were called. A plain black shirt that didn't fit him anymore turned into a flag, the jolly roger sloppily painted in gouache, sheets turned into sails held by the cable of a broom he took from his mother to use as a mast – and would deny vehemently to know where it could've possibly gotten. Sat on the deck, the headboard, Usopp would reunite all of his crew mates, his plushies, and set sail for the most wild of adventures all day long, until 10pm because he couldn't go past his bedtime.

He grew out of it with time, as it was never more than a childhood phase of playing pretend. Though the childish wonder about pirates was something that was never quite forgotten, Usopp would catch himself daydreaming about certain scenarios – about a life of utmost freedom and adventure. Maybe his infatuation came with the desire of putting himself in the world, leaving a mark, feeling like he mattered. Usopp wanted to be brave and adventurous and so so much more, acclaimed like king or praised like a God – or just knowing that he was an important part of something that wouldn't be quite the same without him, in that case, a crew.

He thought of the sea, which could be equally terrifying as it was beautiful. The tangy smell of salt in the air, the crash of the waves against the hull of the ship, the steady swaying of it as it navigated through the waters. He thought of all the possibilities that the waters had in store for him – the ocean only had roughly 5% of it discovered by humanity, did it not? What exactly disproves the existence of creatures lurking in its depths? Monsters bigger than he could imagine, with nothing to compare their size to, areas that have never been navigated through, places that have never even been drawn into maps– okay, pause on that thought, it's starting to get disturbing. The pirate fantasy would really lose its spark if Usopp managed to give himself thalassophobia by overthinking the dangers of the sea.

It's been a while, about a month or two, that his imaginations seemed to reach their peak. He even started to dream about them, vividly so, and things like that didn't happen since he was a little kid. He thought about college and that it was probably the culprit of his head being even further into the clouds than it already was on a regular basis. He was getting closer to the week of finals, after all.

However, his dreams started to feature a new element ever since, and for that, he had no explanation. Said element was a new person, with eyes like shining rhinestones – that reminded him of the brightest starry sky he could think of, beautiful like diamonds, and just as unforgettable To his frustration, Usopp would always wake up before he had the chance of asking for their name, and to his anticipation, he knew that he would see them again once his drowsy eyes fell closed when his head hit the pillow.

Mx. Mystery, as he decided to refer to them, became the main character of his mind. With their beautiful smile and contagious laughter and tooth rotting sweet disposition that left him feeling all tingly as a dumb smile tugged on his lips. Staring off the windows of his classroom with them on his mind, replaying the dream he had the previous night, feeling giddy about what scenario would he dream about with them tonight when he got home–

“Excuse me,” came a voice next to him, “Is this seat taken?”

Usopp immediately turned his head to the source of the voice, ready to reply… but no words came out. Everything he could've possibly have said died in his throat when he saw an unmistakable face with a familiar pair of gentle eyes.

Eyes…

Huh?!

That's them! 

But… wait, what?

The person of his dreams…!

He blinked up at them, and then at the seat… oh, right, he put his bag there. “Uh, n– no! Um, sorry, let me just–,” Usopp stuttered, laughing awkwardly as he took the bag into his lap and wiped the seat clean. Why did he even do that? He was so weird when he got nervous “There! There, uh, it's free”

Mx. Mystery didn't seem to mind him stumbling over himself, as they wordlessly flashed him a sweet smile and sat themselves in the seat next to him, offering him their hand for a handshake “I'm Y/N” they said, and it was like Usopp finally got the final clue for a mystery he spent his whole life trying to discover.

“The name's Usopp,” he said, a smile of his own stretching over his lips, more confident this time “It's nice to meet you”

Conversation flowed easily with Y/N, and he honestly barely paid attention to the lesson at all while they were by his side, they talked about anything and everything – each word that left their lips got him over the moon, he never met someone who had so much in common with him! He wished for this specific day to last 72 hours minimum because he didn't want to phantom the idea of having to bid them goodbye.

As they talked, Y/N told him all sorts of things about themselves  to which he reciprocated by telling them more about himself as well. Y/N was in their first period of college and recently moved cities because of their scholarship, Usopp clung onto every word they told him about their major and why they chose it. Usopp told them about how he was born and raised on a small island near the beach and was a graphic design major. He was currently working on a personal project for a comic book – about a pirate kid who ate a magical fruit that gave him powers, but in turn, took his ability to swim.

“Imagine living in the sea and not knowing how to swim!” Y/N laughed, their cheek resting on their fist as they propped up their elbow on the desk “That's really ironic"

“I know!” Usopp nodded, crossing his arms over his chest, grinning proudly as he could get the whole point of it across “That's why I wrote it”

“Y'know, sometimes I have these dreams about being in a pirate crew. It's kinda weird”

Usopp paused, and in that moment, it was like the whole world paused along with him.

“... I don't think it's weird”

Their conversation didn't stop there. In fact, they seemed to have even more to talk about after that point. They had so much in common that Usopp couldn't help but wonder where have they been all his life, that it felt too good to be true, that it looked like he was still imagining things– until Y/N tugged on his sleeve, nodding their chin towards the door, the class ended 10 minutes ago.

“Hey, do you know the little coffee shop down the street? The one next to the Skypiea building?” They asked, already jumping out of their seat as they urged Usopp to do the same.

“Are you kidding?! I love that shop!”

“Really!? Oh my god, me too!”

And so they went, walking side by side, fingers shyly brushing against each other with every step, growing closer just to steadily grow apart again. For some reason, they grew quieter as they walked off the campus – eyes meeting, a mutual searching for something, and then looking away. The silence stretched uncomfortably as they exchanged those glances, searching for familiar traits in one another.

Usopp had the sudden urge to ask about the dreams. He cleared his throat, puffed out his chest – and then thought it over, and a third time. Would they think he's a weirdo for it? It's a possibility because dreaming about the same scenario is one thing, but asking a person you just met if they also dreamed of you was bordering on crazy. But also, he felt like he needed to say something about it, anything. He glanced at Y/N from the corner of his eyes, immediately looking away when he realized they were looking first, his cheeks felt hot. Get your act together!

