#it just snowballed so i could explain myself more and more

[bunnidid-reviews]

Mini DID book review: One Of Us Knows: a thriller

Author: Alyssa Cole

Publication date: 2024

Diagnosis of DID? Yes, the system has known for a while

Fiction of nonfiction: fiction

Is the person with DID portrayed as evil? Complicated but ultimately no; its one of the major plot points

Major trigger warnings:

death (fighting, blood, some gore but its not described much)

implied sexual assault (nothing described)

Self harm

Misogyny(major plot point)

Abelism

Racism (major plot point also)

Stalking

Kidnapping/mishandled foster care

Dormancy of parts (major plot point)

Parts being kidnapped/speculated to be killed off (major plot point)

Rituals taking place (not religious but has to do with everything on this list)

Covid being a thing(major plot point in the first part, lots of anxiety about covid)

Ratings to how I feel personally

Triggering(0 is nothing at all, 10 is could not handle reading this): 4-5 (not a gentle book but not gratuitous

System dynamics(0 is this is bizarrely off, 10 is holy shit this is a book about me): 7-8 (the conflict between parts is very well written, and so is the understanding of how deep the relationships go)

Switching(0 is doesnt work like this, 10 is this is a book about me): 4? (Nearly all of the switches are blackouts)

System communication(0 is never experienced this, 10 is this is a book about me): 8-9 (we talk to eachother like this a lot)

Inner world dynamics(0 is never experienced this, 10 is this is a book about me): 7 (theres a lot of the inner world, like half the chapters happen inside! However the physics of it were a little too realistic at times to what could happen with me, like i dont have to walk or run to get places personally)

Comorbidity with other disorders(mental or physical)(0 is there are none, 10 is i experience all of this): 5 (there is no physical ailments that come with having DID in this book, which isnt a necessity but many people who do have it also have disabilities so it feels bizzare when there are none. Theres anxiety, depression and faint mentions of disordered eating in this book)

Brief thoughts on this book:

The BadDay system(first book ive read where the system has a system name) has been well-established for many years by now, knowing about their DID, communicating with their others for some time.

The host turned persecutor has been dormant for 6 years now, missing out on covid, while the rest of the system had been active online and functioning in lockdown. Now Ken(the persecutor) is back, with the mysterious disapearence of the previous host and caretaker, Della. All eyes are on Ken wondering what the fuck happened and nobody knows how they landed a job as a caretaker of a mysterious castle on an island, that just happens to be the exact same castle from their inner world.

Mystery and thrilling things ensue as Ken goes through the motions of coming out of dormancy and no parts wanting them there, a blossoming romance with an outsider and a complicated romance on the inside too, all tied together neatly with the strange happenings on the island and the trust that owns it.

I don’t really know how to review for a thriller book, because I don’t tend to read thrillers. But the mysteries were mysterious to even me, who can see where plots are going with DID books typically. And the thrills were thrilling. I couldn’t put the book down, I kept wanting to sink in more and more

I was exceptionally pleased that the author didn’t play safe with the DID as some authors tend to when they’re writing something with modern understanding. There wasnt so much shameful secrecy around the disorder, and the questions and impacts were hard-hitting as she delved into things that I’d be worried about posting about myself. Like the dormancies impacting other parts, parts not wanting the host around. Romance and sexuality between parts. The unsavory and the honest, but also the depth of how much each of them mattered in the system and how much they cared for eachother. It was really satisfying to read! The inclusion of how social media effects people with DID nowadays was really nice to include too, and again, I haven’t yet seen any other media to employ the use of system names like how many do in social media now.

I also really really love that the story was just as much the inner world as it was the outer, as most books have the happenings between parts more hidden.. Having the two stories run side by side makes it feel like this characters life is their DID, as it often is for many of us. Idk I’m jazzed about this, this is what I wanted with DID in media. The DID actually mattering as more than a plot device

The only thing I can really fault it on is the constant blackout with switches. But to be fair, this is implied not to be their normal, and ethe events of this book are extremely high-stress situations, so I appreciate that the weight of that is stressed rather than it being another case of an author just not having personal experience enough to know. (She doesnt have the experience to know, but this was a neat way to bridge the gap)

Overall a great book. Not a fluffy one, and since the main plot revolves around the potential of the main character being the DID Killer, inside and out. So please tread carefully if the questioning of such things is hard for you. And also a thriller, so there are thriller things like violence and tension and things outside of a normal slice of life

Would I recommend someone with DID read this? YES! I do feel like this was written with a lot of care for people with DID

[csuitebitches]

How do you ACTUALLY network? Like the idea of a coffee chat always baffled me. Like a stranger would agree to get coffee with me for me to essentially interview and then what? I guess my bigger question is how do I provide value to them besides buying them coffee? And the whole concept just feels cringe and transactional

I’ll give you two recent examples, one of work and one of a social event.

A friend invited me to a party. I don’t know said friend very well, but we’re on good terms. I said yes cause why not.

I met a girl there who happened to do some very interesting things and had similar interests to me. How did I find that out? I asked her about herself, I found out where she was previously residing, I learned what she did for a living, and I began associating it to the things that I do. She’s from the same city that I want to move to, she now lives 20 minutes from me, and she’s interested in spirituality. My work happened to organise a similar event a week later, which I immediately invited her for. I asked her for her number so that I could send her the invite.

What she immediately liked about me and expressed, was that I don’t use social media, when we agreed to exchange contact info. I explained to her that I’d have to connect her on iMessage/ WhatsApp and not instagram. That allows us to stay in touch much better than on social media.

I left the party earlier than everyone but I looked for her and told her that we should catch up next weekend or whenever she was free. She agreed.

So this is what you learn from example 1:

1. Learn to associate.

When someone tells you that they work in XYZ company, in B city, start by connecting things in your head. Who else do you know works in the same field, could they know each other? What do you know about the work that they do, and if you don’t know much, can you find out more? Most people, including myself, love to talk about what we do at work and what our job entails. Has their work allowed them to travel a lot? If yes, where?

In order to associate, you need to read a lot and learn a lot. You have to understand what’s happening in the world, what the latest news is, because how the hell are you going to continue that conversation?

2. You have to snowball the conversation. The goal is to try and understand WHO this person is. If someone asks you, have you met CSB and you have, you should be able to say yes, this is what she’s interested in, this is what she works in - you should be able to pitch CSB to another person.

Not every single conversation has to be valuable. You also have to decide whether the person in front of you is worth your time.

3. Exchange numbers, not social media. Nothing is going to come out of exchanging instagram or LinkedIn.

4. When you’re leaving the event, look for the person you met and tell them that you’re leaving and that you guys should catch up sometime. If you haven’t exchanged contact info yet, that’s the best way to do it. “Oh let’s catch up again soon! Can I have your number? We can grab a coffee or drink whenever.”

—-

Example 2. I’d gone to a conference a few months ago. I met a young guy, around my age, who works in an accelerator. I’m very interested in the start up world, and he’s working in one of the best ones in the world, at a decent position. He immediately began telling me about recent funding that they did, what sort of start ups they’re looking for, etc. I asked him for more information, which he was super happy to talk to me about.

We’re on very good terms but we live in different cities. I often send him reports because I work in media, and he sends me PDFs and pitch decks. Whenever we’re in each other’s town, we message each other. Otherwise, I make it a point to reach out to him once a month, just casually, to find out what’s happening.

Takeaways from example 2:

5. Scratch each other’s backs. You can’t just get value from the other person, provide them with the same. It doesn’t have to be work related. Let’s say the person you’ve connected with is interested in indie music and you learn that an indie band is playing somewhere - send them a link to the event and tell them that you remembered that they like this genre, and you just wanted to share the info.

6. What’s important to learn is maintaining relationships. I reach out to all my mentors, all my latest connections once a month. That doesn’t mean that I’m necessarily going to meet them face to face, but I just check in and ask how things are going.

So.

Approach. Associate. Snowball. Exchange info. Maintain.

[ohimsummer]

SATORU IN HIS (blind) BAG

summary; opening up Sanrio Christmas themed blind bags with your bf <3 (and also annoying Satoru shenanigans)

— “Satoru!”, travels his name down the hall. “Satoru Gojo!”

At the sound of your call, confusion twists lightly in the pit of your boyfriend's stomach. You usually only bring out the full government name when Gojo’s in trouble, but you don’t sound upset…

Quite the opposite, in fact?

“Satoru!” You thrust a red and green box decorated with Sanrio characters at him the moment Gojo steps foot into the kitchen.

A grin spreads on his face, matching your own, and Gojo takes the large box from your hands. “Oh? Looks like your package came, love-“

He’s barely finished the sentence before you’re talking over him and snatching the box back. “Yes! Come, come open it with me, please!”

And how could Satoru say no to you, his baby, especially when you’re basically bursting with excitement? Stars amidst your eyes, a beaming smile that plumps up round cheeks. You’re too cute for your own good.

The chair at the kitchen island lightly scrapes against the floor, and Satoru leans his head atop yours after plopping down next to you. He tosses an arm over your shoulder, bright blue eyes intrigued as he eyes the festive-themed parcel alongside you and listens to your enthusiastic ramblings.

“They’re keychains.”, you begin explaining to him. “I’m not sure what I’ll do with the others, but I’m at least hoping I get these two for myself.” You point at the yellow dog and green frog. “This one for you.”

Satoru’s stare jumps to the new one you’re pointing at, and he can see why you’d want him to have that one. It’s basically him: the white, excitable dog with round blue eyes and wearing a cute blue Christmas hat. That one—Cinnamoroll—is basically a Sanrio personification of himself.

“He’s a cutie.” Satoru chuckles into your hair, and his thumb rubs hearts into the skin of your shoulder. “Like me, huh?”

“Yeah, you’re both funny lookin’. ”, you counter instantly and poke his nose, giggling as he scrunches it beneath your finger.

He wants to quip back with something annoying, but you’re back to ranting and raving about Keroppi and Purin and how they’re so god damn cute. Satoru studies the small bag between your hands, the plastic material loudly crinkling beneath your fingers as you aim to discover which figure is inside.

“I feel big, round ears,” You ponder more to yourself than Satoru. “,but that could be like...three different characters.”

For your sake, Satoru hopes it’s Pompompurin, the one you favor more than any other character. He grins, scoots his chair a little closer so he can snuggle you better. He finds his own nerves jittery with excitement as you tear open the first bag and pull out…

“My Melody…” You visibly deflate. It’s hard for Gojo not to laugh at your dejected frown, and afterwards your side eye because 'nothing’s funny, Satoru'.

The next few minutes are spent feeling around on each bag before pulling out characters neither of you were aiming for. Pochacco, Kuromi, Bad Batz Maru, and then finally-

“Keroppi!”, Satoru’s strong grip surely prevents you from falling out of your seat in excitement. You shove the cute green frog in his face, clad in a red Christmas hat and holding a snowball. “This is so cute, look at him, Satoru!”

While he studies the keychain, swaying it in his fingers, you continue mindless ramblings that this is finally a good sign. And you’re correct, because the next bag you open holds a beloved Pompompurin wrapped in Christmas lights and Satoru thinks you might just explode. You clasp the little yellow dog to your chest, bouncing and twisting in your seat and so ready to add him to your already obnoxiously full key ring. Satoru sets the Kerropi accessory down and holds his hand out for the Purin one, smirking as you gently place it in his hand. It’s such a cute, fat, little figurine. He can see why you’d like the dog character so much.

“And, last but not least..”, you murmur and tear open the last bag.

“Better be Cinnamoroll.” Satoru tosses the Purin chain up in the air only to let it fall back into his palm each time.

“And you would be correct!”

You hold the adorable white dog up in the air; sunlight streams through the blinds and causes for a dramatic lighting to show behind the figure, lighting it up like an angel departing from heaven. The keychain is handed off to Satoru, who eyes it curiously. It really does look just like him. A mini, Sanrio version of him in a bag.

[angelpuns]

The Igloo - TMNT Minific

( Herr's my fic from the @turtlestogetherzine !! I kept forgetting to post it ;-; )

It had taken him nearly all morning, but his masterpiece was finally complete!

Donnie stepped back to admire his creation - a real-life igloo! 

He turned, hearing a couple of shouts behind him. Just as he predicted, Leo had dragged Raph into a snowball fight - which meant Donnie was gonna get cold snow shoved into his jacket at some point. Not this time, though! 

He wasted no time crawling inside. 

He'd been planning this for months - he'd done a ton of research in igloos and how they worked.

If he remembered correctly, the super packed snow would help keep him warm. At least, a little warmer than it was outside. 

Donnie dragged the tools he'd brought in behind him, setting them in a corner of the igloo. He could at least make it a bit more homely in here, since he was gonna be stuck til their snowball fight finished.

He spent the next few minutes working on the inside - drawing out diagrams in the snow walls and imagining it was actually an elaborate laboratory. He'd been wanting to start one for a while, but Papa was not being reasonable. He could be safe with a propane torch! 

Donnie only stopped when someone poked their head in the igloo - his plastic shovel held up in defense. 

"Whatcha doin' in here, Dee?" It was just April, but Donnie found her coy smile a little too untrustworthy.  

"I decided to make a fortress. I've been researching igloos for months now and decided this was the best way to prevent getting roped into yet another snowball fight," He explained, still holding up the shovel, "it's my safe-haven."  

"Mind if I join ya? It's a bloodbath out there." She sounded friendly enough, but Donnie could see from here that she had her hand behind her back - likely a planned ambush. 

