#just needed to get this out somewhere & i settled for here because tumblr is tumblr & so it just makes sense

[midnights-wish]

kinda dislike myself for thinking of him so much. it's useless, in a way, 'cause i don't know what he's thinking of me. or if he even does, just in the slightest way. i feel so pathetic. maybe i should just try to stop thinking about him? to kinda stop feeling like this. i felt fine before this but now it's just insecurities over insecurities, it sucks. having a crush sucks. being too much of a coward to make a random move, sucks. overthinking this sucks, as well. i don't want this.

[mysillycomics]

Hi everyone! This is Claire. I am writing to let you all know that we did it. We saved Bailey and Tiger Fluff, and we all live together in an apartment in Illinois, my home state. We really, really did it!!!

You can read our thanks, thoughts, and more under the read more :0)

(note: Oliver also goes by Bailey! She has two names.)

There are many important people on this journey that we would like to specifically thank.

First, all of our friends (especially Peregrine, Sophie, and Jackson) who were there on the day Bailey was evicted, who listened to me and helped me figure out what to do when I felt more lost than I’ve ever been. Without them we wouldn’t have been able to act so quickly and efficiently. Because of them, we were able to formulate a plan.

Speaking of Jackson, he and his partner Cherri need to be thanked once again. Jackson drove all the way from his home, Bailey’s motel, and back to get both her and Tiger to a place to stay while we figured out what to do next. They provided a warm, quiet, and safe place for both of them in a time when something like that was so far away. For the first time in a long time, I knew that Bailey was truly somewhere safe. For that, we will be forever grateful.

While we do not have their names, we would like to thank the staff of the airport and airline who helped make this journey objectively possible. They also made Tiger into a little celebrity on the flight, and everyone, including the pilot, went to greet her and congratulate her for being so brave. She really is the bravest little kitty we know.

Next are my very close friends Elle and Callan, who invited Bailey and Tiger to stay at their house not far from mine while we secured a place of our own. They, like Jackson and Cherri, gave both of them the space to simply be. I was able to visit a couple of times, and being with my favorite people made an extremely difficult time so much better. It made me think “this feeling is what we are fighting for”.

Finally, we’d like to thank you.

To all of you who read and shared our story, you helped us to feel seen and heard and not alone. Reading words of support in the comments, quote retweets, and tumblr tags truly made me feel like we could do this with everyone cheering us on.

To everyone who donated, your generosity this financially possible. As of writing, we received $19,381 from the GoFundMe. We are now able to use the rest of funds that have been tucked away in savings for rent, food, and bills. I cannot overstate how grateful we both are. What you did for us will never leave our hearts.

…

While Bailey and Fluffy were at Elle and Callan’s, we found an apartment. It was small, but perfect. We toured. We applied. And we got it.

And on December 9th, 2023, we moved in and started living together! Our goal, our dream, our driving force for so long was achieved. After three years of long distance, we finally made it.

Our home is small, and has some quirks as all homes do, but it’s ours. The love of my life, the best little cat in the word, and I are all together. We are safe, warm, happy, and loved. The future we fought so hard for us now the present. Forgive me for being long-winded. I just have so much to say about all of this! Sometimes I still can’t believe that we actually did it. But we did, we really did!!!

I’m going to keep the GoFundMe up for a little bit, but once things settle more I will close donations.

Thank you!!!!!!!!! 🧸💕

____

Hey everyone Bailey here, I cannot overstate just how grateful I am to every single one of you and how thankful I am that this journey has been able to come into fruition. It was very scary being in that motel not having a plan or knowing what I was gonna do next while everything was crumbling around me. If it wasn't for Claire and our incredibly kind and caring friends I don't know what I'd do. They helped me press on and get through this with Fluff and we finally did.

Finally we're in a place that brings nothing but peace and comfort, my anxiety has dropped and I'm doing things I've never thought possible and building up strengths I never knew I had, I feel whole in a way that I've never felt before and I'm just, happy.