Deep breath, don't think about it, he turned to them to speak his thoughts. Y/N seemed to have the exact same thing on their mind when he turned to them, because their mouth was already open and words were spilling out of it, coming in unison with his own.

“I think i saw you in my dreams”

[pinkanonwrites]

Coffee Break

I wasn’t joking about getting really into Hi-Fi Rush, especially Chai. <3 I haven’t found any Chai/Reader fics yet, so I wanna thank y’all for joining me as I wander into this brave new frontier! And as I said in my friend’s Hi-Fi Rush stream, “the world gave me two silly failboys with a robot arm at once and im gonna dual wield them like samurai swords”

1,800+ Words

GN! Reader, Barista Reader, puns, pining Chai (I totally see him as the type to be so pathetic with a crush, but as soon as he knows you like him back he goes back to full cockiness)

"Alright, mission report. Just picking up a coffee, no big deal. Order something simple, yet masculine. Something that screams 'confidence.' Make some small talk, throw in a wink, end with something open to meeting again, nothing too final. 'See you next time?' No, no, way too forward. 'Catch ya later?' Ooh, now we're talking. Just the right mix of laid-back and friendly. You got this, big man. You totally got this!"

"Chai, what the hell are you doing?"

If Chai let out a very uncool yelp at Peppermint getting the jump on him like that, at least she had the decency to do it before he was within earshot of you. He wheeled around, stumbling into her and shoving her back around the building corner he was peeking around as he watched you work.

"Peppermint! Heyyy… What are, uh, what are you doin' here?"

She cocked a single, dark eyebrow in his direction. "Uhh, getting a coffee? That's what the cafe is for, isn't it?"

"Pshh, yeah, totally. Totally… Coffee."

Truth be told Chai wasn't even that big of a coffee fan. If you slapped a hot coffee and a tall can of a chilled energy drink on the table in front of him he'd definitely choose the sugary-sweet brainrush over the bitter bean water. But he wasn't lurking awkwardly around the courtyard outside the Vandelay campus cafe for coffee. He was doing it for you.

Roxanne Vandelay had always enjoyed the comfort and connections of human staff, something Kale was quick to phase out in his hostile takeover. When she stepped back into the director’s seat one of her first orders involved repopulating the island with human and robot staff alike, making sure even the smallest and most insignificant stations on Vandelay Island had everyone and everything they needed to run smoothly. Apparently, the on-campus cafe was included among those stations. Once the program that nuked the coffee machines to only run decaf was cracked the cafe once again became a hotspot for curious droids and exhausted techies chasing their much-needed fix. Chai, on the other hand, really had no need to stop by other than for an occasional morning donut. Which is when he first saw you.

He was just leaving the cafe when you all but ran into him, hair a mess and an apron slung over your arm. When he nearly fumbled his donut you reached out and snatched the tissue-wrapped treat from its inevitable demise, shoving it back into his hand.

“Ah! I’m so sorry! Please have a good day!” You gave him a smile and a slight bow before dipping under his arm and into the breezeway, leaving him reeling in your wake. He felt… electrified. His fingertips where they brushed yours and the shoulder that you bumped as you scooted past tingled like he’d just touched a live wire, just struck a perfect chord. He couldn’t even string a sentence together before you were out of earshot, and you left him stumbling blearily back to Peppermint’s new office with what was certainly a wonderstruck grin upon his face.

That was the first and only time Chai ever ran into you. Every time he tried to approach the cafe from that point on he locked up like he was at his middle school talent show, sweaty, hands trembling. It drove him crazy; he could batter giant murder robots with nothing but a piecemeal guitar and a rhythm in his chest, but he couldn’t even bring himself to talk to one barista?

But today was the day. Or, it would have been the day, if Peppermint hadn’t thrown him off of his rhythm like that.

“Then why are you hanging around the corner like a freak?” She countered.

“No reason! Just… enjoying the weather! You know how it is; I’m a free spirit, Peppermint! Gotta go where the wind takes me.”

“Riiiiight. Well, not all of us can be free spirits, Chai. Some of us need to get back to work. So if you’d excuse me…”

“Waitwaitwaitwaitwait hold on a moment! Not yet!” Chai scrambled to grab Peppermint but she was already stepping around the corner, only to get the perfect view of you as you played rock-paper-scissors with the other droid behind the counter, (probably to figure out who got to go on break first.) She looked at you, then back at Chai, then back at you, then Chai again, her confused expression twisting into a mirthful smirk with each back and forth glance.

“Ohh, so that’s how it is. I get it. Never really took you for the ‘secret admirer’ type, Chai.” She gave him the smuggest grin, one extremely reminiscent of the one he gave her when he first learned about Peppermint’s little thing for Korsica.

“This isn’t how anything is, so don’t try getting all smug with me!” He waggled an accusatory finger at her from behind the corner, pink starting to creep across his cheeks. “And it’s not a ‘secret admirer thing.’ I’m just, y’know, picking my moment! Biding my time. Like a tiger.”

“Do you want to eat them or date them?...Actually, don’t answer that. I don’t wanna gag.”

“I wasn’t even gonna say anything!”

“You didn’t have to, I could see it on your face. Now c’mon, rockstar.” With a determined expression and a fistful of Chai’s signature scarf, Peppermint began hauling him towards the doors of the cafe. “It’s your lucky day, you got your own personal wingwoman to keep you from making a fool of yourself.”

“Whoa, whoa, hold on a minute! C’mon, you don’t-Peppermint!”

Before he could even protest, much less fight back, she had already dragged him around the corner and through the glass doorway and to the counter of the cafe. Only then did she relinquish his scarf, whispering over her shoulder just loud enough for only Chai to hear.

“By the way, if you run away now I’m never gonna let you live it down.”

Shit.

You hadn’t been looking at the door when Peppermint dragged him in by the scruff, thank god, but you were certainly looking now. As you glanced up to the counter and caught her gaze your bored expression morphed into a friendly, familiar smile. “Hey Peppermint! Same as usual?”

“You got it. And something for wonderboy back here, on me.” She snuck a hand behind Chai and shoved him towards the counter, nearly making him fall flat on his face. As soon as your eyes met his Chai could feel his brain fire into panic mode, opening his mouth but no sound able to come out. He snapped it shut again, hoping he wasn’t as visibly red as he felt.