"Sorry, April, but I cannot let anyone in without a security check."

April scoffed, poking her head even further into the entrance, "Let me in or I'm telling Splints about your little scrap yard escapade last month.” 

Donnie grimaced at that, quickly compiling a pros and cons list of why he should agree. 

No matter which way he put it, letting April in was his best choice. 

Donnie sighed, setting the shovel aside and gesturing inside. 

"Fine. But don't you dare bring any snowballs in here, " He muttered, pulling his arms in close and zipping his jacket further up his neck, "I worked hard to keep the heat in!" 

April shrugged, a snowball plopping onto the ground next to her. As always, he was right. 

April crawled into the igloo, eyes widening when she saw how big it was inside. It could fit all of them if he really wanted (he most certainly did not).  

"Wow, Donnie! This is amazing. You built this by yourself?" April sat cross-legged across from him, admiring the dome, "What's with the drawings?"

Donnie flushed a little, shrugging, "I was pretending it was a lab…but yes, I did build it myself. Did you know that the tighter the snow is packed the more heat it keeps in? And, the reason it doesn't melt is cause-" 

"WOAH! Donnie, did you build a house!?" 

Donnie frowned when he was interrupted, turning to aim a glare at Mikey. His younger brother had poked his head in the entrance, but was craning to see farther inside. 

"Actually, Michael, it's called an igloo-"

"COOL! Can I please please pleeeeaaaase come in?" Mikey poked his head a little further in, "I'll be the goodest hou-igloo  guest ever!"

"First of all, goodest is not a word. Second, no you may not. I only have so much room in here," Donnie scoffed. He was stretching the truth a bit, but what did Mikey know? He was only six!

"But…but I said I'd be the goodest- the bestest house guest ever…" Mikey murmured, his expression quickly falling into the sad puppy dog eyes. 

Donnie hesitated, before quickly shaking his head, "Sorry, I can't bend the rules for you, Mikey."

April gave him a look, but that wasn't what made him change his mind. Sniffles came from the entrance of the igloo, Donnie regrettably glancing over. Mikey was fully sobbing, huge crocodile tears slipping down his cheeks. 

"Oh- don't… Sigh. Don't cry, please don't cry, Angelo…" Donnie attempted to soothe him, crawling over to the entrance and beckoning his youngest brother a bit closer, "I…guess we have room for one more. Just please don't cry." 

Somehow Mikey's tears always ended up getting to him. He felt so…icky making him cry. 

Mikey brightened up at that, crawling inside and practically tackling Donnie into a hug. 

"There…there. I let you in so now you can't cry," He murmured, giving Mikey a couple of pats on his beanie-covered head. 

Mikey rubbed his face a couple times on Donnie's coat, no doubt leaving a trail of slime and who knows what else. Eugh. He really wished he'd thought to bring tissues. 

"Thank you, Dee. You're the be-bestest." Mikey murmured, happily squeezing Donnie once more before thankfully moving away. He wiped his face and sat cross-legged next to April, watching Donnie expectedly. 

"Soooooo, what now?"

"Well I didn't exactly plan for visitors. I suppose I could finish explaining the thermal capabilities of the igloo itself, but-" 

"You guys havin' a party in here or somethin'?"

Donnie groaned, scrubbing a hand down his face and dead panning towards the entrance. 

"No, Raph. I've simply been a weak turtle," Donnie explained, Raph just giving him a slightly confused look, "Sigh…I suppose you're going to try and convince me to let you in?" 

Raph blinked at him a couple times, before grinning, "I got just the thing!"

Donnie opened his mouth to argue that it wasn't an invitation, but Raph quickly left. Donnie didn't know what he'd try to convince him with, but he wasn't going to let it work. Even if it was lunch (he was getting awfully hungry…) 

Raph was back moments later, poking his head in with a grin. Donnie was relieved he'd made the specs so large. Even if he hadn't anticipated guests, he adhered to the phrase 'go big or go home'. 

"How's this for an invite?" Raph shoved several blankets through the entrance, watching Donnie with a grin. 

Donnie thought for a moment, before audibly sighing. The igloo could only keep them so warm anyway. One more body and several blankets wouldn't hurt.  

"Alright. Make yourself comfortable, but be mindful of the walls," He warned, watching as Raph slowly crawled into the igloo. April and Mikey had already grabbed blankets, the both of them scooting over to make room for Raph.

Raph pulled a blanket over himself as well, though it was severely lacking in size. 

Donnie grabbed a blanket for himself as well, relishing in the warmth for a moment before sighing. 

"Everyone comfortable?"

Nods around the room. 

"Alright, finally. As I was explaining earlier, the igloo obviously doesn't have a heating system, but it keeps the person inside warm through a very specific building process-" 

"GUYS!? WHERE'D EVERYBODY GO!?" 

Donnie groaned, pulling the blanket up and over his head. Of course Leo still found a way to interrupt him. He just wanted to explain how the igloo worked! Was that too much to ask!?

Leo's shouting grew louder and louder until it was just outside of the entrance. Donnie grabbed his plastic shovel, holding it up to defend himself. 

A moment later Leo poked his head into the igloo. 

He was crawling inside before Donnie could stop him. 

"Oh, hey! You built a igloo-"

"Stay back, Leo. You're not allowed in here." Donnie huffed, moving to block Leo from coming in, "It's supposed to be a sanctuary."

"Sanctuwhat..?" Leo poked his head in a little further to see the rest of the group. He frowned, turning back to Donnie, "What, everyone else is allowed but me? I'm your twin!" 

"So? You're not allowed in cause you're gonna start another snowball fight." Donnie scoffed. He felt a little twinge of guilt, but he knew Leo. And he knew he'd figure out a way to rope Donnie into a fight. 

"You let Raph in!" 

"He came bearing gifts," Donnie retorted, holding up the corner of his blankets, "Anyway, I have a sign here. No Leos."

He pointed to the wall, where he had in fact scrawled a sign that said 'no Leos'. 

"I can't even read that!" Leo scoffed, "Just let me in, Dee, you're not playing fair!" 

"I said no, Leo. Now if you'll excuse me, I have some explaining to-"

"What if I promise no snowballs?" 

Donnie shook his head, fixing Leo with a stare. One that he hoped was intimidating. 

Leo stared back, expression just as hard. But then his eyes drooped a little and he hurriedly turned away. His boots crunched the snow around the igloo for a moment before fading.

"Wow. I didn't think he'd actually listen..." Donnie chuckled, tossing the shovel back in his bucket, "Now as I was saying…" 

"Donnie, don't you think we can let him in? Raph feels a little bad…" 

Donnie sighed, "No, Raph. I wrote a sign and everything. I spent a long time on this and I don't want it to be destroyed by hurricane Leo." 

They were silent for a moment, Donnie clearing his throat to start again. Only to be interrupted by Mikey. 

"But…Leo can play nice if you ask real polite! " He added, "And- and he promised no snowballs!" 

Donnie groaned, "I know, but that was probably just a lie to get in. I do not plan on having snow shoved down my jacket today, alright?"

He glanced at April, "Have anything to say or can I do my speech?"

April just shrugged, "Go ahead, Donnie. But I'm leavin' once you're done" 

Fine. He didn't invite her in anyway. 

"So! The way the igloo keeps in heat-" 

"...Donnie?" 

"What is it now!?" Donnie turned towards the voice, only to see Leo poking his head in again, "Leo, I said no. What do you want?" 

"I just thought you guys might be hungry…" He murmured, holding up a lunchbox and a thermos, "Dad made hot chocolate. and sandwiches."

"Ooh hot chocolate! " Mikey crawled out from under his blanket, fumbling his way towards the entrance. April followed. Raph glanced between Donnie and the entrance, before making his way over as well. 

Donnie watched them go with a frown. Fine! He hadn't wanted guests anyway. 

He pulled the blanket tighter around himself, staring at the No Leo sign. So what? He wasn't hungry. His stomach growled in response. Okay, he was a little hungry. 

He made another pros and cons list in his heads, potential mishaps flooding his brain. Donnie groaned. There were - unfortunately- more pros than cons. 

And he was hungry. 

And lonely.

He had to tell someone about how igloos worked. 

So, he set his blanket aside and crawled out of the igloo. He squinted against the sudden sunlight, his family a few feet away.  

His brothers and April were all sitting in the snow, sipping from the thermos and eating their sandwiches. 

Donnie walked over, hands shoved deep in his pockets. He hated being wrong. And he hated doing apologies. But he…wasn't playing nice. And that was probably why he felt so icky. 

"...Do you all wanna eat in my igloo?" He murmured, staring at his feet, "It's warmer in there."

"Donnie-" 

Leo cut April off, “I never thought you'd ask, Dee! You gonna tell us how that thing works or not?" 

Donnie stiffened a bit at that, nodding. He didn't move, the rest of them gathering up their lunch and heading for the igloo. 

Leo stopped and held out a sandwich, "Here. I know you're real bad at 'pologies. But that's okay." 

He wrapped an arm around Donnie's shoulder and gave him a warm squeeze, "I promise I won't start another snowball fight….yet.”

Donnie chuckled a bit at that. 

"Just let me win, okay?" 

[fleet-of-fiction]

My Truth

Allow me to introduce myself. Hi...

My name is Lucie. You might remember me from my old blog, lightmylove-gvf. It started out as a really fun, wholesome space. Full of love and laughter. I shared pictures and gif sets and works of fiction. Made so many wonderful connections with many different people. It really was a wonderful place to be. Until it wasn't. And although I've tried my best to step away from certain controversies, it seems that people still have an issue with me and still have my name in their mouth. So I'd like to take this opportunity to set the record straight. Maybe move past some untruths and you can all make informed decisions on whether you'd like to continue following me here on my current blog. Which is also a place of peace and love, I might add. And always has been.

Anyway, read on if you'd like. And if not, that's ok too.

I think it's fair to say that I've always been one of the more "controversial" writers around here. I have never shied away from difficult storytelling, and I never will. But what started out as a completely separate issue quickly snowballed into what could only be described as a personal vendetta.

I'm happy to discuss anything within my writing that might be of issue to a reader. A particular blog took offence to a scene I had written in a chapter of my fic, Backstage. I happened to disagree with this blog, and I tried my best to let them know whilst I understood their stance I did not agree with their point of view. I took this opinion to a discord server I was part of along with several other blogs here to see if they could shed more light on the issue.

The scene in question involved a fictionalised version of Josh and the reader in bed. They had gone to bed together with the full narrative of the reader known. How she was in love with him and wanted nothing more than to make love with him. They had been growing close. And Josh began to touch reader as they slept side by side. We get an insight into the readers thoughts during this moment, and they are very much with consent and enjoying the experience. It's meant to be a nod to what is to come. That their bodies are in tune with each other, even if their words are yet to speak of it. I think a lot of experiences in life play out like that. Where we don't always know what to say, but find ourselves in situations where our bodies can do the talking. Anyway, I digress...

There was a lot of opinions flying around in the server. Some were in favour of my opinion, others opposed it and were in favour of the anon who had sent me alot of hateful messages regarding their view that this scene was nothing more than sexual harassment. I explained in the server that I myself had been the victim of sexual assault/harassment. That I knew what it felt like to get into bed with someone I thought that I could trust only to have them break that trust in the most heinous way. I tried to explain that I didn't think this particular scene was that.

One sentence that I said was screenshotted and shared around with absolutely zero context to it and nothing of the rest of the conversation added to the screenshot. Just one sentence that I'd said which pertained to saying that I agreed that people should be able to get in bed with others and have full rights to their own bodies. I was AGREEING with that. It's there in black and white. But the narrative was skewed by people who didn't want to understand me. I tried to explain about how my personal experiences often lied within power imbalances when it came to things like S/H. But in the end, they gave me no chance to explain myself properly. They didn't want to. They'd seen and heard enough and made up their mind.

But it didn't stop there. People who I thought were my friends blocked me. Told me I was disgusting. Told me I was playing the victim. Because I didn't issue a grovelling apology. But how could I? I wasn't sorry. I hadn't done anything wrong. I'd poured my heart out to them about my trauma and abuse and how in my own experience I didn't view it as the same as what I'd written. I'd put trigger warnings. I'd made sure people had the right to information before proceeding!

I had blogs who had never interacted with me block me. Call me disgusting. Tell me fuck myself. I had anons telling me to kill myself. Anons telling me that I was a rapist and...for some reason...a peadophile sympathiser? I didn't deserve that. Nobody deserves that. I literally wrote two consenting adults touching each other in a bed they'd both gotten into...consentingly.... with very obvious (although unspoken at that point) feelings for each other. But now, that wasn't the issue. The issue was my own personal feelings on sexual harassment.

I'm the first to admit that I am perhaps not an easily digestable person to some. But I know that I am kind. I know that I have spent hours proof reading and editing fics for other writers on here because they asked for my help. I've supported people though personal issues, and I've championed the work of other writers because I truly believed that this space was a wonderful space for creativity. I still do, to some degree. I am not perfect, and I know that sometimes I can be a little head strong when it comes to protecting people's rights to free speech. I understand that I'm not palatable as a person to people who don't agree that the freedom to write should come with the freedom to write anything.

To those of you who never ever spoke to me and are still sharing things about me with the hash tag #fuck you lucie.... to you I say why have you jumped on that bandwagon? You do not know me. You know only what you've heard from people who were intent on pushing a narrative that was their own. Not mine. You don't know that these people were once my friends. And they shared my work and enjoyed it as I enjoyed theirs. They told me things about themselves and I was happy to know them. These people who then decided I was a terrible human being. Based on one thing I said that was taken completely out of context. It's almost as if they have shared it so many times now with their own backstory that it's a canon truth. I'm the worst human to ever walk the earth. Forget about all the good things I did for you. I'm scum.