I am so grateful to have Claire, for years she's been so supportive and comforting and has brought this dream we've had into reality and every day I am so thankful to have her, she is the love of my life and my best friend. The life that her, myself and Fluff now share will forever be together and we can finally begin living. 💚💜

Thank you everyone, thank you to our friends who let Fluff and I into their lives to be able to be safe while we get our bearings, thank you to everyone who said such kind and wonderfully compassionate words, cheering us on as we go, every day I was looking at the community post I made on YT and it was just filled with people being so supportive, and thank you everyone who donated and got us into where we are. We could not have done it without all of you. 🐟 ❤️ 🐟 ❤️

[rallamajoop]

That time Heisenberg stabbed Ethan with a rusty fencepost

Thanks to this one fic project that needed a pornographically detailed list of Ethan’s most memorable injuries, I've spent some time trying to figure out exactly what Heisenberg stabs him with when they first met. Working mostly from a free-camera version from youtube, I settled on calling a metal pipe with a square profile.

Tumblr: I was wrong. The reality is so much worse.

Having cracked the game files and installed my own free-camera mod, I tracked down the original asset for this thing, and, well...

No, really, this is it! Check out those matching cross-bars if you doubt me.

FWIW, it isn’t actually a spear. Those semi-mangled crossbars flag it instead as a spear-headed fence-post. (This may not be a distinction that Ethan would find very comforting after being stabbed with the thing, but there it is, regardless.)

In fact, if you poke around the cemetery area just outside the castle gate, you can even find the fence it presumably came from.

Look in on the cemetery near the church from the lane leading up to the Duke's shop beside it, and this is what you'll see.

It's not a perfect match (in fact, it's even worse viewed from the opposite side, because someone has clearly stuffed up the textures on different sides of the same asset). I'll also note that if you go back to this fence again after meeting Heisenberg, you won’t find any suspicious gaps in it where a post was recently ripped out. So I’m going to just go ahead and assume this particular piece was lying in a pile of surplus scrap in the cellar somewhere, and Heisenberg did not, in fact, drag the thing all the way there from well outside the whole damn building. I mean, at that point, you’re just showing off.

The fence post is, admittedly, pretty hard to get a good look at in the actual game. Unlike all the other crap Heisenberg already has levitating around him in this scene, the fencepost doesn’t appear at all until Heisenberg stabs Ethan with it. It actually seems to emerge at speed from between a couple of barrels at the back. But if you’re enough of a lunatic to play around with the various slow motion/rewind settings that came with the free camera mod, you can get a decent shot of it in flight, cleaning up any remaining doubt that this is the same asset that was used in game.

It even freaking spins in the air as it moves. FTR, yes, it does go in pointy-end first. And the whole fucking spearhead ends up buried in poor Ethan. (Please feel free to insert your own dick-joke here.) Those paying really close attention might even note that the blood on Ethan's shirt is present even before the spear hits him, but that's just going to be virtual-stunt-coordination having a normal one.

I can offer you no similarly definitive insight into why Heisenberg would think stabbing Ethan with this thing was a good idea. I can’t even tell you if he knew for sure that it was Ethan Winters he was talking to at this point (maybe he's just playing dumb, pretending not to recognise him. Or maybe he legit didn't know that Ethan himself had made an appearance until Miranda told him. Sure, he's already got that whole conspiracy board, but finding real pictures of this Ethan-guy is surprisingly hard.) But whether Heis was already testing out Ethan’s ‘interesting body’, or whether he’d just generally assumed that anyone who could survive a full lycan assault on the village wouldn’t be too seriously inconvenienced by a little stabbing, hoo boy was this one way to make a first impression.

I’m not even sure which of these losers is the bigger idiot here: the one who imagined Ethan might still agree to work with him even after inserting a very convincing imitation-spearhead into his intestines, or the one who never thought to seriously question how he keeps shrugging off injuries just as exciting as this one.

They probably deserve each other.

[carmyberzattosjournal]

Entry 15: You Good, Chef?

GIF credit: @carmen-berzattos

Bearblr Promptober Day 15: Free Space aka Carmy Has Girlfriend Brainworms

Summary: Carmy can't stop thinking about his girlfriend (who he calls Darling) being cute in the morning when he left for work, and it's causing so many problems.

Warnings: Swearing, mentioned panic attack (no active panic attack in this one), mention of The Devil (aka Chef David), sleepy bean fem reader who is a trauma surgeon, snuggling Carmy's shirt for comfort, she/her pronouns, fluff, feat. Nat, Syd, Richie.

Notes: All journal entries will be titled as such and tagged with #cb journal.