You blinked once, twice, before your eyes widened and flooded with recognition. “Oh my god, donut boy!”

“Uhh… what?” Peppermint asked. Only then did you seem to realize you’d actually said that aloud, hands flying to clap over your mouth as your expression twisted in horror.

“Oh my god I’m so sorry. That’s just what I call you. I mean, to my coworkers.” You rambled between your fingers, no longer able to meet Chai’s gaze in your embarrassment. “I almost ran you over that one time and I haven’t seen you here since, so I was really worried I freaked you out or something. I’m really sorry! I was in a hurry, and I didn’t even really apologize or anything, I just... What do you want to drink? It’s on me. Really.”

Chai swallowed hard, opened his mouth, and spit out the first four words that came to mind.

“What do you like?”

You looked relieved, anxiety practically melting from your stance as you smiled at him in a way that made him feel like his legs were made of jelly. “I’ve got a few favorites! What’s your name? I’ll call when it’s done.”

“It’s-It’s, uh… Chai. It’s Chai.”

“Alright! Gimme just a few minutes, okay, I’ll get everything ready for you.”

“Cool.”

As he and Peppermint stepped off to the side of the counter, she leaned over and murmured to him.

“Coulda been worse. And your voice didn’t crack or anything. Good job rockstar.”

“I think my heart is gonna explode.” He hissed back.

“This is scarier than almost getting mauled to death by a robot werewolf?”

“Way scarier.”

Peppermint hummed, a small smile on her face. “They remembered you, though.”

You remembered him. Not only did you remember him, you wanted him to come back so you could apologize, then felt bad when you couldn’t.

“God, get that look off your face. I can practically hear the wedding bells in your head.” Peppermint elbowed him hard in the upper side, blowing away his fantasies of brushing fingertips and cupping warm drinks like dust onto the wind.

“Killjoy. I thought you were supposed to be helping me?”

“I did, and look how easy it was! You owe me big time.”

“For shoving me into a counter?”

“Drinks for Peppermint and Chai!” You interrupted their bickering with a wave and a smile, beckoning them over to the counter. “Tall Café Americano for Peppermint, and for Chai…” You pressed a tall, frothy drink dusted with cinnamon into his hand with a shy grin. “Chai Spiced Latte. Hope you like it.”

Chai couldn’t decide if he wanted to climb over the counter and propose to you there, or just keel over and instantly perish on the cafe’s stained carpet, so instead he nodded and gave you a strained “Thanks!”

“Oh! I threw in something extra too, on the house. You like donuts, so I hope you’ve got a sweet tooth.” Into his other hand you placed a little brown paper bag, the kind used for to-go treats like scones and muffins.

“Oh yeah he does. We’ll see you around, alright?” Peppermint gave you a nod and jerked a free thumb in Chai’s direction. “I’ll drag this one along next time too.”

“Looking forward to it.” You smiled, leaning over the counter to rest your chin on your hands. Peppermint almost groaned, but was able to keep the vaguely disgusted noise inside. Great, now she had two pining idiots to look after. Birds of a feather, she supposed. “I’ll see you guys around, then.”

“Yeah…” Chai drawled in a dreamy tone. “I mean, yeah! Catch ya later… alligator…?” Both he and Peppermint visibly winced but you just giggled, and if Chai could get the sound of it tattooed into his eardrums he absolutely would.

“In a while… Crocodile.~”

“...You two are disgusting.” Peppermint groaned as soon as the cafe door swung shut behind her. “Aren’t you glad you had me around to get your ass moving?... Chai? Hellooooo? Earth to Chai?”

But Chai was far beyond the call of Earth. Inside the little bag you’d handed him was a single cake pop, frosted red and decorated with a little black music note. Scrawled across the napkin tucked around it was a name and a phone number, along with a little doodle of a kitty face tucked into the corner. No, Chai was most certainly in heaven.

“We’re gonna have a spring wedding.” He sighed. “Do you think they like rock music?”

Peppermint groaned, taking a long, slow swig of her coffee. “What have I gotten myself into…?”

[equinoxts2]

Senaverse Lorepost: The Trail of Life

I've been trying to work with, rather than against, the limitations of TS2 coding for a while now. One of my biggest sticking points in the past has been age stages - feeling like they had to "make sense" by earthly human standards, dealing with the curfew coding that pushes children and teens to leave community lots at a certain hour, wanting meaningful rites of passage instead of "bam, you're an adult"...

But! I'm finally at a point where I'm satisfied with my explanation for how ageing works in the Senaverse, so ramble incoming!

Instead of thinking in terms of the seven Maxis life stages, I've divided the Trail of Life into thirteen phases. Thirteen has always been a significant number in my life, and also represents wholeness in Nuidya numerology. Each phase has its own challenges, limitations, benefits and characteristics. Not everyone reaches the same phase at the same time, but in general it works like this:

Hatchling Phase is, for most people in the Senaverse, the first phase of life - in other words, the baby stage. It lasts for at least a starband and a day, so I don't have newborns becoming toddlers in the same rotation they were born.

Warded Phase is the early toddler stage, when magical protections are in place to prevent the toddler leaving the lot. At around the midway point of the life stage, the toddler enters the Wandering Phase, where they can leave their home lot if they're accompanied by an older household member - this is achieved by a mod.

Child stage begins with the Emerging Phase - growing out of infancy, though still protected by some wards. In my house rules, they still cannot leave the home lot on their own. When a child transitions to Charging Phase - named for both the phase's boundless energy and building up to the rites of passage - they can start going places alone (thanks to my Children Walk to Lots mod) as long as they're back home by nightfall. This is because things lurk in the darkness on Juvash, things that you really need a strong will and knowledge of the proper ritual to escape from...

Anyway! Early teenhood (a period that covers the ages of thirteen to twenty-five on Juvash) is the Flux Phase. I used to use a teen mood swing mod, but had problems with it, so I now use fway's "Unstable" personality and interest change mods to simulate the Flux Phase. It is a time for trying out new things, but also making the last few preparations for the rites of passage, which take place around Blossoming Phase, usually mid-to-late teen stage. This is the point where a young sim is considered an adult, though they are discouraged from choosing partners or starting families until they know themselves better.