If you're still reading this, you're probably thinking boo hoo what a victim complex. Maybe you're right. Maybe I do have a victim complex. Like everyone else here I have mental health problems and I'm on the spectrum. I have trauma. As part of my adhd I have rejection sensitivity which means when I'm cornered I tend to fight back with justifications as to why I behaved the way I did. I guess that's what I'm doing now. Trying to explain myself. Again. Although what good it'll do, I dont know. And I think right now, it no longer matters.

And yet I still see that I'm being talked about. I'm still getting accused of sending anons to other blogs when I was literally just existing here in my peaceful little corner, everyone who had ever taken issue with me blocked or unfollowed. I didn't know what was going on over there, I was trying to just enjoy reading and writing. My anxiety could never cope with sending a hateful anon, I know there's ways of finding out where they come from and revealing the blogs who send them and it's like that story we're all told about peeing in the pool and turning the water a different colour. I don't fuck with that shit.

If, for any particular reason, I've ever hurt anyone here to them I do issue a heartfelt apology because it has never been and never will be my intention. I said some awful things in the heat of the moment when I was receiving alot of hate and death threats regarding the AI edit a friend of mine made with audio from one of my fics. I was under so much pressure. I wanted it all to just stop. I just wanted everyone to be able to enjoy whatever made them happy. I am sorry for the things I said during that time. Im a human being. I am flawed. However..

I do not believe that people lose their rights to their body the minute they climb into bed with someone. And that's precisely what I say in the infamous screenshot. I just hope for anyone who has seen it that they now understand that it was said with love and understanding and support. I would never disregard anyones trauma or triggers. Never. And that is why I believe in giving people all the information they require before consuming media and art.

With all this said, I sincerely hope that it's clear that all I want to do is write. It's all ive ever done and all I will ever really be any good at doing. I'm proud of the fics I've put out here on my old blog and this one too. I don't care about how many notes they get, just that one or two people read it and enjoy it. And I hope you all know that I'm a nice person, too. So are a lot of blogs who have been villainised recently. This witch hunt has got to stop. We have got to start listening to each other with peace and understanding and not jump to conclusions. Not make people out to be something they simply aren't.

I want to curate a loving space here. A safe and nurturing space for anyone to feel free within. I want people to know they can jump in my asks and know that I will love them. I want everyone, of every race and every gender and ever creed of this world to know they are welcome and accepted here. Like a wise man that we all know and love once said. I'm not the person they say I am. I never was. And I think some of them know that. It is my greatest hope that any of you who wish to stick around get to know me for yourselves.

It is my greatest wish that those blogs who are still spouting hate about me really grow and heal. Or even better, pop on over and get to know me? I think it's important to understand why you might hate someone and not just from unreliable sources. If you think that I am some sort of s/a supporter who revels in writing that sort of thing then I'd be glad to dispel that myth.

I'm not going to speak on this again because I feel that I've moved on. This blog is my creative outlet and always will be. And as I've stated above its a safe and loving space for all. I'm reclaiming the fun. And hopefully some of you will stick around for it. And if not, I bid you a farewell. With nothing but love in my heart.

[captmickey]

Graham has found a dusty door in one of Daventry Castle’s basements (disused dungeon?). It is locked, and they have no key. The guards are defensive and take charge. Do they get in and what’s behind it, or are they forced to give up and it remains a mystery?

I'm so so so sorry it took forever and a half, I was just debating how the story should go and then got busy and-- well, now I had time. And a story.

So here ya go! ---

“Leave it to you to find something that was not meant to be found.” Number One grumbled, standing with his arms crossed as Graham kneeled in front of the dusty door attempting (and failing) to pick at the lock.

“If it wasn’t meant to be found, it should have been turned into a wall.” Graham pointed out.

“It was hidden behind one. AND a tapestry.” 

“Then whoever bricked up the wall did a poor job.”

“Wasn’t our fault the budget was abysmal during the Missing Treasure Fiasco.” Number One muttered just below enough so none of the other guards could hear, but Graham heard clearly.

“Say, why was it bricked up in the first place?” Number Two asked, leaning on the adjacent wall as Graham continued to pick at it. “I don’t recall that being a thing.”

“It was something spoken exclusively between the late King Edward, Gideon, and myself.”

“Gideon?” Graham looked up.

“Our original captain before Ken took over.” Number Two explained.

“Number Two!” Number One snapped at him. “On duty–”

“Names aren’t to be used, yeah yeah, I know.”

“I can see your blasted eye roll from here.”

“Can you see this too?” A pause. “On second thought, nevermind, the helmet tastes terrible.”

“Disgusting.” Number One stated.

Graham sighed and lowered the lockpick tool. It looked so much easier when Ginger or Anisette did it, maybe it was the movement of his wrist?

“Giving up?” Number Two asked.

“Never.” Graham stood up, pocketing away the kit and placing his hands on his hips. “Just… are you sure there’s no key?”

“Positive!” Kyle shouted from down the hall as he came running down the hallway with Larry stacked on top. “We just examined every nook and cranny and found nothing.”

“Did Number Three find anything?” Number Two asked.

“Also nothing, but she said she wanted to give it one more go with Number Sixty Four in regards to the whereabouts of all the keys.” Kyle said. “So until then, we got nothing.”

“Sorry, Majesty.” Larry apologized.

“No need to apologize. I appreciate it, thank you.” Graham said before turning his attention to Number One. “What was this place before, anyways? I don’t recall seeing it on the castle plan when I first came to rule.”

All their attention went to Number One who was standing back with his arms crossed, looking to be anywhere but here before sighing and leaning his head back to exhale through his nose. 

“It used to be part of the dungeons.” He answered. “Before King Edward’s time, this castle had excess dungeons for enemies… though stars help me, I wouldn’t constitute goblins or faeries as enemies so long as you don’t step on their turf. Maybe the average thief or assassin, but they’re so far and few in between one could arguably say they’re not even worth a thought.” 

“Goblins aren’t to be taken lightly…” Graham rubbed his arm from the last encounter he had with one of them tossing their brethren at him like a common snowball.

“But when King Edward realized that it wasn’t making Daventry much allies, he had it ordered that these dungeons be transformed into storage, as you can plainly see by the one-too-many-boxes that I’m dying to be rid of but life insists some other trivial matter takes top priority.” Number One finished. “Such as that blasted door.”

“So this door is another dungeon?” Graham pressed.

Number One paused and ‘hmm’ just quietly enough in contemplation. 

“Wait, is it?” Kyle spoke up, shocked.

“Is this for the more intense criminals? Traitors of Daventry?” Larry added.

“Clearly it’s bad enough if it was sealed behind a wall and a tapestry… say, lad, how’d you come across this place, anyways?” Number Two asked.

“I was just strolling about, trying to get a hang of the castle’s layout when I saw the door that led in here… and then I heard a whistling sound and I followed it to here.” Graham explained. 

“And you’ve been trying to open it since?” Larry asked.

He pulled out the lockpick kit and showed them. “With nothing but failure to show for it.”

“Shame, was really looking forward to know what was behind that door.” Kyle sighed.

“I didn’t think I found something so cryptic. W-what is behind that door, Number One?” Graham looked at the captain who had remained frighteningly quiet, still humming under his helmet.

“Ken?” Number Two pressed. He looked away when Number One gave him a sharp stare. “Sorry, Number One.”

“Actually… I’m not quite sure.” He confessed. “I only came to the conversation as they were discussing sealing it up, but I never knew what it was.”

“So, aren’t you just a little bit curious?” Number Two asked, going over and draping an arm around him. “You are the head of the Royal Guard and the lad here is our king and is oh so curious what’s behind that door.”

“You just want to know what’s there.” Number One bluntly stated.

“Don’t you?” Graham asked, getting a bark of a laugh from the second in command. 

“Sorry, sir, but we won’t be able to go back to our usual work until we figure out what’s behind the door.” Kyle said.

“And that’s two less guards that can patrol considering we’re inseparable.” Larry added.

“We don’t have the key and none of us are exactly proficient with breaking and entering.” Number One said. “And if we slam the door down, who knows what sort of damage it could do.”

“We could always take it off the hinges.” Number Three’s voice rang through as she walked over to them. “Or is it too rusted?”

“Going to assume rusted…” Graham admitted, looking now at the hingest. “But maybe a good strike would make it crumble. I could– huh?”

He felt Larry and Kyle pulling him to the side and saw Number One give a nod. 

“You won’t be touching that door anymore, Your Majesty.” Number One stated. 

“But I want to see what’s behind the door!” Graham pouted. 

“Who said we won’t?” Number One looked at him. “No offense, Pockets, but with your luck, the door could potentially fall on you much like last week’s avalanche.” 

He recalled the time Number One caught him trapped under a pile of addendums. It was one of those memories where his face burned so hot as Number One fell to his knees and was wheezing with tears staining his face. His cheeks turned red slightly. 

“Exactly.” He drew out his sword. “Number Two, Number Three, please stand ready to catch the door.”

“Sir!” The two saluted and walked into position.

Number One raised the hilt of the sword and gave a solid whack to the rusted hinges, startling himself as it collapsed just as Number Three said it would. 

“One down!” Number Three cheered.

“Two to go!” Number Two cheered as well.

“Go Number One!” Graham pumped his fists.

“It’s just a rusted door hinge.” Number One muttered. “Hardly anything to cheer about.”

He whacked at the other two hinges and just like the first one, they collapsed as though it were nothing. The door teetered back and forth but couldn’t fall in either direction as both Number Two and Number Three caught it and carefully moved it to the side, revealing the inside of the room to the six of them. 

Graham took a step before getting, once more, harshly yanked back by Kyle and Larry as Number One stepped in first.

“Hey, wait a second, I was the one who found it, why don’t I get a first look?!” Graham called out.

“You’re the King.” All the Royal Guards reminded him in a unison that was done one too many times.

“Right. That.” Graham’s ears burned.

Number One shook his head and stepped inside, his sword still drawn just in case. As he took a look, he sheathed his weapon and placed his hands on his hips, his brow furrowed underneath his helmet. “It’s safe for Pockets.”

Quickly in a blur of red and blue, Graham rushed in and looked around trying to take in the sight. There was a window with a broken glass, allowing undoubtedly the wind to whistle for his attention. Surrounded were barrels and barrels of rolled up parchments, tapestries that had to deal with decades of the elements but still told its story, treasure chests stacked on top of one another like a makeshift mountain.

It looked, frankly, like another one of those storages just outside.

Graham’s shoulders sagged, disappointment read loud and clear as he let out a sigh.

“Well.” Larry spoke up, having unstacked off of Kyle so that the two could look at the room. “This is frankly disappointing.”

“I’m a bit sad, if I’m being quite honest.” Kyle frowned.

“I thought it would be gold.” Number Two sighed. 

“Why would they seal up gold?” Number Three stared at him. “That makes no sense.”

“Unless it was cursed.” He countered. “Everyone seals up cursed gold.”

“But why—”

“Like pirates!” Kyle joked.

She paused and quietly agreed. 

Graham looked around as the guards got into a conversation about a PIrate King of Daventry and pulled one of the scrolls from the barrel, making sure to handle it with absolute care in case it would disintegrate in his hands. He tilted his head and rolled it back up, pulling another one and unfurled that as well as he pulled it closer to read.

Number One noticed his sudden change in expression and walked over, his hand on the hilt of the blade as he tapped Graham’s shoulder.

“Something about it caught your eye?” Number One asked.

To his surprise, Graham turned to look at him with stars in his eyes and a smile that shined brighter than any gold. 

“These are maps to all the treasures in Daventry.” Graham said. 

“We’re not short on gold, sire–”

“No. Not treasure as in gold.” Graham handed the parchment to Number One. “Treasures as in all the hidden legends of Daventry. Not just the floating island.”

“They could belong to faes or goblins.” Number One warned, but the excitement of a new discovery of his homeland was bubbling. 

“We’re not gonna conquer, but we can befriend. Make allies.” Graham explained. “You said King Edward tried to make peace once with the faeries, elves, and such?”

“With poor success, yes.”

Graham tapped at it. “We can do it. We can go and find them, ask for an audience and build a strong relationship. Plus… wouldn’t it be grand to see what more stories Daventry has to offer?”

Number One stared at the parchment and the various barrels, realizing that there was much to Daventry that was left to be properly explored. He looked at Graham with that excited and welcoming smile of his… he rolled it up and sighed.

“If there is anyone that could make an audience with them… it’d be you, Pockets.”

“Well then, lets get to work!”

[yourgamemasterthewhiterabbit]

So the inspector came, same guy as came to my door yesterday, was already wearing a mask and everything.

Can't complain about any mess, but he insists my storage stack is a "fire hazard" because there isn't 4 full feet of space around it, and gods forbid there be a fire or a fire inspection and he'd ''hate to see it happen to [me]'' but they have inspections yearly -and all- and if they saw it they'd 'put in an order to make me stay somewhere else while someone came in and threw out all my stuff for me' ...

... Which you know, would get me fucking DEAD of the FUCKING PLAGUE, which you know they also wouldn't pay for [wherever I have to stay like a hotel], and would mean losing 50% of what I own for the crime of what was it again?