This is a two-parter. The second part is here.

Thank you for reading. Thank you to @carmenberzattosgf for putting together this prompt list.

Also, if random letters or words are white instead of the colors they should be, that's Tumblr being dumb, I've been fighting it for days.

15 Oct 2024

I just had the hardest fucking day at the restaurant and it’s not even because we were doing badly; it’s because I couldn’t stop fucking thinking of Darling.

She was still sleeping when I left. Curled up into a cute little ball under the comforter, just her hair poking out. I grabbed the blanket in the living room and draped it over her as well to stave off the chill that’d creep in since I wouldn’t be around to be her personal heater, and it, unfortunately, woke her up just enough to start feeling around the bed for me.

“Hi, baby girl,” I whispered. She blinked and squinted at me through the darkness. “I’m heading to work. You can go back to sleep.”

She made a discontented noise and mumbled something.

I leaned in. “Hm?”

“Shirt?”

Something in my chest fluttered. “You want my shirt?”

She nodded, groaned sleepily as she reached for my pillow and dragged it under the blanket. I grabbed my t-shirt off the edge of the hamper and gave it to her. She clumsily draped it over the pillow, wrapped her arms around it, and buried her face in it, letting out a soft, satisfied sigh once she’d settled.

The sight of her nuzzled into my shirt, only dozing off when she could be enveloped by my scent? I didn’t think I was the kind of person who could be fucking feral over something, but I am fucking. Feral. Over it. I don’t know what’s come over me. It’s driving me insane. I can’t stop fucking thinking about it. It’s somehow like an earworm I can’t shake or like an image frozen in time that I can’t stop seeing when I blink, but it’s worse because I can’t fucking listen to a song or look at a stupid photo in a cookbook to get it out of my head! It won’t leave me alone! I was in the middle of vegetable prep—this was super early, Syd had just come in and was putting her apron on—and I swear to God, I froze in place because the thought of Darling nuzzling into my t-shirt took over every fucking particle of my brain. I got that deep, sinking heat of arousal in the pit of my stomach while at work, this is insane, what is going on with me?

“You good, Chef?” Syd asks.

I can’t even remember what I said to her, but it must’ve been good or bad enough that she got straight to her prep. I didn’t even make it through dicing another onion before I had to step out in the back alley to get some cold air on my face. I was shaking. I was fucking shaking. Part of me wanted to call Darling. It was like this itch deep in my brain, somewhere I couldn’t reach, and I wanted to hear her voice. I wanted to hear her call me sweetheart again. I wanted her hands in my hair, on my skin, wanted to taste her mouth, hear her whisper “I love you” in my ear as she unraveled. I wanted her to pull my hair, why did I want her to pull my hair? But she slept in on her days off, and I couldn’t even try to rouse her from the sleep she so desperately needed to keep functioning. It felt selfish. A spark of pain on the back of my neck brought my attention back to the present, and I realized, with mild horror, that I’d dragged my nails across my skin much like she did to my back or chest when she had a particularly good orgasm.

Shit. Fuck. That’s going to be bright red in a few seconds.

I heaved a breath and headed back inside.

“You sure you’re good, Chef?” Syd asked the moment I came back in.

“What’s wrong? Why is he not good?” Nat?

“The fuck are you doing here?” I asked.

She appeared from the office. “Good morning to you too.” Held up a manilla file. “Quarterly tax shit. I need some signatures. Why are you not good?”

“I’m fine. Give.” I held a hand out for the file.

Sug took entirely too long to hand it to me. “She told me ab—”

“I know, she asked me first. Not talking about it.” I flipped through the papers for all the yellow flags marking where I needed to sign or initial.

“You really should talk—”

“I’m scheduled for a psychological evaluation at University Hospital, and they’ll probably make a referral to trauma therapy.”

“Should I be hearing this?” Syd asked.

Sug. “I don’t know?”

Me. “Yeah, it’s fine.”

Sug drew in a breath to say something.

“I’ve already been approved for the financial assistance to reduce the cost of healthcare.” I passed the file back to her. Got back to the onions.

She blinked at me. Did she forget I was her brother?

“That-that was quick.”

I nodded. “She’s almost as quick as you.”

Syd. “She convinced you to go to therapy?”

“I didn’t need much convincing.”

She chuckled. “In what universe…?”