The university subhood of Kulo Sena actually represents a journey into the Spirit World - one that is not a requirement, or even a certainty. If you get the calling, that's where you go for the next nine starbands. Fittingly, YA is the Called Phase.

Adulthood is the only life stage split into three phases. They are Open Phase, the point when a sim starts considering their trade and family options; Adept Phase, when they are more established in those areas and generally know what their role in the community is; and Trueself Phase, the precursor to elderhood, when some sims actually begin to evolve into new forms that reflect their inner nature.

Epic Phase is elderhood. TS2 elders don't lose any skills or abilities, but do have the benefit of life experience, so on Juvash, this is the most powerful stage... aside from another phase that not everyone reaches: Ascended Phase. Ascended sims are taken into their local pantheon of ancestors, becoming effectively immortal, and being townified.

This is what happens when I can't sleep.

[uhohbestie]

Hi! I literally JUST finished reading TAMN and it is easily one of the best scarian fics like. of all time. in my opinion. but for context i binged it for a bit at first and then took a bit of a break for my heart to recover and then came back to finish it off, so i’ve been sort of avoiding discussion about it on here as to not be spoiled until now.

That is to say i’m not sure what questions have already been asked and answered and while i’ve tried to scroll through the asks to check i’m very behind so i apologize if this has already been touched on BUT

Do you ever plan to reveal what happened with Joel, or is that something you plan to leave ambiguous? Or Lizzie? I got so attached to him during his relatively short time in the fic and my god the gunshot scene- Its going to haunt me a little not knowing if he lived or not, but I also fully understand if that’s not a question you intend to answer.

I’m also curious if they ever end up meeting with mumbo (i’m assuming that was the aforementioned “mustache man” because who else) or found pearl, also is Scott alive out there somewhere in this AU? Did Cub survive? I know I’m asking way too many questions and I don’t really expect answers to all of if any of them, but if any extra details are allowed i’d love to hear them.

Regardless thank you so much for writing this fic, it’s clear there was a lot of love poured into it and that was reflected in the absolute emotional rollercoaster it took me on. The world and the characters and the tension was all completely captivating, I felt absorbed in it all in a way I only ever really experience once in a blue moon and it’s something I cherish. This fic is always going to stick with me, and I can tell by all the fan works that have been made that I’m not the only one, so congrats on putting something out there that managed to resonate with so many people. I’m thinking about joining the discord sometime soon, but I need a minute to process the emotions I’m having over making it to the end of this fic now haha. Anyway I didn’t mean to make this into a whole essay, so thank you if you actually take the time to read my rambling, and I hope your pillow is nice and cold for you tonight :)

Aaa thank you SO much, we're both so happy that you enjoyed TAMN!! As long time long-fic readers ourselves, it was so special for us to get to write and share it, and hearing that people enjoyed it as much as they did has given us both SO much happiness. It means a lot!!! <3 <3

As for your questions!!!

Some of them we can answer, and some of then we'd like to keep vague and ambiguous on purpose. I know for a fact that writing Lizzie/Pearl's side-story is something both Key and I are champing at the bit to get to, and we're also very interested in writing some prequel portions of the Redwood compound in their earlier "establishing" phase, while also continuing to explore Scar and Grian's story (both in pre-zombie apocalypse vignettes, and in post-epilogue one-shots). Other parts we don't want to promise because admittedly it's a world that could easily expand infinitely and we are but two lowly writers, and even more is going to be left open-ended on purpose, because it invites people to get creative on their own, and that "oh my gosh, what do you think happened HERE.... do you think maybe....?" is one of the things that got us so invested in fandom and fanfic ourselves in the first place.

Which!!! (shameless segue) brings me to the TAMNcord Discord!!!

Honestly and for true, some great "what if..." conversation occurs there pretty much daily by the incredible people that TAMN has attracted. Anyone and everyone is welcome to join, and feel free to simply lurk and observe if you'd like! If that's of interest to you (or anyone reading this) then we'd love to have you!

Thank you again for reading TAMN, I'm so happy you liked it :') <3 <3 -🔒

[hetalianskywalker]

Day 11: To Swim With A Siren

Pairing: Siren Waxer x Pirate Reader

Summary: Your siren boyfriend asks you to come for a swim.

Author’s Note: Commander Cody is definitely grumbling about having a credit for each time one of his men fell in love with a pirate. And while he would only have two credits, it’s weird it happened twice. 😂

Warnings: Sirens drowning people like in old folklore is mentioned. I think that is it.

Word Count: 869

Prompt: “It’s sweltering today,” the mermaid/man said, fins creating a little wake in the water as they swished back and forth along the side of the ship. “The sun must really beat down up there. Especially when you’re at the helm steering all day.”

The pirate propped one boot heavily atop the bulkhead, leaning one elbow on their knee to peer over the edge and into the siren’s sea foam eyes. “You know if you want me to go swimming with you, you really need to confirm whether or not you plan to drown me.”

Short Prompt # 19 by thepenultimateword

You know today is going to be a good day when you hear soft singing in the morning. It stops as you get out of bed. Quickly, you turn to look out your port hole to catch the last wisp of an orange and white fin.

You race for the deck and lean over the railing, but you're surprised to see he’s not there. You frown down at the water. You couldn’t have imagined that right?

“Waxer?” You call out at the open sea. Oh your crew is definitely going to tease you later. You are so head over heels you were losing your damn mind. You groan, pinching the bridge of your nose.

“Everything alright love?” You blink before being met with the bright smile of your siren. The sharp teeth and claws don’t phase you as you arch a playful eyebrow down at him.

“Fine, now. Where were you?”

“Making sure your crew don’t bother us for a little while.” Waxer smiles sheepishly up at you. You had been so excited to see him that you now notice how eerily quiet it was for this late in the morning.

“Waxer…” You say, with a mix of a groan and a laugh.

“Most of your men wanted to sleep anyway so it was just a gentle nudge. I think you’ve been overworking them on the last few heists.” You immediately roll your eyes; more like your men had a bit too much to drink last night.