Oh yes. Being assaulted and having my home sold out from under me, forcing me to move a house-worth of stuff into a 10*17 apartment before getting deathly ill two separate times in a year and a half.

I cant' stay at a hotel. It would be a death sentence. I have nowhere else to go. And I'm also pretty sure he's planning on it, or knows it's going to happen soon.

So yeah, this winter I was going through the rest of it, but now I have to play a game of rushing to get it done before he or anyone else can "inconveniently" call a fire inspection down on my head.

... Like he seemed like a nice guy, but I don't fucking trust this situation.

This feels like I am being set up on purpose.

He gave me his work email to keep him 'updated on my progress', but I have no idea how much that's going to be used against me somehow by this management corporation.

I did ask him to get an on-demand water heater for the building and explained that the guy above me has been harassing me over water usage though. He says he doesn't know what the boiler situation for the building even is yet.

Like I would already be on my own ass to downsize faster but I'm a little jaundiced right now from all the organ fuckery as it is and I just didn't want to push it when I could have approached it at a healthier safer pace instead.

But now it's looking like I have no choice.

The problem is my whole body is still swelling to all shit in every single joint and the more I use them the worse I get. Even my jaw is starting to click and grind painfully any time I try to chew food.

Like my joints are turning visibly purple on the inside from the torn up tissue from having to use them yesterday despite the swelling and that tissue damage is going to tax the hell out of my liver and kidneys. Which have already let me turn slightly yellow as of yesterday at least.

And all these health problems and being in this situation can all be traced directly back to fine and gb keeping me sick with plague exposure, gb assaulting me and my last landlord selling the house out from under us once I told him. Each shit situation I am in keeps catapulting me into the next faster than anyone could be expected to catch up or cope and I literally have 0 [zero] recourse or help whatsoever.

And the more it snowballs off of what other people did, the more it starts to look like it's just me and like there isn't really an excuse, because oh it been a year so why haven't you fixed everything and gotten better? Like because this shit all takes time and physical energy and I'm disabled, but no one making these decisions has to care or listen. And because I keep getting noise complaints made against me every time I move stuff around.

Isn't there such thing as legal grace periods? Like wouldn't the fire inspector HAVE to give me fucking time to fix the problem?

And every time I move things around to clean or downsize the stupid neighbour makes a fucking noise complaint against me, and the landlord tells me to STOP the TELL ME TO STOP, every time. Every time I try to use hot water, or now any water at all, to wash myself, my clothes and my apartment, the neighbour throws a bitchfit and runs the water on me.

So I am going to go play raft for the rest of today because fuck it, but if you don't hear from me for a while it's because I'm neck deep in solving problems faster than people can try to ruin my life or literally get me killed over them.

Or I'm busy writing emails and playing diplomat or something.

I guess instead of taking a week to recover I am trowing myself into the downsizing again as of morning. Hopefully I really was right on the edge of recovery and I'll be able to handle this and still move enough to feed myself.

Cool.

... Also I know he can't have known -and this isn't a sincere complaint- but he misgendered both me and my cat :(

Sir we are boys >:( Ignore that we're pretty T~T

One thing I can say for him is that at least he knocked and made sure I actually got the notice. :/

[da-awesom-one]

This Is The Thanks I Get?! (Jack Frost Version) - Chris Pine

*DISCLAIMER: These lyrics are fan-made lyrics of a song created and owned by Disney for a character that is owned by Dreamworks. No money is being made off of this. This was solely written for recreational purposes.*

sing = siiing

LYRICS UPDATED: 8/3/2024

-

Jack shook his head in disbelief, and then shook it towards the moon. "That's it. I've had it! I've had it with your silence, and I've had it with everybody and their mother giving me the cold shoulder!" He ran a hand through his hair, scoffing again. "I mean, what's it gonna take?!"

Frost began to count off from his free left hand. "I've started snowball fights, not that they ever let me in on them considering I'm invisible! I've even frosted some windows over to write them messages, and lemme tell ya, those were not the reactions I was hopin' for!"

"I mean, what do I gotta do, huh?!" he groaned, throwing his arms up into the air. "Do I actually have to spell it out for them, o-or sing it out loud to get them to hear me?!"

He was grimacing when he said this. But as the words registered in his head, his expression became pensive as he considered his remark.

In truth... he hadn't tried that.

Jack rubbed his chin in thought as he pondered this new development, his eyes darting left and right like clockwork. Was he really that desperate? Would he really stoop so low? Debase himself in such a way?

...It turned out that yes. Jack was that desperate.

"...Oh, what the heck."

(VERSE 1)

I can’t help it… if no one can look my way.

It’s a curse, I tell ya! 

Can’t stop it no matter what I do, or say!

Peep the name, son! It’s Jack Frost!

I’m THE rebel without a cause!

I’m free-spirited! My own kind of boss!

SO HOW COME EVERYONE WANTS ME TO GET LOST?!

“Ahem! Lemme explain…”

I’d give the cloak off my own bare back,

If you really needed that.

I’ll be the first one to volunteer myself!

If your igloo were to crumble, or if you were in trouble.

(PRE-CHORUS)

I’d cancel all your school days,

Be that friend that suggests fun stuff,

Take blame for all the messes!

And I’ll be there for you when things get rough!

I’d give, and give, and give, and give!

You’d think it’d be more than enough…

And all I really want is to get in on the fun.

(CHORUS)

But this is the thanks I get! (Da-da, da-da, da-da, da-da, da-da, da)

This is the thanks I get! (Da-da, da-da, da-da, da-da, da-da, da)

For wanting to be seen by them! (Da-da, da-da, da-da, da-da, da-da, da)

Looks like I’ll get ignored again. (Da-da, da-da, da-da, da-da, da-da, da)

Since this is the thanks I get!

(INTERLUDE 1)

(Da, da, da, da)

(Da-da-da-da-da, da, da, da)

(Da-da-da-da-da, da, da, da)

(Da-da-da-da-da. Da-da, da)

(VERSE 2)

It’s so stupid!

But that’s the least I could say.

There are more words that are well-suited.

Like "cruel," and "wrong," and "unfair," and "lame!”

The gifts you gave me? I’m showing them off!

And you still won’t talk? You’re blowing me off?!

Um, do you think I won’t come up there?

‘Cause I won’t hesitate to drag your butt down here!

(PRE-CHORUS)

UGH!

I made a hundred snow days last year!

C’mon! That’s a high percent!

And still you won’t let me be seen?

The disrespect I just underwent!

You get my hopes up, and tear them down.

But, really, what do I expect?

It’s been like this every year ever since we met…

(CHORUS)

So this is the thanks I get! (Da-da, da-da, da-da, da-da, da-da, da)

This is the thanks I get! (Da-da, da-da, da-da, da-da, da-da, da)

For expecting you to really listen! (Da-da, da-da, da-da, da-da, da-da, da)

Did I just get run over by Sven?! (Da-da, da-da, da-da, da-da, da-da, da)

RRRRGH, THIS IS THE THANKS I GET?!

(INTERLUDE 2)

(Da, da, da, da)

(Da-da-da-da-da, da, da, da)

(Da-da-da-da-da, da, da, da)

(Da-da-da-da-da. Da. Da)

(BRIDGE)

I didn’t wanna do this.

I SWORE I’d never sing this!

But I’m really runnin’ outta options here,

‘Cause I refuse to be unseen for another year!

A ballad, a jingle, a melody, a glee?!

ANYTHING for them to finally see me!

To this low I’d really rather not stoop to,

But a man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do!...

*Cough* “Where was I? Oh yeah, right…”

(PRE-CHORUS)

Been at this for a century now,

So don’t think I’ll be going away!

C’mon, now. Say something, man!

Gonna leave me hangin’ here without a say?

Well, whenever you wanna chat-

Yeah, that’ll be the day.

Honestly? Something tells me I’m gonna be there, either way…

(CHORUS)

‘Cause this is the thanks I get! (Da-da, da-da, da-da, da-da, da-da, da)

This is the thanks I get! (Da-da, da-da, da-da, da-da, da-da, da)

My mental energy’s all spent! (Da-da, da-da, da-da, da-da, da-da, da)

For thinking today’d be different… (Da-da, da-da, da-da, da-da, da-da, da)

*Sigh.* This is the thanks I get.

(END)

“So thanks! Thanks for nothing…”

-

Been mulling over this ever since Disney released the song weeks ago. Figured I'd try my hand at a Jack Frost version, and I definitely love how it turned out. Might even add it to my fic, hence why I added some passages of it before the song.

Also added to the chorus, putting in extra lines. This was inspired by the Booth To Screen video of This Is The Thanks I Get?! where it ends with Chris Pine singing the whole first chorus before ending with how he harmonizes in the third line of the 2nd and last choruses. So in this version there are musical interludes between verses. Look it up on YouTube, and you guys will see what I mean.

Keep in mind, Jack's mentality here is "This Is The Thanks I Get for thinking today's gonna be any different than yesterday… or the last 100 years.” This is set during his 300 years of isolation, so again, he's trying all sorts of things to get seen. The spectrum is far more different than the villainous version depicted by King Magnifico, especially the middle where Jack loses his cool. Though not shown in these lyrics, in the story setting, he’s gonna try to calm himself down, which is mostly what he’s struggling with during the Bridge. Whereas Magnifico doesn’t, and gets himself continuously worked up before doing something he can’t take back.

Another example of the difference between the two is at the end when, instead of screaming in rage like the king, Jack just reins it in, and just flatly sings the last verse.

Long story short: both characters allow themselves to go insane here. Difference here is Jack remembered to make sure he came back. Magnifico didn’t.

Either way, the song's extremely catchy, and I can find myself singing to either version. Hope you guys enjoyed reading or singing it in your head.

PS: for those wondering, the Sven Jack mentioned in the song is Sven the Reindeer from Frozen. 😉

[toppamplemousse]

helloo! I hope you're doing well 😊

Just wanted to come in here and let you know that I absolutely love and adoreeee your fic – La Rentrée so so much that I’ve read it twice in just a week! (and will probably read it again :D) The writing & characterization was just so so so good, soo fabulous. I think I’ve just found myself a new comfort fic that's for sure💗

Even the second part was just. so. damn. good🥵🔥 words are failing me to explain just how much I loved reading both the parts of this cute and sweet story!!

Absolutely no pressure at all, but is there any chance we could see more glimpses of this universe? Because I am gonna eat up everything related to this AU from now on. Maybe A Day in the Life of the Verstappen-Leclerc Household?

If not, then that's totally fine as well, I am happy that you shared this piece with the rest of us; thank you so much for this fic❤️

ahhh thank you so much, so glad you liked the fics and the universe!! it is truly so much fun to imagine what the grid would be like as PTA parents and to assign roles to all the current and former drivers 💕💕

your ask inspired a bit of a brainworm about a morning in the life of the leclerc-verstappens, below the cut because it then snowballed into almost 3k of chaos and fluff and charles and max being obsessed with each other.

and please send in any more ideas you have for this AU, we’d love to write other little scenes and we’ll try not to make them all 3k 🤪

hope you enjoy!! 😊🥰

wednesday morning [a la rentrée bonus scene] charles/max | 2.6k words

Max feels himself slowly start to wake up, tendrils of awareness yanking away the fog of sleep that covers him like a blanket. The fragmented images of his dream (an Italian villa, a view of the sea, Charles’ golden skin) dissolve into more mundane, but no less welcome, images of their darkened bedroom (the fan whirring overhead, clothes heaped onto the chair beside the closet, Charles’ golden skin).

His husband is still asleep, his legs entwined with Max’s under the covers, his head pillowed on Max’s outstretched arm. Max watches the steady rise and fall of his chest for a few moments, and smiles. All in all, not a bad view to wake up to.

Recalling his dream, Max leans forward to press a lingering kiss to the top of Charles’ shoulder, then ghosts his lips up his neck to mouth at the underside of his jaw. Max gently kisses Charles’ cheek and he feels his husband drift awake, a dimple forming underneath his lips and eyelashes fluttering against his nose. Max pulls back to see those green eyes blink open sleepily.

“Morning schat,” he whispers, pressing another brief kiss to Charles’ other cheek. Charles sighs in contentment and his hand scrabbles briefly under the covers to find Max’s and intertwine their pinkies. Max traces the cool metal of Charles’ wedding ring with his hand, twisting it around Charles’ finger, and he feels as content as Charles sounds.

“G’morning,” Charles’ voice is still deep and raspy with sleep. He shuffles closer, kissing Max’s temple and then nosing at the juncture between Max’s neck and shoulder, looking and sounding like he wants to fall back asleep right there, “‘T time’s it?”

Max loops a hand behind Charles’ waist, both to pull him closer and to check the time on his phone on the nightstand. There’s another text from an unknown number that Max swipes away without a second thought.

“Almost seven,” Max whispers, “So we’ve got a bit of time before the kids wake up.”

“Mmm,” Charles hums, satisfied, and smiles against the skin of Max’s neck. His finger traces a nonsensical pattern on Max’s chest and Max can read the intention behind it.

Just as he’s thinking about doing something about that intention, the door swings open, little feet patter across the floor, a small weight lands on the end of the bed with a tiny “Oof” and then, inexplicably, there’s a cat in Max’s face.

“Dada!” Ollie flops on top of him, grinning, “Jimmy wanted to say hello!”

“Yes, I can see that, liefje,” Max replies, ruffling his son’s messy curls and maneuvering Jimmy off of his face and into the divot of the bed between him and Charles. Jimmy pops one eye open, almost scolding, as if Max was the one throwing him around, and then settles in the warm sheets. “But try to be careful with him, yes?”