“The one where I had such a bad panic attack that both of us were convinced that I was dying. No, I’m not gonna field questions about it, get back to work.”

Syd’s smile slid off her face. “I wasn’t going to ask!”

“I mean Sug.”

Sugar scoffed. “I didn’t say anything!”

“You were about to.”

Sug crossed her arms. “You’re in asshole mode today, I see.”

“When am I not?”

“When you’re with your girlfriend,” Syd spat. She didn’t need to say it with an attitude. Or maybe she did, honestly; Syd’s right more often than she’s wrong. And she still had the right to be bitter about shit I refused to apologize for. This is easy to say now, at the eleventh hour while I write this down, but it was impossible to say when standing in that kitchen on that day, 2 hours into having Darling brainworms eating holes in my gray matter. Maybe it was because I felt so off, but I fired back with something I definitely shouldn’t’ve said.

Or maybe I should’ve. It got me to say the thing I should’ve said to her months ago.

Oh, look, God being a sadist again. Who would’ve thought?

“The girlfriend you got annoyed with and made feel unwelcomed, remember?”

Sydney’s face contorted into a grimace. “Excuse me, you were shirking your responsibilities here and leaving me to do it all myself after telling me you had my back.”

Sugar had a much more reasonable, “Where the fuck did that come from?”

“Sydney, I couldn’t fucking breathe,” I groaned.

Her face went sober again. It always scares me when that happens.

Words I needed to explain away that blank face refused to leave my throat.

I thought, at that time, that what I needed to do was get deeper into the work, just like I did in New York. Just like I did when Mikey pushed me out of The Beef. That the agony closing in from all directions could be staved off by putting my head down and doing the thing I wanted to do at all—opening my own restaurant—and submerging myself in the production of critical acclaim after critical acclaim because as the awards and accolades stacked up, I could use them as ammunition against The Devil’s voice in my head. Against my own voice. Against the voices of a thousand nameless, faceless people who, in one way or another—often in dozens of ways—crushed any sense of my self-worth under their boot-heels because their best defense against their own cruel internal critics happened to be a really good offense. I fashioned myself into a mosaic of shattered glass to go back to Mikey, to throw reams of approval at him (and at ma and at Sugar—because they were also caught in the backdraft, such is the curse of being a fucking Berzatto), but there was one last boot heel for me to be crushed under, and it happened to be at the end of a gun barrel on State Street Bridge.

Because God’s a sadist, remember?

“I need you to explain that, Carmy,” Syd said.

But you can submerge yourself too deep. And you can start to drown. And when you start to drown, you cling to whatever you can see. Fuck a plan, I didn’t even know what to do to stop being waterboarded by the hell of my own making, and I didn’t know there was a way out of the water, so yes, Syd, yes, I fucking bailed on you and I fucking left you to do it all yourself and I fucked up at every opportunity and I forgot to fucking call the fridge guy but Syd, you have to understand.

Then Sugar, in her small voice. “Yes, please explain, Bear.”

I couldn’t. Fucking. Breathe.

“I don’t have the words to,” I mumbled.

Nat put her hands on my shoulders, leaned down into my view. Half-whispered, “Are you okay?”

I told her to ask me tomorrow.

Mercifully, neither of them pestered me about it and let me get back to prep without disturbing me.

…..

Early in the afternoon, Richie came in and noticed the scratches. What with him being a lanky fuck and all.

“Good morning, everyone—Yo, did your girl get you last night?” He chuckled. Tugged at the back of my apron.

“Nope, my anxiety did this morning, thank you for that.”

He didn’t say another word either.

As we got closer to service, it got worse. Her smile, the scent of her shampoo, her fingernails, painted in oxblood, dragging down my forearm, the soft, wet heat between her thighs, her giggle, her hand ghosting up my abdomen to then press ice to my chest—it kept invading every sense. I could hear, feel, smell, touch, and taste her, I could fucking taste her, and I kept fucking up my counts, I lost track of time twice and Syd had to call out time to service. I grabbed a quart of ice and stepped out again, trying to recompress. Grabbed a fistful of ice cubes and squeezed them.

“Chef, you’re not okay.” Syd again. She followed me.

I drew in a sharp breath to retort that I was fine, but the words got caught in my throat. I could hear Darling talking to me. Breathe, sweetheart. Breathe, baby... That’s it. There you go… Let’s try to recover. I huffed. Shrugged.