“Speaking of overworking, how is General Kenobi?” You had met the sarcastic Jedi General after getting screwed over in a deal with Hondo Ohnaka; specifically, the other pirate captain had left you to deal with Republic fallout. Thankfully, Grievous had decided to try and attack Kenobi again. After fighting your way out, you kept running into the 212th on the high seas. The Jedi always looked more tired every time you saw him, but he oddly seemed fairly happy to see whenever you crossed paths. You burst out laughing when Waxer told you it was partly because he was thankful to get a break from Hondo.

“He’s…” Waxer frowns for a second. “He’s doing okay. The war is taking its toll on everyone.” You are both silent for a long moment then it finally dawns on you: why the kriff was he alone out here?

“So where is he and the 212th?” You tease, trying to lighten the mood. “Boil is going to rant at both of us if you snuck off.” He laughs softly and points to a speck in the distance.

“I got permission. Don’t worry.” He grins up at you. “But Boil is probably going to rant at us either way.”

“He really doesn’t like me huh?” The other Mer clone couldn’t seem to stand you, but you knew he was just being protective of his brother.

“Not at all.” Waxer laughs; his tail happily flicking around in the water. You close your eyes a second and savor that sound. Sadly, all good things must come to an end.

“As much as I want to flirt with you the whole day, you mind waking up my crew?”

“As you wish.” You watch him vanish under the water before as soft song hits the air.

Your crew knew immediately who was lurking in the water when they saw how good of a mood you were in. You would pay for it tonight though when they all called you lovesick.

For a few hours, Waxer remains out of sight with only the occasional melody to remind you he’s still around. You stand at the helm steering the ship in the hot sun and the heat just continues to climb as time passes. Eventually, you pass the job off to your first mate for a breather.

“It’s sweltering today,” Waxer said, orange and white fins creating a little wake in the water as they swish back and forth along the side of the ship. “The sun must really beat down up there. Especially when you’re at the helm steering all day.”

You prop one boot heavily atop the bulkhead, leaning one elbow on your knee to peer over the edge and into the siren’s brown eyes.

“You know if you want me to go swimming with you, you really need to confirm whether or not you plan to drown me.” You tease, knowing full well Waxer is one of the kindest souls you know. You trust he would never do that to you.

“Now why would I drown my future riduur?” The truthfulness makes your face immediately heat up.

“You win.” You set your hat, jacket, and boots to the side before diving into the water. Waxer immediately wraps you in a hug with his tail twisting around you when you breach the surface. You joyfully laugh, resting your arms around his neck.

“I missed you, Waxer.” You lean your forehead against his.

“I missed you, too.” He then grins playfully up at you. “Let’s have some fun before my ride gets here hm?” He pulls you in for a soft kiss, blocking out the world. As the Negotiator got closer, you and Waxer were going to make your time together count.

[hersweetserenade]

— It began almost imperceptibly, like a shadow cast upon a sunlit room, slipping in through a crack without announcement. Perhaps it was a glance in the mirror, just a casual look. But there, in the soft light of morning, you noticed it—a rounding in the belly, subtle yet obstinate, a fullness that hadn’t receded in weeks, months even. And then the thighs, those faithful limbs that had carried you through life without complaint, seemed to touch in a way they hadn’t before, a closeness you could feel in every step. But it was nothing, you told yourself, a momentary lapse of the body, an aberration, perhaps. You thought, surely, tomorrow it would not seem so…noticeable.

Days passed, but the thought lingered, curling around your mind like smoke you could not wave away. You began to think of health, of balance, of moderation. Yes, perhaps that was all that was needed—a little adjustment here, a touch of discipline there. You told yourself it was simply about well-being. And so, in the mornings, you reached for oatmeal instead of bread, chia water instead of coffee, and almond milk, pale and thin, in place of the rich, creamy fullness you once loved. It wasn’t deprivation, no, but a refinement, a choice towards something cleaner, something lighter. And the thought calmed you, for wasn’t this the way forward? Weren’t you doing the right thing?

But it was not enough. Soon you found yourself looking into the depths of detox water, as if purity could be bottled, as if the clarity of that drink might somehow wash away whatever it was you saw reflected in the mirror. And then there was fasting—not with hunger, but with resolve, a quiet, steely determination that nestled itself within you. You watched the clock, counted the hours, and with each pang of hunger that passed unfulfilled, you felt a dark satisfaction growing within, a sense of mastery over the body’s demands.

Still, there were nights when the doubts crept in like whispers from a place beyond your control. You would find yourself scrolling through old photos, videos taken in happier, freer moments, scrutinizing each frame, searching for some assurance, some evidence that perhaps you had not changed, not really. Or had you? You couldn’t be sure anymore. There was a part of you that wanted to dismiss it all, that longed to sink into the simple pleasure of a good meal without calculation, without that ever-present awareness creeping in like an unwelcome guest. You had loved food, hadn’t you? Loved the warmth of it, the life in it. And yet, here you were, on the precipice of a fear you couldn’t quite name.

And yet, it was not so much the idea of restriction, of deprivation that haunted you, but rather the terror of what you might become. You did not want to fall into that abyss, that darkness where hunger becomes a twisted salvation, where control becomes a cage. No, you were strong enough, you told yourself, wise enough to see the edge, to stop before it was too late. You were not like those people. You were in control. Weren’t you?

Yet the fear remained, an insidious thing that had burrowed into your mind, silent but unyielding. And it was not a fear of what you were, but what you might yet become. In the quiet of the night, you would feel its cold touch, the shiver of something dark and unnameable lurking in the shadows of your thoughts. You wanted to believe it would pass, that this was merely a phase, a passing storm. But some part of you, deep down, sensed that the path had already been set, that each small step taken in the name of health, of purity, of control, was drawing you closer to something you could not turn away from, a place where fear and desire blended into one.

So you went on, clinging to the fragile belief that you were still in command, that the whispers in your mind were merely that—whispers. But in your heart, you felt it, the slow, inexorable drift towards something you had always feared, something that watched you with eyes cold and knowing, biding its time. It was a fear that had become part of you now, a presence that walked beside you, silent and patient, waiting.

[asktheritobowyer]

What's the scariest thing you ever experienced? Other then nearly dying to Vah Medoh while trying to attack it, if that was your first answer.