“But Dada he likes it, he told me!” Ollie protests, scrambling to stand with his feet on either side of Max’s legs and bending forward to try to do a handstand with his little hands on Max’s shins. “He wants to play!” He insists, voice muffled.

Max is skeptical, given the fact that the cat is already back asleep, but there’s no way he can say that in the face of Ollie’s innocent glee. Max’s fingers tangle with Charles’ on Jimmy’s fur and they exchange a bemused glance, imbued with all the affection they have for their son and the fleeting frustration at having been interrupted.

“Come on, lollipop, let’s leave your Papa to wake up a little more and we’ll go get dressed.” Charles flashes a grateful smile as Max scoops Ollie around the waist with one hand before he can fall off the bed and snatches Jimmy up with the other hand.

“Okay, Dada, and Vivi is making us breakfast, so then we will have it!”

Before Max can even process that statement, there’s a loud ‘thunk’ from the direction of the kitchen, followed immediately by Violette’s voice exclaiming “It’s okay!”

Max looks at Charles again and all hopes for a peaceful morning fly out the window. Charles shakes his head, but smiles, and Max can read the look in his eye as She’s your daughter alright. Max wouldn’t have it any other way. Charles swings his legs over the side of the bed and stands, pulling on a faded Heineken t-shirt that Max got as a gift from a client.

“I’ll go see what she’s up to, and you can help Ollie,” Charles says, tickling their son on his stomach and squeezing Max’s hip as he passes them to open the door and head down the stairs, “Vivi, sweetheart, we talked about only helping in the kitchen when there’s an adult there.”

Once out in the hallway, Max lets Jimmy jump down to the floor, and watches him skitter into the guest room, probably to hide underneath the bed with Sassy and be safe from grabby five year-old hands.

Those grabby five year-old hands are currently pointing to each of the dinosaurs on his pajama shirt and proudly telling Max their names – the red one, ‘apallosaur’ (apatosaurus, Max guesses), the blue one, ‘velonactor’ (velociraptor, Max is pretty sure), and the green on is T-rex and did you know that we are learning about dinosaurs in Mr. Alonso’s class, Dada?

While Ollie narrates, Max fetches his uniform clothes from the dresser. Ollie stubbornly refuses to let Max help him get dressed, insisting that he’s a big boy and he can do it himself.

Max relents with a bemused smile, and watches as Ollie furrows his brow and fumbles with the buttons on his shirt, the same line appearing between his eyebrows as when Charles is poring over blueprints at the kitchen table late at night before an important pitch meeting. Ollie lets out a frustrated huff as he struggles to fold up the cuffs of his shorts the same way that Charles does whenever Max insists that they take the BMW on a road trip instead of the less practical but much sexier and more fun, Max, come on Ferrari. And the way that Ollie’s lips twist to the side in a pout as he tries to yank his socks on in a way that is so undeniably Charles that Max can’t help but laugh.

Ollie’s personality is so unique, a perfect blend of Charles’ impulsive enthusiasm and Max’s thoughtful kindness, but his mannerisms are all Charles. Max can’t wait to see the similarities grow as Ollie does.

Max makes sure to tuck Ollie’s shirt in, lest he get another reminder from the Friends PTA president about the proper way for the kids to wear the uniform, Mr. Verstappen.

Ollie finishes getting dressed, just as Charles calls up the stairs for the two of them to come down for pancake breakfast.

“Pancakes!!!” Ollie cheers as he races out of the room and Max follows him, entering the kitchen to the heavenly smell of baking pancakes and also the sight of flour and chocolate chips scattered across the countertop. His husband and his daughter are not the most organized chefs.

“Ollie, will you set the table for me?” Charles asks, “And Vivi, honey, will you get the plates and cups out?” Both kids immediately set off on their tasks, and Max takes the opportunity to wrap his arms around Charles’ waist and rest his chin on his shoulder.

“If you find any eggshells in your pancakes, don’t say a word, Vivi tried very hard to pick them all out,” Charles warns, flipping the last of the pancakes onto the serving platter and turning off the stove. Max laughs and feels Charles’ answering giggle in his own ribcage.

“Not the most relaxing morning, hmm?” Max says, burying his nose in Charles’ hair “If I had my way, I’d have kept you in bed for another hour at least.”

“Max!” Charles gasps dramatically, reaching around to hit him with the oven mitt, “Si obscène! You only have to wait until Friday, and then the kids will be at Lorenzo’s for the weekend.”

“Hmm, so I have until Friday to think of all the things I’m going to do to you this weekend.” Max murmurs, “The things I’m going to do, the places I'm going to do them.” He gives the counter a significant look and Charles flushes pink as he elbows Max away to grab the serving platter.

There are very few things in the world that Max enjoys more than riling Charles up, he thinks to himself as he grabs the maple syrup and follows Charles into the dining room, where Violette and Ollie are already sitting and chattering away.

The topics of conversation over breakfast vary wildly, as they often do, with Ollie and Violette ping-ponging between discussing their various friends, activities, and opinions, and Max and Charles resigned to exchanging amused glances across the table and barely being able to get in a word edgewise. Today’s conversation ranges from the parts for the school play to the new football cleats that Violette can’t wait to show Coach Ky to the vacation that Clemmie is taking to Australia over winter break.

(Which involves a brief detour into an argument about the capital of Australia: Vivi insists it’s Melbourne and Ollie insists it’s Sydney and Max is unable to resist pointing out that the capital is actually Canberra.)

(Charles smirks at him and Max briefly and vividly recalls the many times he has had to recite the European capitals in his head when Charles is on top of him, or under him, or in front of him, the sight of his husband's golden, glistening skin and the filthy sounds dripping from his lips making it almost impossible for Max to control himself.)

(He also recalls the time that he drunkenly confessed that to Charles in a moment of weakness and now has to endure teasing about it for the rest of his life.)

Max blushes and kicks Charles underneath the table.

After breakfast, Violette sits on the carpet in the living room and Max sits behind her on the couch and he takes a second to briefly marvel at their little family, how much he loves having a morning routine like theirs, where he braids Violette’s hair while she excitedly fills him in on what her plans are for that school day, how his heart warms as he watches Charles in the kitchen with Ollie, giggling as he holds the little boy up to the kitchen sink so that Ollie can help with the dishes, Papa, I can do them for you!

And how he wouldn’t mind adding another tornado of chaos to their lives sometime soon, even if it means that relaxing mornings in bed with Charles will be even rarer than they already are.

Max thought he was the luckiest man alive back when Charles kissed him for the first time, a decade ago now, when he realized that Charles felt it too, that magnetic pull between them. But every single day since, Max’s luck has only continued to grow, giving him two adorable, sweet, happy children, a family and a life he adores with the man that he loves.

Max combs through Violette’s thick blonde hair with his fingers, careful not to pull on the tangles hard enough to pinch. His daughter squirms around in her seat and her mouth opens and shuts a few times, before she continues wriggling around more.

“Vi, is there something you’d like to say? Does your hair hurt?” Max softens his touch a little as he begins to separate her hair into sections.

Violette is quiet for a moment before she says in a stage whisper, “Dada, can you keep a secret? And pinky promise you won’t tell?” Violette holds out her pinky and Max hooks it with his own, promising in a voice that matches Violette’s serious tone, unbelievably curious as to what she’s going to reveal.

Violette’s eyes widen and she lowers her voice, “Yesterday, at recess, Jamie and Lila and Sadie painted their uniform shoes green because it’s Mr. Alonso’s favorite color. And they also spilled the paint in Mr. Webber’s classroom but he doesn’t know yet.”

Violette reveals the secret as if it’s the single most important piece of information she possesses. Max makes sure to gasp dramatically enough to show that he’s really taking this secret-revealing business seriously. He can only imagine how all the involved parties will react when they found out: Mr. Webber, resigned dismay, and Mr. Alonso, restrained glee.

If George found out — which he wouldn’t from Max, he’d made a pinky promise, after all — there would definitely be a fun conversation with Lando about Jamie corrupting the Russell twins that Max would pay to see.

The kids rush upstairs to get their backpacks and Max follows Charles into their bathroom to brush his teeth and get ready. Max can feel Charles’ eyes on him in the mirror as Max fixes his hair, turning his head left and right to see it sticking up all over the place, and thinking about how he should see when Pascale is free for a haircut.

Maybe Charles can read his mind, or maybe he just knows Max really well, but Charles spits his toothpaste into the sink and fixes him with a glare, “Don’t you even think about cutting your hair, I will call Maman right now and tell her she’s not to let you within a meter of a pair of scissors, don’t think I won’t.”

“Why can’t I cut it?” Max protests, “It’s getting way too long, and it just looks shabby.”

“First of all, it looks very dashing and handsome and I don’t want to hear you calling yourself shabby, mon amour.” Max’s stomach flips pleasantly, still excited after all these years to hear Charles call him handsome.

“Second of all,” Charles lowers his voice, “It’s the perfect length to pull on right now, so if you cut it I’ll be very unhappy.” As if to illustrate his point, Charles runs a hand through Max’s hair and gently tugs on it, and Max wishes that they didn’t have to be leaving for school and work in literally two minutes.

“If you don’t stop saying things like that, then I’m adding this bathroom to the list of places I’m going to fuck you this weekend,” Max leans in closer, lips brushing Charles’ ear as he speaks, “And you can pull on my hair all you want while I suck you off, but only after I’ve bent you over the counter and had my way with you, yes?”

“Max,” Charles whines against his neck.

Max presses a kiss to the spot below Charles’ ear, reveling in the shiver he watches spread across his husband’s body. They both giggle as they pull apart, overly flushed for a routine Wednesday morning.

Max finishes getting ready quicker than Charles — no surprises there — and heads downstairs to help Violette pack her backpack and Ollie tie his shoes. A few minutes later, Charles races down the stairs, drafting papers spilling from his briefcase, hugging Ollie and Violette goodbye, promising to see them at pickup, and pressing a chaste, minty, too-quick kiss to Max’s lips that has Max leaning forward to chase his lips as Charles breezes out the door, late for a meeting as usual.

Max hears the Pista engine rev as Charles pulls out of the garage. He hopes that George isn’t watching through his blinds, otherwise they’re going to get another strongly-worded email about respecting the speed limits of the neighborhood.

Max himself makes sure to not go a kilometer above the speed limit as he drives the familiar route to Friends, Ollie and Violette in the backseat giggling about something Mr. Raikkonen said in class yesterday. As Max pulls into the parking lot, he barely has time to slow the car to a stop before Violette is skipping over to Estrella and Ollie is running to greet Jacques.

Max would love nothing more than to get back in his car and begin the commute to work, but unfortunately, as Charles always reminds him, part of the drop-off job includes socializing with the other parents. He glances to the side of the playground and sees George chatting with Oscar and that blond American guy who has a crush on Charles. Resolving to talk mainly to Oscar, Max heads in their direction.

“Max!” George calls as he approaches, “Did you see my text about your assigned dish for the potluck after the Christmas pageant? It’s really quite urgent, we only have two months to go.”

Max congratulates himself quite heartily on his ability to resist the urge to roll his eyes, and wishes more than ever that he could be back in the dream he was having this morning: the sun on his face, the sea in the distance, and Charles – just Charles, only Charles, always Charles – to keep him company.

[tenpintsof-sundrop]

I’ll leave whether or not this is a request up to you. I just want to share the idea of Christmas season with JayGar. Making cookies with them, putting together a gingerbread house too. Kissing under mistletoe. Decorating the tree, just the place in general. Maybe it snows. Gar insists on making snow people and there’s a snowball fight. Watching them roll around in the snow, play-fighting. Going inside after and making hot cocoa. It’d be so sweet, cozy, fun, and loving and I’m soft for it right now. -Rotten Anon

okay, this makes me feral and foaming at the mouth. I am so deeply upset that Jason was not at the Titans Christmas in Season 4 because it's supposed to take place in Gotham at Wayne Manor if I'm correct? and like I understand that Jason was still kind of on the outs with the Titans, but Gar would have wanted him there, and Jason coming to Christmas dinner or something would have been a great step in mending the relationships. grrr

anyway! Christmas with JayGar. omg. consider this my headcanons post because I can't help myself

Christmas With Jason Todd and Gar Logan

(These headcanons operate under the idea that they are in a poly relationship with the reader, or they are flirtatious/sexual and forming that kind of poly relationship.) (This also kind of accidentally turned into Christmas headcanons about the Titans in general.) (Also, this is mostly fluff and there is some mild sexual themes, because I can't help myself when it comes to JayGar.)

So, first of all, I definitely feel like Christmas at Titans Tower would be so different from a family Christmas - like, spending Christmas with Jason and Gar once the three of you have moved out to start a family and 'settle down' or when everyone has come home to a place like Wayne Manor for a traditional family Christmas. Living with Jason and Gar in your own place would be a lot more like you mentioned, but I am thinking about more of the S2 era (I love that era so much.) But I could definitely make another post about like - post No Place Like Home Christmas with JayGar.

Christmas at Titans Tower - I am imagining a situation where they lived at the Tower for longer before Rose showed up (and then Deathstroke tried to kill everyone) and they had Christmas during that time. OR during the time they continued living at the Tower before Gotham, they had Christmas (and Jason is still there because I said so). It would be wonderful chaos.