“No. No, Syd, I’m not.”

“Do you need to step out?”

No, I don’t, fuck you. “I-I should probably step out, shouldn’t I?”

“That is the agreement we made, yeah. I’m not doing a dinner service with you wired to the gills.”

I nodded. My hand was going numb from the ice.

I told you, God’s a fucking sadist.

(To Be Continued)

[thefallennightmare]

Just Pretend-thirteen

*gif created by me. feel free to use, simply give credit*

Parings: Noah Sebastian x Musician! Reader

Warnings/Tropes: language, angst, fluff, smut, star-crossed lovers, right person/wrong time, cheating, talks of mental abuse.

Summary: “I can wait for years, heaven knows I’m not getting over you.” A story about two star-crossed lovers, that always find their way back because their souls are entwined. The universe desperately attempts to bring them together, no matter what the cost.

Authors Note: ENJOY!

Tags: @ozwriterchick @waake-meee-up @notingridslurkaccount @niicoleleigh @sammyjoeee @xxrainstorm @dominuslunae @notmaddihealy @malice-ov-mercy @crimson-calligraphyx @iknownothingpeople @writethrough @thebadchic @blackveilomens Claudia on Tumblr @tobe-written @blacksoul-27 @loeytuan98 @loverofagoodbeard @comfortcharactercraze @lma1986 @plutonikchaos1 @spicywhenspeaking @lyschko666 @somewhere-diamond @hi-fancy-seeing-you-here @koskeepsake @bngurngheart

READER

The sun’s warms rays blasted through the large window and warmed my back as I snuggled deeper into the bed, holding the sheet closer to my bare chest. A familiar scent filled my senses while a familiar heartbeat pounded against my cheek as I slowly woke, realizing I was lying on a chest. A tattoo of flowers and a portrait of a skeleton and women were the first thing I saw once the sleep haze faded. The chest rose and fell with each deep breath it took. Arms wrapped around me, keeping me locked in place; those arms were lanky but building muscle, slowly but surely.

I looked up at his sleeping face, feeling calm and settled for the first time in a very long time.

Opening one eye, he grinned then pulled me in closer to leave soft, pepper like kisses across my forehead, cheeks, nose, and lastly lips; my giggles echoing throughout my bedroom. The thin sheet laid loosely around our naked, tangled forms, and he hooked my leg over his waist.

“This was the only thing I wanted to wake up to.” He said, his voice deep and husky with sleep.

“I’m glad you stayed till morning, Noah.” I breathed across his lips as I propped myself up to kiss him. I

He brushed away my sleep tousled hair to hook his fingers behind my neck, closing the distance.

My eyes snapped open as my phone rang loudly, my seven a.m alarm shocking me to my bones, and I rolled over in the empty side of the bed to silence it. I groaned into the pillow, wanting so desperately to slip back into the dream. It felt so real to have Noah in bed with me, his bare skin against mine. It brought back memories of our night together in that hotel room and my pussy clenched with the need to feel that same release.

Ignoring it, I checked my phone, like I did every morning, and sucked in a breath when I saw a new text from Noah; mind immediately going back to the dream. After our workout, we went our separate ways, and I was busy last night with my art class and writing that I never realized he texted me around eleven in the evening last night.

“Oh, shit,” I sat up straight in bed when the new selfie stared back at me.

It was nice seeing you again, angel. I had fun tonight.

I analyzed the fuck out of that picture. His hair was messy, pouty lips, and his dark hooded eyes gazed down at me. His cheeks were flushed with a red hue and it could have been my already aroused state, but I knew what he did before sending this picture. It was clear.

“Fuck it,” I sighed while tossing my phone on the other end of the bed to lean over the side of it, pulling out the small box underneath my bed.

I rummaged through a variety of different toys until eventually deciding on my favorite. Double checking to make sure the door was closed, I shimmed out of my shorts and panties to lay straight back on the bed. My breathing was labored as my heart raced with the image of Noah’s selfie and my dream. All of my senses were heightened as I pressed the pink vibrator against my clit, the vibrations sending shockwaves throughout my entire body.

I shut my eyes and worked; I saw Noah so clearly as I continued to let my mind wander. I kept shifting back to that night we shared, but also to something new. I fantasized Noah was in bed with me again.