As I sit down to think about some of the scariest moments experienced, I can’t help but chuckle at the absurdity of it all. Sure, nearly dying while battling Vah Medoh with Teba was an adrenaline-fueled experience I’ll never forget. But there’s another moment that stands out even more vividly in my memory. The aftermath of the Upheaval and the perpetual blizzard that enveloped Rito Village.

I saw the fear in the eyes of the Rito as they struggled to cope with the unyielding snow that choked their home. It was a chilling sight, one I would never forget.

The Upheaval had brought chaos, reshaping not only the land but the lives of its inhabitants. I could see the impact of the blizzard first-hand. The once vibrant village, alive with laughter and song, now felt like a haunting echo of its former self. The Rito people, known for their resilience and spirit, were grappling with the harsh realities of an unrelenting winter. Their feathered gradually forming shivered against the biting cold, and their faces were etched with worry as they struggled to find food and warmth.

Seeing my people so distressed was frightening in a way that transcended physical danger. The spectre of hopelessness loomed large, and I felt a gnawing fear for our future. The relentless cold not only affected our livelihoods but also threatened our very way of life. As I interacted with my people, I was struck by how their eyes, once bright with the joy of flying freely through the skies, were now dimmed by anxiety and despair. Things weren't easy.

It made me realize that the true horror lay not just in the battles fought or the monsters encountered, but in witnessing the aftermath of devastation. The Rito, who once soared high above the cliffs, were now confined to their village, held captive by the icy grip of the blizzard. They were struggling to adapt to a new normal, facing challenges that would test their spirit and resolve. The fear of losing their identity, their culture, and their home was palpable.

I ventured out into the frozen wilderness alongside other Rito Warriors, searching for resources and allies, always reminding myself that the true spirit of Hyrule lies in its people and their resilience.

Teba had his work cut out for him as Rito Elder, and his duties prevented him from flying out to investigate the problem himself. It didn't help that Tulin had become arrogant with his skills, opting to do things himself, essentially making the same mistake Teba did several years back with Vah Medoh. I'm sure the young ball of feathers was causing Teba and Saki a lot of headaches.

Seeing Link again after his mysterious disappearance helped ease my tensions tremendously. But even then, I noticed things were of about him, particularly the fact that one of his arms, was alien looking, and it looked like he just came back from the deepest pits of hell. I felt sorry for the guy. I couldn't begin to imagine what he went he went through.

Still, Link's arrival like many years ago, really lifted all of our spirits when all was said and done. He set Tulin straight, after his phase of arrogance, his aid allowed them to both deal with the creature that caused the never-ending blizzard, and Tulin awakened as the Sage of Wind. After that whole ordeal I made it my personal mission to help aid Link within the Looking Landing, if Link was going to go out of his way, to help everyone in need, it's only fitting that I do the same for him.

In retrospect, the scariest thing I’ve ever experienced wasn’t just the threat of danger to myself or the chilling encounter with Vah Medoh, but also the collective struggle of the Rito, facing a future filled with uncertainty. It was a reminder that in Hyrule, danger often lurks where you least expect it, and we have no choice but to face them head-on.

In the end, I learned that while fear may grip us in moments of despair, it is the courage to stand together and face the unknown that truly defines us.

[sharpth1ng]

I hope it's okay to ask you that. I realised I'm trans about a year ago. I usually say I'm a transman so ppl don't get confused but I'd say I'm more non-binary, just very far on the masc spectrum. I was just wondering if you also had like a honeymoon phase? The euphoria I felt was quite intense and my body disphoria wasn't too bad I thought I could handle it. But now the euphoria died down a little and I'm constantly questioning myself and tze dysphoria hit me hard too this week. I think it's the backlash of my family tho that made my excitement die down... I thought After the honeymoon phase it would settle in more comfortably and not make me more anxious. Sorry, now I'm rambling... You don't have to answer this ofc, but idk, in case you wanna share

Hey, I think what you're going through is super normal (as much as it's not fun).

In my experience dysphoria can be something that fluctuates for a wide variety of reasons. I'll talk about it and maybe you'll relate, but don't take this as an exhaustive list it's just based on my experience and I can't speak for everyone.

1. Experiencing transphobia, even indirectly or in microaggressions can trigger dysphoria.

This could be something like watching transphobic content online, or even something like coming out to someone and having them respond with confusion or what I can only describe as disappointment (yk that thing when cis people say they need to mourn the gender you had before). It could also be something much more malicious and dangerous than that, but I'm not going to get into that here.

It's an othering experience, it highlights your identity in a negative way, and it's easy to have old patterns of internalized transphobia wake up in response to that. Even now that I've completed all the medical transition that I ever will that kind of experience that can trigger older dysphoria.

Especially having to deal with family that doesn't understand or people who question you, that kind of stuff can really get in your head and turn you against yourself.

A big contributor to this lately is people fear mongering about how HRT will irreversibly destroy your body (it wont), and make you unattractive based on cis standards (it often doesn't, but why should we care about that?). It presents a medically transitioning body as horrific, and shames those who don't transition medically for not being 'real' (which is also bullshit).

Early in my transition i was confronted with so many people questioning how i really know, and it freaked me out, made me question myself constantly. It made me forget that I know because I feel it. Thats the only evidence you can have for your own gender identity. No one else, not even the most qualified psychiatrist, is able to figure that out for you.

2. Sometimes when you treat one kind of dysphoria you realize that it was drowning out another kind of dysphoria.

This happened to me a few times, like when I got people to start using he/him pronouns and my physical dysphoria got a lot more noticeable. It happened again when I finally got top surgery and my bottom dysphoria decided to get a lot worse.

This obviously isn't going to happen to everyone, but for me it felt like once I was happy with my pronouns and my chest, then my brain had time to focus on something that had always been lurking in the background.

I had always had a level of bottom dysphoria, but I think there's sort of different stages. Like early on you just feel sort of disconnected from a body part, then maybe you start to associate it with confusion and anxiety, and then once you realize that its something you can maybe change is when it really feels the worst, at least consciously.

Its not a new kind of dysphoria materializing out of nowhere, it's just that sometimes one type of pain can hide another type of pain, and when that first type is cured you notice the second.