Dick would not even have the idea to decorate or really celebrate Christmas in any way until Rachel or Gar bring it up. The original Titans did celebrate Christmas, but it was 90% Dawn's doing. (In the show, we saw how she turned Hank's sad, single guy apartment into a really femme, well decorated place. And it is of my opinion that she planned Garth's birthday party by herself. She would demand Christmas decorations.) And because Dawn wanted extensive Christmas decorations, Dick funded it (with his daddy's credit card) because he would do anything to please her.

So back then, the original Titans had a huge, lavish Christmas tree, they had all kinds of extensive decorations for the main lounge area - Dawn bought everyone ugly Christmas sweaters and Christmas pajamas and made everybody wear them. And they definitely did a Secret Santa where everyone picked a name and only bought one gift, but it was soooo easy to tell who bought which gift.

So when Rachel starts asking Dick 'what are we gonna do for Christmas?' - Dick's first thought is: nothing. Kory and Conner are curious about what Christmas is - it's actually funny trying to explain to them how a holiday that is technically rooted in religion is actually practised by a lot of non-religious people, and most of the traditions have nothing to do with Christianity.

Gar is excited to do something for Christmas. When he was living at Caulder House, they used to have a big family Christmas - mostly because nobody left the house and it was something to do. His parents weren't super religious when he was growing up, so he never had super traditional Christmas celebrations when he was living on the nature reserve - Rita and the others were the first ones to introduce him to a lot of Christmas elements and classic Christmas films, and he has loved it ever since.

Gar loves the idea of a time when you give to others selflessly and when simply being kind is a unique magic of its own. So of course he's eager to celebrate Christmas with the Titans.

You're kind of indifferent to it all - you can get into Christmas, but you can go without it.

And on the other hand, Jason hates Christmas.

Yeah - genuinely, it's of my opinion that Jason from Season 1/Season 2 (and probably Season 3) would fucking despise the concept of Christmas. (An evolved, post No Place Like Home Jason would love Christmas, but we'll talk about that later.)

So - Jason hates Christmas. And it's one of those things that, much like everything else in his life, can be attributed to his upbringing. Sometimes Rachel makes jokes that Jason blames everything on 'foster kid bullshit' but - it's true. Because everything in his life can be blamed on his shitty childhood. When you grow up poor like he did, there is no Christmas magic. He was the kid in school who was telling everyone else that Santa Claus does not exist, because he was bitter and angry that Santa never brought him any presents, and he realized very early on that it was just a made-up story. So he forced that bitterness about his own situation onto other people.

Did he start liking Christmas after he moved in with Bruce? Fuck no.

Having Christmas with a billionaire only made things more awkward for Jason. Especially because Alfred is the one with Christmas spirit, and not Bruce. Bruce grew up half Catholic and half Jewish due to his parents faith, so before they died, he several years observing Jewish holidays and having a huge blow-out Christmas with a lot of Christmas magic, and after they died - he became stoic.

(Note: I am talking about the Titans version of Bruce here.)

He mostly observes the holidays by silently donating to charity, sometimes going to church to say prayers and reflect, and privately lighting a menorah and saying the prayers that go along with it to honor his parents - something that he has never invited Dick or Jason to participate in. Alfred always makes a big, traditional Christmas dinner and decorates the Manor, and he is the one who prompts the exchange of gifts - and Jason fucking hates this.

Jason doesn't have an income of his own, and he hates shopping for gifts with someone else's credit card, and he always feel awkward as fuck receiving generic, expensive gifts from Bruce (like an Xbox or an iPhone) while giving him something like a tie or cuff links that Alfred picked out - that Bruce knows were bought with his own money, that doesn't even garner much of a react beyond a polite, mandatory 'thank you'. In Jason's opinion, one of the only hell's worst than spending Christmas starving, cold, and penniless is spending it in one of the large, opulent, over-decorated rooms of the Manor sitting with Bruce in stony silence while the man sips tea and makes stiff faces at the gift Jason's gives him.

So Jason doesn't expect Christmas at the Tower to be much different. He's not looking forward to it, and generally, wants to avoid it.

But he has no such luck.

Dick is randomly on the phone with Dawn one night (Dawn and Hank are trying to do the farm thing again - they're not taking care of horses, but they are living out in the country in the middle of nowhere, because they have come to like the seclusion), and he mentions that Rachel brought up Christmas, and this sets off every neuron in Dawn's brain. She asks Dick what he's gonna do for Christmas and he says 'I don't know'. Within hours, Dawn has dragged Hank to a Christmas tree farm, picked out the biggest tree possible, and has it strapped to the top of their truck, driving in to San Francisco.

If Rachel wants Christmas, she's going to get Christmas.

When you get up and find Dawn decorating (she dug out the Titans' old decorations, and Dick and Hank are struggling to get the tree out of the elevator) - you are excited. You rush to get the others out of bed, and immediately - Jason starts complaining. He says Christmas is stupid - he's one of those people who feels the need to point out that Jesus was actually born in the summer, and that it's a holiday 'actually made my companies just to sell you more crap'.

But when Dawn says that she needs help bringing out more of the boxes of decorations and Gar asks Jason to come and help, whipped as he is, Jason sighs and rolls his eyes, and he goes to help.

Decorating is certainly an adventure. Everyone is tripping over each other, Dawn wants the tree moved to different locations in the lounge three different times and it's only on the third try that Dick and Hank remember that Conner has super strength and he should be the one doing most of the heavy lifting.

At one point, you're up on a ladder hanging garlands and you stupidly ask Jason to 'give you a hand' - thinking that he'll hold the other end of the garland while you secure it or that he'll hand you another tack, but instead, he walks up behind you where you're standing on the ladder, very firmly and confidently puts his whole hand on your ass and says 'better?'

Gar makes everyone hot chocolate to help the decorating process along, and Jason says that the holiday is 'slightly less stupid' because he thinks the hot chocolate tastes really good.

Once all the decorations from the boxes have been put up, Rachel gets the idea that everyone should make their own custom ornament to put on the tree, and her and Dawn rush out to buy supplies for this, and while everyone is gathered around the kitchen island participating in this crafting session - it is the most genuine family moment that you have ever felt with the Titans. Everyone decorates a simple, flat piece of wood with glitter or paint to put on the tree - Gar decorated his with a green tiger wearing a Santa hat, and Jason made his a depiction of Santa Claus crashing his slay and dying - which you thought was funny and put on a central position on the three.

Gar even got the idea to put Krypto's paw in paint and stamp an ornament with his paw print so he could have one too.

(Okay, this is getting really long and rambly, so here, some quick fire hcs.)

Once Jason figures out that he can use mistletoe as an excuse to kiss people, he is infuriating about it. He will carry it around and dangle it over your head and Gar's head - you will just sigh and smack him, and Gar will blush so hard. Sometime's Gar will give Jason a kiss on the cheek if no one is looking (usually, Jason will respond to this by dodging and stealing a kiss on Gar's mouth) - and rarely, you will actually give in and kiss Jason on the lips if no one else is around.

At one point, Jason even tapes the mistletoe to his bellybutton as a 'joke' - to make you kiss his cock. (It definitely doesn't work. Ya know.)

Gar loves Christmas carols and Christmas music, and he will always play them and sing them at the top of his lungs - Jason pretends to be annoyed by it, but you have caught him singing along under his breath or mouthing the words, or even dancing a little when he thinks nobody is paying attention. But you know the annoyance is kind of real during the 5th round of Jingle Bell Rock. Gar can't help it though.

Gar is a vegan, and Jason will claim it's because he's bored - but he spends one afternoon cooking up vegan versions of several Christmas classics, like Christmas sugar cookies, and a full Christmas spread (with substitute meats that you guys both can't decide are creepy or cool) - and when Gar sees everything, he has some tears of joy in his eyes at the pure consideration of it. Turns out, Jason is actually an amazing cook. (Dick and Rachel are particularly surprised by this development.)

One night, the three of you sit down and watch a bunch of Christmas movies together. Jason finds Home Alone to be hilarious because Kevin is so brutal (and naturally, Jason is reminded of himself), and he spends most of the film commenting on how stupid the criminals are. When you watch The Grinch, Gar cries at the scene where the Grinch is bullied in school and you and Jason have to comfort him about it.

At one point, you buy you, Gar, and Jason matching ugly Christmas sweaters and Jason is adamant that he will not wear it. You are disappointed, but you put on yours anyway, and soon you hear some mumbling between Gar and Jason, including a 'please' and some grumbling on Jason's part - they come back twenty minutes later. Jason is wearing his sweater, looking stone-faced and grumpy about it, and Gar is looking entirely pleased with himself. You have no clue if sexual favours were exchanged, but when Gar moves to put a Santa hat on Jason, the effort he makes to fight Gar off about it is so lackluster.

When Dawn takes a picture of the three of you in your sweaters together, Jason flips her off - and it's one of your favourite pictures of all time.

(I could easily go on like this forever, but I'll leave it there for now.)

[almost-correct-quotes]

love bite

reverie audios, law x sweets, 500~ wordcount

contains: blood feeding, snowballing (kind of), law-typical suggestive fluff, no actual smut i promise, altair friendly

AN: literally just "what if sweets was a little bit more of a freak than in canon". also i gave them a midwestern accent on accident sorry

When their fangs punctured Law’s skin, his hand shot to the back of their neck, pushing their head even closer to his throat.

“You can- shit, sweets, that’s-” he moaned, canting his hips up against theirs. 

They growled quietly, “Stay still.”

“Yeah, got it, I- God, I’m way too into that,” he rambled.

When they removed their fangs from him, he tilted his head up even more, baring his neck.

“You can take some more, y’know…”

“Don’t wanna take too much,” they muttered.

“I know my limits. ‘Sides, I could just heal myself if you did take too much. Trust me. Bite me again.”

“You’re sure?” Their fangs were still extended, Law’s blood dripping onto their bottom lip. Fuck. 

“Yeah. Please bite me, doll. Feel like I’m gonna go insane with your fangs so close, I need it-” he cut himself off with a choked moan as they sunk back into him, a different side of his throat this time. 

They drank slow and carefully, in an utter contrast to the mess of a sorcerer under them. When they finished, instead of kissing the spot they drank from, like they usually did, they closed their mouth immediately, keeping a bit of blood they hadn’t swallowed in their mouth. 

They tilted Law’s head back down, pressing a clawed finger to his bottom lip. He opened his mouth instinctively, to be met with their tongue down his throat and his own blood forced down it. 

Law swallowed, “I- you- okay.”

“Thought you’d like that,” they laugh. 

“Y’ menace, come ‘n’ kiss me proper,” Law complained. 

The softness of the kiss they gave him, smiling against his lips, fit with the sweetness of his blood on their lips (and his, now, he realized).

“You better believe me when I say you taste good, now.”

Noticing the potential double meaning, Law groaned, “Keep sayin’ things like that, and you’ll get a second course 'f sex essence, sweets.”

“Y’know I can sense it, even if I’m not feeding on it, right? Same way I can smell your blood or tell if you’re runnin’ on less life essence than you should be,” they explained, “not that I need to, you make it damn obvious when you’re enjoyin’ yourself.”

Heat rose to Law’s face.

“Speakin’ of, you wanna do somethin’ about that?”

“I think I’d rather just pass out, to be honest,” Law said sheepishly. He’s more used to being fed on now, but it still wipes him out a bit.

They hummed. “I’m gettin’ you some water at least, first. Or- orange juice? What do humans give to blood donors?”

Law laughed, “Either’s fine, sweets.”

Still on top of Law, they propped themself up on their elbows and stretched out like a cat. At his amused expression, they said, “Gotta get my… circulation… going. Or somethin’.”

With that, they left Law to himself, hand tracing the spots they bit him, more than a little amazed at how it healed itself.

[antofstory]

a story a day [5]

‘You here, dad?’

We held past another winter

It was tough

But we got used playing chess in the dark

I looked at my son as I looked at a picture on my phone that I kept secret for so long. It was an unknown Reddit contributor who posted this little poem in the last days of the last winter. If it had been twenty years prior, he probably would’ve gotten a negative karma for such a cheese fest. At the time of the screenshot he got upvoted ten thousand three hundred twenty seven times. So yea, it was a big deal. 

My son has never seen winter and he never knew it had existed. He never knew such a word. Obviously. He lived in the dark, thinking he was under the sun. 

‘How are we going to the mall: ship or shuttle? Or wait, you wanted to tell me something?’

‘Nothing particular, son. Let’s take the ship and I will show you how to pilot.’

I needed more privacy this time. I didn’t want a thousand extra eyes and ears spying on us. This would give me extra minutes to explain myself. But I had to take the risk. It was the time. It had to be. My son needed to know that his dad was born in winter. That his dad liked to play snowballs, to roll in piles of snow long after that playful age. But would he believe me, what should I say? Every word, every pause counts. 

We took the elevator up to our parking lot. There was the ship. A family size, supersonic B12 Hot Air ship, with two pilot seats, five passengers and a sizable trunk. With the cruising speed of 250 knots I would never be able to outfly DTMs, but truth has had its own cruising speed.  

‘Alright. Let’s go through the checklist, shall we?’

‘Chassis is dry. Ignition is safe. Windshield is clean. The runway is clear. I guess we’re ready to go.’

‘I guess so.’ I was equally uncertain, but at least one had to show confidence. And so we took off, and went straight into traffic, among hundreds of ships like ours, having their own plans, following their own routes, flying A to B in blissful ignorance of what was about to happen in this cockpit in just a moment. 

Oles was going to be a great pilot, I could feel. Too bad I would never see. 

‘Now take the right lane and at cruising speed switch over to autopilot.’

Someone had to take the consequence, and it rather be me. I wanted to give him a couple of minutes to get comfortable, before I’d start my message. I didn’t even want to say a thing, I just watched his calm profile, so similar to his grandfather’s. Long nose, thin lips and constantly concerned look as if He would’ve been so happy to know he had one. Sadly, there was room for only one secret today

‘Right. Now listen to me carefully. I’m about to tell you something that you will lose many nights on. Going through every word, trying to find sense in what I will be saying. 

There was a time on Earth once, when everything froze.’

Now I was on borrowed time. Now they were after me. If I was lucky I had a minute, if not so lucky, ten seconds, before TMs showed up. 

‘There was a time, when I was born, when water turned to ice outside, and so did your nose. There was a time when real snow was coming from the sky and stayed on the ground making white pillows under the feet. There was a time when birds had to fly to warmer places for three months or even longer. There was a time when no fruit grew on the trees nor in the ground. There was a time when snow became ice and ice rained on the head and it was dangerous to go outside.’

‘What do you mean, I don’t understand you.’ 

‘It lasted for three months, between Autumn and Spring and was called Winter. I just shared a big secret that nobody should know, and I’ll be taken away forever, and you will be told everything I said is a lie. But you have your own choice, and you can choose to trust me instead of DTMs. But promise me you will show them you did not believe me’

‘Why are you telling me this? Don’t you want to stay? Don’t you want to be together, to fly our ship together?’ My son was crying, he felt it was real, he felt I said something very wrong. 

‘I’m sorry, boy. I miss being miserable and depressed.’

[bittyfromquotev]

Second controversial take of the day, bc apparently we're on a roll

but just with how some of the way y'all be talking, I honest to God don't blame bitty for throwing out the fact that at any point some of you fuckers could be the gore anons (which is never out of the realm of possibility, it's not hard to hide typing quirks or mimic someone else's). you act the Exact same

'bu-bu-but we don't send gore we're just-' white knighting? yeah. exactly my fucking point. the whole, "doing it for the greater good" and speaking over the actual people that want you to shut the fuck up. The Exact. Same. Thing.

With the g-anons, they do it in the name for defending solarmoon shippers by running 'fake queers' off the internet. they speak over other shippers, that explicitly tell them to shut up and fuck off.

And here you are, trying to defend the gore victims by trying to control and criticize how others chose to cope with the situation. Even though Several people including some of the victims want you to shut up and fuck off.

This isn't assumption either, this is fact. Your actions speak loud and clear all on their own, regardless of how you may try to justify them.

Learn to take a hint, that your opinion is neither wanted or asked for. it is not your place to decide what bitty should or shouldn't do. better yet, ✨it's none of your business✨

Congratulations for being a hypocrite btw and contributing to another actual problem in general fandom spaces. I don't even want to acknowledge the toxicity of unsolicited criticism, but you're doing just fine indulging in that topic all on your own aren't you?

[side note: "To that anon? Way to completely not read what I said at all." you sure do like to pick and choose what you read and complain about don't you? awfully convenient to miss the point of the whole paragraph. ironic considering you then go on to complain about bitty not seeing your dozen of points that are explicitly unwelcome on this blog. And that's not ever addressing trying to side with a harasser anon, not a good look. dare I say, blatantly obtuse if not worse.]

Seriously tho bitty, you and anyone else getting this bs (bc I doubt you're the only one rn) really should just block them the next time they try to repeat themselves. Don't matter if it's the same person, or 3 different ones. People like these are the how and why g-anons exist in the first place. This mindset is explicitly Dangerous. Which sounds extreme, but as someone who's been in more than 60+ fandoms for over 7 years, I know wtf I'm talking about. It always ends the same. Twitterhead whiteknights doing bigoted shit in the name of the greater good, no matter how well meaning, is how petty callouts come about. And when it doesn't stop immediately in its track, it snowballs and gets even worse from there - ❄

Thank you so much! Lmao I almost thought you were them because of how this ask started off but I’m glad it’s you :)

Yeah they—

They don’t seem to want to listen to me. They keep telling me the same stuff over and over and it’s funny yet irritating because I’d explained myself already (I know I’ve said this like 15 times but I need to get this point across). I do plan on blocking them if they ever try something though.

But like ❄️ said, I am allowed to cope and react to things however the fuck I want. I do my best to comfort or be there for my friends and those affected more severely, but I’m personally not gonna cry about it.

No one should speak for anyone else. I let the “friend” who abused me for 10 years speak for me a lot and it doesn’t make people feel good. It’s very invalidating and no one wants someone to speak for them.

Once again, thank you so much anon. I greatly appreciate it :)

[thedo0zyslider]

Explosions Across Lifetimes - Chapter Twenty Two: Can't Get Enough of You - 3k words

Fwhip returns to the Codlands for another day, and it is one last good moment before things start snowballing for Jimmy.

A03 Link

Playlist

A few days later, Fwhip stops by for that slime farm problem. Jimmy shows him the problem, and it’s apparently something the Count can fix though it will take a few hours. The Codfather decides to leave him to it, not wanting to get in the way. He also needs to fix up a few structures on the other side of the empire, which is more than enough to keep him bust for the time being.

And that's exactly how he spends the next few hours, working with his people to restore a few houses and a few other buildings that had started to fall into disrepair. Some were broken due to the corruption, and others were just old. But they all needed fixing regardless. Though Fwhip got down with the slime farm faster than expected, and interrupts him in the middle of replacing a few windows, a smile on the Count’s face despite the green substance all over him.

“I fixed your farm problem!” Fwhip says, stopping a little ways away from the Codfather, who just smiles at him as he walks over to meet his partner. Though he only does so after a small wave to the other codfolk he’d been working with, knowing he’d probably be a while before he could resume his work.

“Did you?” He asks, flicking a piece of slime from the half dragon's hair. “What was the problem?”

Fwhip followed his movements with an amused huff. “You just needed to add a few more hoppers and redstone dust.” He explained, pulling Jimmy’s hand away from his hair, amused by the action. “And stop that! I can get it off myself”

“But you got it all over you!” Jimmy says, flicking another piece of the green goop off his boyfriend’s shoulder.

“I know,” The Count huffs, in a tone that sounds like he’s been trying to remove the stuff for hours. “Why’d you have to pick the stickiest export ever!?”

“Didn’t mean to do that, really.” Jimmy shrugs. “Lemme help you get that off.”

“Such a gentleman!” Fwhip smiles, letting himself be led down the now familiar route to Jimmy’s small shack of a house. At some point in the short journey the blonde grabs onto his hand, and in return the Count interlocks their fingers, allowing himself to be dragged inside and towards Jimmy’s bathroom with ease.

Wordlessly, the Codfather hands him a towel. Fwhip takes it, watching as Jimmy goes to grab another one. As the Count tries his best to get it off his clothes, Jimmy goes back to trying to get it out of his hair, as he knows how much of a problem that can be. He ruffles Fwhip’s hair with the towel until he gets all the slime out, Fwhip laughing and giggling the whole time.

“Thanks!” He smiles, running a hand through his ginger locks a few times to fix it.

Jimmy takes the towels, and puts them somewhere different from the clean ones. “No problem!” He says over his shoulder. The cod waits a minute for Fwhip to say something else after that, maybe about the slime farm again, or about what he’d been doing a few minutes prior, but the Count is oddly silent.

The Codfather turns, curious, and sees his boyfriend just blinking down at his cat. Norman must’ve wandered it at some point, it seemed, and Fwhip had clearly been caught off guard by the surprise cat. Norman mews up at the strange human, and the half dragon glances towards him, a little expectantly, like he was expecting to be introduced to the furry thing sitting on the floor.

“Oh! This is Big Man Norman!” Jimmy said, picking the little cat up. Norman meowed lightly, but seemed to be okay with being held once the cod started petting him. He laid politely in Jimmy's arms, watching Fwhip as the Count walked over to the both of them.

“Hi buddy!” The half dragon smiled, and Norman started rubbing his little head against the Count’s hand. Fwhip smiled wider, and gave the cat more and more pets. That is until Norman wanted down, and Jimmy moved out of the bathroom slightly. The cat scrambles out of his owner's arms, and walks off into some other part of the house.

Jimmy watched the cat saunter away with a giggle, reminding himself to feed the little scamp soon. He stands there in his bedroom for a few seconds, maybe even a minute, waiting for his partner to follow.

Fwhip came up behind him quietly, wrapping his arms around the Codfather from behind. Jimmy smiled softly as he leaned into the contact, Fwhip’s face being buried in the crook of his neck. A low purr came from the back of his boyfriend's throat, and the blonde felt himself start to melt a little.

"You're not gonna steal the crown from me, are you?" He asked, his tone low and quiet. It was supposed to be a tease more than anything, but there was some genuine concern buried under the layers of softness. He's aware that this whole crown thing had made him a little paranoid, maybe too much so. Though he doubted Fwhip, or most of their friends, would do anything drastic to obtain it. The keyword there being most .

"No," Fwhip murmured, nuzzling his face into Jimmy’s neck. "I want the crown, but there's no fun if I get it immediately. And it would be mean."

Jimmy hummed in agreement, taking the piece of jewelry off his head. He titled it around in his hands, admiring his partner’s handy work for what has to be the millionth time at this point. It was a beautiful crown, really it was, which was probably some people’s motivation to get their hands on it.

"Besides," Fwhip added, a hint of embarrassment now in his tone. "You look quite pretty in it."

"Thanks.." Jimmy laughed softly. If he wasn’t being held right now he would have turned around and peppered his partner's face with soft kisses. But unfortunately, he was quite comfortable like this, and didn’t want to give that up.

A second later he reached up, gently taking the crown off the top of his head. Fwhip stopped nuzzling into Jimmy’s neck, instead choosing to watch whatever his boyfriend was doing. The half dragon’s gaze followed him, curious as Jimmy turned the item over in his hands for the first of many times that night.

"Which one's my gem?" The cod asked, eyeing each rock on the crown carefully.

"The color coordination wasn't enough?" Fwhip teased lightly, and the Codfather could practically feel the fond roll of his partner's eyes.

"Pix doesn't have enough colors for his vigil, so you don't have enough for this crown. Probably." He reasoned, trying to glance at Fwhip’s face from where it rested. The Count made a huff of faux annoyance, rolling his eyes one final time.

Fwhip took Jimmy’s hand gently in his, turning the crown until it faced what seemed to be the right direction. "It's that one." He pointed at a lime green gem, making a clink sound as he tapped it gently with a claw. A claw the cod was always forgetting he had, to be honest.

"Where’s yours?" He asked, glancing at any sort of stone with a reddish hue, since that seemed to be his partner's main color and all.

"The other side," Fwhip spun the item around again. "The red one, on the right, next to Gem's….gem"

"A gem for Gem." Jimmy giggled. "Is Sausage's to the left of yours?" He assumed the stone for Mythland’s ruler would be by the twins, due to their closeness. It was hard to imagine them as anything but a trio, and the same applied to their gemstones on the crown.

"No, that's Pix's. Sausage's is here." The crown was turned again in his fish-like hands. "It's next to Pearl's." Fwhip pointed at yet another green gem, this one a darker shade than Jimmy’s. "The other one on this side is Joey" The Count motioned towards a more purple colored gem as he spoke, then moved onto the next rock without further prompting.

"And on your side," Jimmy let his partner continue to explain, a soft smile etched into his face. Fwhip had clearly been itching to talk about it, his eyes gleaming with excitement as he talked and his voice giddy as he rambled. "The blue one is Scott’s, and the light pink one is Katherine's."

"You put Mine next to Scotts," Jimmy muttered, curiosity sparking in the back of his mind. "Why so?"

“I put them where it felt right, I guess.” Fwhip shrugged. Jimmy nodded, staring at the little trio of gems. He guessed it was kinda right, in some way, to put him and Scott next to each other like that. As Jimmy pondered that, the Count briefly paused his explanation, then resumed once he was sure the other had had enough time for his thoughts.

"And the last side has Shrub," The crown was turned over one last time so they could view its fourth and final side. "And then Lizzie and Joel's are next to each other." The cod nodded, taking a mental note of that, and probably looking quite intensely at the gemstones in question.

The whole time Jimmy had been making many and many mental notes of everything Fwhip said, memorizing which gem belonged to who and what color it was the best he could. The engineer had made this crown for him and their fellow rulers, and Jimmy wanted to sear every detail into his memory. He was so enthusiastic about it as well, he cared so much about that little crown, which made the cod want to memorize it even more.

As Jimmy did that, Fwhip took the crown gently from his, and placed it atop his head once more. “There” The Count hummed, tugging Jimmy closer towards the bed. “Back where it belongs.” The blonde laughed, allowing himself to be pulled on his head bed, Fwhip joining him on it; every movement being gentle and soft enough to melt him entirely.

“You’re beautiful, you know that?” Fwhip muttered, moving so they sat face to face.

“Am I now?” He laughed, hands coming up to cup his cheeks. Fwhip looked into his eyes, gaze so full of affection it made Jimmy feel like he was going to explode from it all.

“You are!” The Count said, squishing his face slightly. “You have cute little freckles, and your eyes are big and beautiful and you’re strong and muscular and handsome and-”

“I get it, I get It!” Jimmy cut the other off with a laugh, placing his hands on top of Fwhip’s. He moved them off his face, giggling warmly from all the flattering words. A few seconds later he was being drawn in for a soft kiss, and the blonde sighed into it instantaneously.