I wouldn't go back on any of my transition. Before my dysphoria was hurting me in much more harmful and hidden ways, but there's a unique kind of pain that comes from allowing yourself to fully feel something for the first time. You can ride it out, it will fade, you'll find a way to treat it or you'll find a way to manage it if you can't. But it does really suck to get blindsided by that.

3. When you aren't binary or when you're fluid in either gender or presentation, there's a kind of dysphoria from being forced into an arbitrarily binary world that is hard to escape.

Im having a hard time figuring out exactly how to explain this one so I'm going to start in talking about my own experience.

I feel a need to have a masculinized body, and medical transition was absolutely necessary for me. I'd much rather be referred to with he pronouns than she pronouns, and the natural way I emote and carry my body is often perceived as more masculine than feminine.

All of that is true but I also don't know how to understand myself as a man the way other men are (this is just me, i know for a fact other trans men feel like men in the exact same way other men do). He pronouns are better than she, but it/its pronouns are the only ones that make me happy.

I don't really identify with colonial conceptions of gender in general. My understanding of gender means that I just don't think any of our pre-made categories are particularly useful because the traits we use to define them are mostly arbitrary. I don't like dissecting my identity along lines drawn by a system that doesn't represent me.

I tell most people I'm a trans man. I did used to identify that way but over time I've realized the language that feels like it actually captures me is 2spirit. A lot of people don't know what that is though, and I often don't have the energy for an explanation of the fact that our gender and sexuality categories are a colonial construct. When I do, it opens me up to hearing a bunch of anti-indigenous bullshit.

(Everytime I see a post of passing tips for trans men, theres a point about cutting your hair, like braids aren't of massive cultural significance for a lot of native men. And people will just act like the binary is innate. Natural. It's exhausting.)

All that is to say that most of the time I feel like I'm telling half-truths about my gender, and doing that can put you in a weird mental space. It makes you feel like you're fake, or some kind of imposter.

And all of that comes before even thinking about gender presentation.

If I dress in a way thats more binary or masculine I get treated like a binary man in a way that makes me uncomfortable. In particular women and visibly queer people seem less open around me, which makes me feel horribly sad. As a result I often intentionally dress in a more visibly queer way than I would otherwise.

On the other hand, on the rare occasion that I dress in a way that leans more feminine, the I get she/her pronouns (which makes me uncomfortable) or people notice my masculinized body and treat me with what I can only assume is misplaced transmisogyny.

None of these shifts in presentation correspond to a change in my gender. If anything my gender has always been the same and Im more accurately described as a transsexual, in that my sex needed to change, but that doesn't really have anything to do with affirming my gender.

All of this is fucking confusing. Depending on how I present on any given day I can have different weird kinds of dysphoria get triggered, simply because when you're gender non-conforming at all you get othered. Even when i'm in a more binary masculine outfit I feel out of place because I know my internal experience doesn't match what people see when they look at me.

All of that is really long winded, and I don't even know if I'm expressing it properly, but the point I'm trying to illustrate is that the mere experience of being measured up to a binary gender when you aren't binary can be confusing and dysphoria inducing.

Its also important to remember that cis people experience gender dysphoria too.

Cis women who are insecure about having a small chest, being too tall, having facial hair- those women are experiencing dysphoria. Its the same for cis men who are insecure about penis size, the width of their hips, not being muscular enough, ect.

When society has defined a narrow range of biological realities as "correct" the majority of people are not going to fit in, and when you don't fit in it causes you to feel like your body isn't the way its supposed to be, whether or not you're trans. Even worse we don't acknowledge the ways in which constructed gender is mostly only accessible to people can at least seem to have a white, cis, hetero, perisex, thin, abled body.

Because of that, dysphoria doesn't necessarily go away fully when we transition, and thats ok. Its probably going to come and go for you, it will change over time, and most likely it will fade, A LOT as you settle into yourself. The euphoria will come and go too. Thats all a normal part of having a human body.

As long as transition moves us closer to a place that feels comfortable then it's worth it. It doesn't have to fix us or make us perfect. We only have to prefer it to the alternative.

[starlessleep]

( ahn jae hyun, 135, cis man, he/him ) — Look who it is! If you take a look at our database, you’ll find that SIMON MUHN is a CULINARY SPECIALIST that works in SECTOR 2. According to the file, they’re a mutant with the power of MEDIUMSHIP. That must be why they’re TIDY and COLD. If you ask me, they remind me of long shadows, yellowed newspaper, & lingering cigarette smoke. They are affiliated with the MONTELL SYNDICATE

basic information

character name: Simon Muhn nickname (s): n/a face claim: Ahn Jae Hyun mutation status: Mutant Birthday: December 31 Sexuality: Pansexual moral alignment: Lawful Evil Occupation: Culinary Specialist work sector: Sector 2 affiliation:Montell Syndicate 3 positive traits: Contemplative, discreet, efficient 3 negative traits: Blunt, cruel, cynical

biography:

tbw

questionnaire:

how do they feel about living in sol city? have they always lived there or did they travel from another settlement?

Simon is older than Sol City. He's watched it build from the ground up. He's not scared of the outside of the city, but mostly can't be bothered to go anywhere else.

do they trust the council’s leadership? why or why not?

No. He can count on one hand the amount of people he trusts - and no one on the council makes that list. His entire life has been spent watching people fall. He knows it’s only a matter of time before the council joins those ranks.

if they chose their sector and profession, why did they make that choice? if they didn’t, why not? were they happy with their assignment or not?

Originally, Simon used to work as a professor in Sector 5. Against his own wishes, he was banned from the sector and reassigned to another position based on his skills. As a decent cook, he was assigned to food - which he doesn’t care for in the slightest.

what’s one object that they always keep on their person?

In his pockets or on his person, a book, a pack of cigarettes, and a singular silver chain necklace can always be found. He doesn’t have many other sentimental belongings.

what is your character’s ability (or abilities)?

Mediumship - Simon has the ability to see ghosts all the time. Its a power that can’t be turned off or on, they’re always there, lurking around every corner.

are they gen i or gen ii?

Gen I

what can your character do? what are their strengths?

Plain and simple, Simon can see ghosts all around him, almost like people. He’s unable to stop seeing them, and they can be easily confused with normal people.

With his physical mutation, Simon also has the ability to phase through walls and lose his corporeal form

what can’t they do? what are their weaknesses?