They shared a few more kisses, longer ones, ones that gradually got more heated, until Jimmy was straddling Fwhip, then the half dragon's back hit the sheets; the blonde beginning to pull him downwards as they pulled away. The Count smiled up at him as they connected their lips once again, Jimmy doing more than simply pull back this time.

“We haven’t done this in a while, have we?” Fwhip purred in amusement, smiling as Jimmy’s kisses trailed swiftly down to his jawline, stubble somewhat unpleasantly brushing against the cod's lips. The Count almost frantically slipped his scarf off, pulling his collar to the side in anticipation.

"No, we haven't." Jimmy muttered, lightly biting down his partner's upper neck. Fwhip shivered at the action, causing the cod to smirk against soft skin. He hummed as he continued his work, gradually beginning to leave more open mouthed kisses to his boyfriend's throat. Fwhip whined beneath him, hands starting to trail upwards slowly. Jimmy made a small noise as they ended up tugging at his hair gently, now scratching his scalp as well; which earned the Count another hickey placed on his skin, Jimmy pulling his lips away with a wet popping sound.

The half dragon pulled him closer as the kisses began to trail further downwards, having stretched his neck out towards the cod at one point. Jimmy hummed, now sucking another bruise into Fwhip’s collarbone, slowly inching towards his chest area. Under him the Count made a muffled groaning noise, claws tugging at Jimmy’s hair again.

A few kisses later he felt the claws stop scratching his head, and he frowned, already missing the touch. Fwhip's sounds had quieted as well, but Jimmy kept pressing kisses further down his chest, still able to hear some more breathy growls rumbling in the half dragon's throat. He only stopped when he felt a weight lift from his head, lips making another popping sound as he left the last hickey unfinished.

Jimmy pulled back quickly and saw a guilty looking man beneath him, one hand definitely on the crown right now. Fwhip, knowing damn well he'd been caught, slowly let go of the thing and moved his hands away, until the accessory sat nicely on the cod's head once more.

"You're quite cheeky, aren't you?" Jimmy huffed, pulling away until he sat on the other’s lap again. Fwhip, face still nicely flushed, just smirked at him.

"I had to try, just once!" He smiled, watching as the cod adjusted the crown slightly.

In response Jimmy leaned down again, smashing their lips together. The Count made a startled sound, but kissed back regardless, hands trailing over his face once more. This kiss wasn't very long, only going for a few seconds, but both of them leaned into it while it lasted.

“If you’re gonna do that to me I’ll just have to try again!” The Count muttered cheekily against his lips, panting just slightly.

“Then I’ll never kiss you ever, never for the rest of time.” The blonde countered, and Fwhip gave up on his crown stealing schemes with a small pout. Obviously getting kissed stupid for the rest of his life was of a higher priority to the half dragon, just as Jimmy thought it should be, because he was a great kisser after all.

Once they pulled away a final time Jimmy rolled off Fwhip, until he sat next to Fwhip on the bed. A loud purr came from his boyfriend's throat, the Codfather leaning against his shoulder and burying himself fully into the warmth of another person.

“Hi!” Fwhip exclaimed quietly, a quick kiss being pressed into blonde hair as he did so. As he spoke, Norman also jumped onto the bed; the little cat probably having been tired of being alone. Jimmy didn’t know if the Count’s little greeting was directed at him or his cat, but scratched behind his big man’s ears regardless.

Norman settles down next to them after a moment, stretching out lazily onto the covers. He and Fwhip seems to be purring in unison, the latter seeming entirely unaware of the fact. Jimmy thought it was cute as hell, but wasn’t going to mention it. Because then Fwhip would say it’s not cute and then stop doing it.

“Don’t you have a forge to run or something?” Jimmy mumbled, the noise sounding a little sleepy. He leaned his head against Fwhip’s chest, the other shaking his head in response.

“Can a man not cuddle for a few minutes?” He asked, arms slipping around the cod’s waist just as they had been earlier.

“Not when you’re a busy man.” The blonde says in response, knowing that if they cuddle any longer they're both going to sleep and not get anything done; on top of running their sleep schedules.

“Wow, you don’t want my cuddles. I can’t believe it.” Fwhip says, withdrawing himself from the cod. Jimmy suddenly does not want to stop cuddling and be productive, the familiar warmth of his partner leaving him far too quickly. “I never said that!” The cod protested, trying to lean against Fwhip for as long as possible.

“Sure orchid, sure.” The Count teases, going to stand from the bed. Jimmy makes a small huff, now a little cross that his stupid plan had actually worked. He was expecting it to not, in all honesty, and look where that had gotten them. Because now it is time for Fwhip to leave the house, maybe touch up some redstone on the slime farm, and finally head back to his empire. Though Jimmy supposes it’s okay, if he gets to go help with more stuff around his own kingdom afterwards.

The day after that, Jimmy loses the crown to Scott. Which is fine, really it is. He knew the crown was going to be stolen eventually., and it was no surprise that Rivendell’s ruler had snagged it when he saw the chance.

What actually bothered him was a few days later, when he lost the Codfather head. Jimmy didn’t know why it was taken away from him, it had just been taken. The Council had said the cod themselves had deemed him unworthy, whatever the hell that meant. When the cod speak, it is typically not questioned, and the orders are always followed.

So all Jimmy could do was sit there, and stare at Caleb’s poor, sympathetic face in disbelief as the Codfather head was taken from him. The very head he’d tried so hard to protect, the one he’d freed a demon over, was just taken away like that.

He had to prove himself worthy of it. The Council wouldn’t tell him why, or how, just that he had to prove himself worthy to wear the head again. Not be a leader again, just earn the head back. But the head was almost synonymous with the leadership of his empire, so in a way they were still telling him he was not worthy to lead.

Now Jimmy stays in his house, some stupid codboy head on top of his head instead, pacing and brainstorming what he could do to be “worthy” again. Everytime he leaves he feels the stares on his back, the confusion in his people's gazes. Confusion he knows he cannot provide an answer too. So he stays inside, and wonders, and dreads and dreads and dreads how he’s going to explain this.

Maybe he doesn’t have too, though, maybe he can just not say anything, and eventually he’ll get the Codfather head back. And then everything will be fine and it will all go back to normal. Yeah, yeah that sounds like a good plan.

[cleradinel]

I'm really live and let live with hcs and theories, but i think i just really don't get the bi Mike thing. Because i keep seeing people say Mike is bi but when i actually see the posts explaining why (which is Really rare too, it's usually just treated as 'clearly obvious' which is also interesting) there's always scenes getting ignored. Things like Mike kissing El and obviously caring about her immensely get mentioned, but then the sibling and cousin coding (even right before their first kiss) just gets ignored. "Boys only" isn't worth analyzing, it's just wording (but Will saying "a day free of girls" is still obviously gay coding). Mike not kissing El back in s3 gets acknowledged but him pulling her hands off his face at the beginning of the season doesn't get mentioned. Everyone having posters of people they're attracted to (Nancy, Steve, etc) on their walls is just accepted as fact but Mike only having posters of buff guys still means he's into girls. And so on

What's even wilder is that I've seen multiple people claim they Don't think Mike was ever into El but still think he's bi which is just. ?. I don't get it. Because outside of El he hasn't shown anything you could even Pretend is attraction to girls. Canonically he's had little contact with girls because they "think he's gross", didn't care for Max when she showed up, didn't care for the dragonslayer princess or Phoebe Cates, doesn't have any female fictional characters he admires, AND didn't get Argyle falling for pretty girl Eden. El is really the only thing you could sort of try to justify any attraction to girls in any capacity (and even that's rocks in canon)

Bi Mike just confuses me because all posts arguing in favour of it always ignore certain scenes. And yeah obviously, they have to it's because you just can't explain them from the bi angle. It's just odd to me that so many people argue it's equally as canon supported as gay Mike when there's multiple instances that have to be overlooked for the theory to hold up. Not trying to sound rude, hcs are obviously cool, i just don't get why bi Mike is argued to be canon so much when the show contradicts it multiple times (coming from a bi person btw)

i'm a live and let live too ! i'm no headcanon police and i am nobody to tell you what to do or how to think. i like pointing stuff out i find interesting and if those things i'm pointing out (and many others have pointed out) leads me to believe wholeheartedly mike is gay, i'll allow myself to be passionate about that. (get heated ? sometimes i admit) (because i think it's an important thing to take into account when discussing him/elmike/byler/the narrative/where we've been and where we're going yadda yadda yadda)

i've seen bi mike posts that are more on the analysis side, but then those posts go on to say something like mike wasn't regretting telling will to dance with the girl (i don't think mike was like "no come back i am so consciously in love with you" at all, but more so "well this has me feeling In Ways i don't want to describe or think about) at the snowball, or that the ending of s3 is just solely about him being sad to see el and will go (i agree he is obviously sad about that, but literally what were those two back to back byler and elmike scenes about, considering their nature and content, if not mike getting confirmation he wants to date his dude bestie ? which i really, really think is the conclusion to his "i have an idea, boys only" moment) so again, even if we're both analyzing, we're truly not analyzing in the same way. i can't take those things as proof coming from a show that keeps hammering it over our heads that we have to think deeper and pull back the curtain. they don't want you to think of these scenes as nothing more than they appear on surface level. these are ga kinds of interpretations of these scenes. most of them saw a mike sad to be bidding his friends goodbye, you on the other hand, if you're trying to decipher what mike is thinking and what he's about, should probably be seeing something else.

everything you listed applying to both mike and will and definitely not to lucas and dustin (these two especially as way closer in age than like. steve and have way more scenes together) is something you should notice but alas- pretty girl eden was there to mock love at first though. even jonathan doesn't care for that haha i'll have to disagree on that being gay mike proof. if anything it's mike is a dirty little liar monologuing a lie proof.

i'll leave you with this : headcanons are cool, i don't care what you do with them. i hope you're having fun (i truly am) but *i* disagree it's as supported by canon as the gay hc. i, as in me myself and i, and if you disagree with me that is completely fine. you should be and feel free to do whatever you want with mike when you spin him around in your head for fun trying to understand who he is. but i will never not be confused by bi mike, as i think it is quite obvious he is gay.

[cyncerity]

hi everyone! little bit of an update!!

to those of you waiting for the next part in the store shifter au: it’s almost done, i swear.

the rest of this is a lengthy explanation cause y’all know me, i can’t write something short. tldr will be bolded at the bottom if you don’t wanna read all this.

i wanna explain something real quick: in my early years of middle school, i was into creepypasta, which pipelined into Marble Hornets, which pipelined into a ton of other slenderverse series. If you don’t know what that is, it’s an ARG with an emphasis on characters being stalked or hunted by Slenderman. All of them are really really good in their own way and do interesting things with not only Slendy, but adding their own new big bad’s and lore and i’d highly recommend watching one if you haven’t yet. (i may make a separate post about which you should watch based on what kind of content you most enjoy cause i really want to indoctrinate more people into this)

My favorite slenderverse at the time had a very big emphasis on early November, specifically November 11th. So i started to have a little tradition of watching those videos every November 11th even after the hyperfixation had faded just for a bit of nostalgia.

Fast forward to now- it has snowballed to the point where every year for over half a decade now, November 11th rolls around and I am thrown violently headfirst back into my slenderverse phase. I cannot control it. I’ll be like “ok this year i’ll be normal about it, after this long, surely watching one video won’t spiral me again” and it always fucking does. No other hyperfixation i’ve ever had has functioned on a calendar cycle so idk wtf this is. This is the 6th year of this. I cannot escape.

So yeah, per how it’s been since middle school, November-January my main hyperfixation will be slenderverse. It could be shorter, it could be longer, but that’s the general pattern i’ve noticed over the years. After that i’ll pretty much be back to normal.

Don’t get me wrong, i’m not taking a 3 month hiatus or anything. I promise i will do my best to get the store shifter au part out before fucking 2024. But if you’ve sent me an ask recently and i’ve ignored it, i’m genuinely so sorry, but i can’t force myself to work on new stuff right now when mcyt g/t isn’t my main interest. I’ll do my best to get to it eventually when the hyperfixation comes back a bit more, i do read and process and think about every single ask i receive and it always makes my day when i get a new ask, but yeah. For the next few months i’m probably only gonna be working on and posting stuff that’s been in the works, are from asks that we’re given to me like a year ago and already have wips in progress to answer them, or art that i just haven’t given you yet.

on the other hand, if you’re reading this and you like creepypasta or slenderverse stuff, i’ve created what i think is literally my 5th fucking blog! @cynningly <-i’ve been spamming this for like 4 days cause i refuse to be normal about slenderverse stuff, but follow there if you want horror stuff and so far just a bunch of really shitty edits of internet arg sexyman villains. Also yes all of my blogs have to have “cyn” in the name somewhere, that’s how you can tell it’s me lmao

tldr:

my hyperfixations switched up again, im really into slenderverse (slenderman-centric args) at the moment and likely will be till January. This is a cycle that’s been going on for years now. made an alt for it -> @cynningly

I will still be working to post mcyt g/t stuff, but only stuff that’s a wip or has been in the works for a while. to anyone who has sent an ask recently: sorry, but i can’t take on making new stuff when my focus isn’t purely on mcyt rn. I will do my best to get to it eventually and if you’re one of the people who’s sent a story request or ask recently i truly, truly appreciate it. y’all make my day. but, yeah, that’s what’s going on with me lol