Ghosts are always around. Simon has no way to turn off the ability. He can try to summon ghosts, but it’s really just like making a phone call - he can’t force them to listen or appear.

His physical mutation also can’t exactly be controlled. He may become incorporeal at seemingly random and, as a result, finds it difficult or near impossible to interact with the surrounding physical world.

is there anything else you’d like to specify about them?

The x-virus mutated Simon beyond just being able to see ghosts. It essentially turned him into a ghost. As a result, he occasionally becomes incorporeal and no longer seems part of this world. His body produces a constant ectoplasm, and when he is corporeal, his internal temperature is drastically lower than considered normal.

[chlorinecake]

"The Sheep's Garden" title is so cute I was almost deceived. Almost. I read it and went back to stare at it mindlessly for a good few minutes after realizing the ominous undertone associated with it. It's literally, genuinely unsettling. You portrayed the title's essence effectively in your story too like... and even though it was twisted I admit feeling a somewhat shameful attraction to it 😅 *I'm crying*

I'm glad @/starrywonie and @/@hee-pster encouraged you to start a blog❤️ and replying to ur answer on the previous ask, half of my family are teachers and unfortunately I didn't inherit their smarts in math but I think I'm doing quite fine in the literature department. Ofc my literature and writing are still in the process of progressing because I genuinely feel there's so much out there that I can learn from. but the love for arts runs in the family and so much like u, it's been something I've known all my life. Seeing as we're a bunch of artists in different fields, writing, painting, any forms of creation! I think my love for writing truly blossomed at the end of 2018, and 2019 is when I took up the challenge of bringing my thoughts to life. I started on wattpad and somehow gained an audience which literally shook me because It was just me ranting on and on. I had a lost to say and people seemed ready to listen. I had a 1D phase🙈 not surprising lmao, and that brought me to wattpad, kpop made me stay, and kdramas officially opened that gateway for my writing journey to begin.

Despite occasional glitches and hiccups, the engagement and interactivity of this app are pretty good so I stay🫣 but lately, I'm mostly lurking. I think @/starrywonie is slowly getting antsy. I can see her eyes twitching from across the world. 🫣🤭

─ Hayzie

Ugh 😩 I absolutely LOVE the way you describe things… but yeah, this story in particular has ALWAYS been a ~special~ one for me to write, and as much as I try to prevent it by making Jungwon progressively more insane with each update (👹), the readers keep falling for his twisted ways :’] I guess that’s the charm manipulation *cries with you*

I’m really thankful for discovering those blogs when I did, too, hehe 🩵 That’s really interesting tho how half of your family is made up of educators and artists across different fields… most often than not, mathematics just doesn’t translate well with ppl more geared towards literature and the arts, so you’re not alone 🤧. And omg, the 1D era was such a time to be alive 🫠… I was never really a huge fan of them growing up bc I was honestly more of a JB girly (still am 🥲) but can I use the word bias for a non-kpop group 😭 ?!? Idk, but basically I’m just curious as to who your favorite member was back then…

“Kpop made me stay.” This is a crazy line bc it makes me realize just how much music affects our lives in so many different areas.

And yes ☝️ Tumblr is infamous for her MANY technological inconsistencies, but its always fun to hang around here either way… whether that be as a fellow writer… or lurker 😶‍🌫️ And OOP- Nanaa ~~~ your virgo is showing 🤭

[sugaredrhubarb]

15 questions, 15 mutuals

tagged by @woodswit 💌

whose blog ive been lurking on for a bit now and whose book is near the top of my tbr so i will hopefully get to talk about soon!

1. are you named after anyone?

first name not really (tis a common noun so kinda?), but middle name is feminized version of my mum's dad

2. when was the last time you cried?

the other day from a book i think?

out of the crying everyday phase now that we're a couple weeks out from breakup so thats a yay

3. do you have kids?

i'm pretty young so no. but, i have always wanted them (got called maternal from a very young age, we don't have to talk about what that did to my psyche)

4. what sports do you play/have played?

did very minimal karate, ballet, gymnastics as a kid and then played soccer into highschool until i was too concussed <3

5. do you use sarcasm?

actually something im trying to lean on less - i try to be a kind person and find i lean on sarcasm as a defense mechanism even when its not how i want to be interacting with people

6. what's the first thing you notice about people?

probably something cliché like eyes but also the energy they are giving off and if they have humour about them, if that makes sense? not sure how to explain it other than some people are just heavier or lighter beings

7. what’s your eye colour?

dark brown, i used to not really like them but got this insane text from a guy friend™️ once so there's that

8. scary movies or happy endings?

firmly happy endings, im an absolute p*ssy with a pension for nightmares so keep scary shit away from me

9. any talents?

I'm a good talker, always could improv a speech or articulate my point well which has come in pretty handy in academic writing

i also can solo the shit out of a canoe so

10. where were you born?

born and raised in the same canadian city

i like to leave breadcrumbs of mystery

11. what are your hobbies?

reading and talking about books generally, watch quite a few sports with varying degrees of intensity (love hockey but have had a harder time with it over the past few years with how bad the culture is), a lot of time looking at/talking about politics but thats also my degree

also not sure if it counts but i really do love being a part of fandom/internet spaces

12. do you have any pets?

a family dog back home with my parents!

13. how tall are you?

about 5'9 which i think is pretty tall and i am very self conscious about

14. favourite subject in school?

oo it shifted a lot over time. i loved math early on because i picked it up really easily but that was a really hard subject to maintain when i was in and out of school for health reasons. so it moved to the humanities/lib arts

always enjoyed english and I'm a Politics, Philosophy, and Economics(bleh) major so do with that information what you will

15. dream job?

aha thinking about the future is terrifying. i'd really like to teach in the polisci field just because i have so many thoughts about the importance of education there but every now and then i consider being a librarian

or the younger wife of a rich man who wants to give me his money for books and philanthropy would work too

absolutely zero pressure tags of those i love and/or would love to get to know better: @chai-isms @ceilidho @ohbo-ohno @heatherdewhoney @ghosts-cyphera @winterrose527 @thegoodbutter @bluemoonjeans

and anyone else who would like to but im shy and terrified of annoying people (ill bring it up to my therapist)