“Turn over” he commands, moving out the way to give me space.

I do, quickly, and Noah reached down to pull the sheet completely off me, watching me with starving eyes the whole time. He hovered over me as he pushed my legs apart to lean down and kiss between my breasts, and slowly makes his way down. As I continued to fantasize, all I could see was him, and my vibrator was going off in different speeds; I imagined I might just die then and there.

I see him smile, it almost feels so real-too real-into my thigh, and he looks up to me through lashes.

“Say it.” he demanded.

“Say what?” My voice was wrecked, breathless, as my orgasm built low in my belly.

Noah’s teeth grazed the inside of my thigh. “Say it angel, say what you want from me.”

“I want you to make me cum. Please, I need it.”

A soft kiss to the inside of my thigh, across the tattoo of the Greek Gods. “Always, angel.”

Noah grinned, his eyes locking with mine as he kept contact, tilting his head down and licking my clit softly.

Some ungodly noise came out of me as continued to see him. My brain was so fuzzy, the vibrator must have been going off for atleast 10 minutes, I couldn’t stop. I saw his inches of hair, I could almost feel it tickle my thighs and could feel the warm heat of his mouth licking, sucking, biting.

“Oh, fuck Noah!” I puffed out. I didn’t mean to say it so vocally.

Fuck, Malcolm and Chase; if they were awake, they probably heard. But I didn’t care, I was so close. My knees shook and back arched up off the bed as my mouth fell open.

I took my free hand and scrunched it into a fist, almost like I was grasping his imaginary hair. I imagined him looking up at me, mouth over my clit with dark brown eyes gazing up at me. Rings over his fingers as his hand pressed down on my stomach to keep me in place. That sight did it for me just at the right time my vibrator send me tipping over the edge.

“Noah. Noah. NOAH!” I yelled while running a hand over my face, to bit into my palm.

Realizing how overstimulated I was, I noticed I came all over my sheets.

“Holy shit,” I breathed. “Whatever this is, it has to be chemicals that make me cling to you.”

Twenty minutes later, I cleaned myself up and dressed in another pair of lounge day clothes before stalking down the long hallway towards the living room where Chase and Malcolm were nursing their coffees.

“Do you guys want to hear this song I’ve been working on?” I asked while walking over to the attached kitchen to pour myself some coffee.

Malcolm smirked. “I think we already did.”

I raised a brow. “How? I just came up with it.”

“Noah, Noah, Noah,” Chase mocked with a high-pitched voice.

The blood drained from my face as I stared at them, mouth agape. I didn’t think I was that loud.

Right?

“Fuck you,” I pushed his shoulder as I stood behind the couch.

Chase ignored me and continued to mock Noah’s name in my voice.

“Right there, yes Noah!” Malcolm teased now.

“SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP!” I grabbed a pillow off the couch and smacked both of them behind their heads.

READER

Sitting on my bed with my laptop perched on my lap, my fingers worked hastily as they typed away the new song that kept replaying in my mind.

I know it's chemicals that make me cling to you And I need a miracle to get away from you I know it's chemicals and I need a miracle And I'm not spiritual But please stay 'Cause I think you're a saint and I think you're an angel.

I was so engrossed in the writing aspect that I almost didn’t realize the buzzing from my phone right next to me.

2:30.

“Shit,” I cursed while setting my laptop aside so I could answer my phone, my heart hammering hard in my chest.

It happened every day knowing what I was about to see.

Noah’s bright smile came through the screen before the richness of his voice danced on my ears.

“Hi,” he greeted.

“Hey yourself,” I smirked when I realized he was shirtless. “Noah, you realize it’s on 45 degrees outside, right? Why aren’t you wearing a shirt?”

He taped a thumb over his chest while raising a brow at me. “My body runs hot so I’m more comfortable without a shirt. Does it bother you?”

Quite the opposite, actually.

The suggestive tone in his voice told me everything I needed to know about his motives. With the selfie he sent me last night and now this? Noah wanted to tease me, well two can play at that game.

“I understand that. Malcolm has the heat set to 72 and I’m dying,” I sighed while unzipping my sweater, tossing it onto the floor.

The strap of my tank top slid down my shoulder, exposing the skin of my collarbone, and I saw the way Noah’s eyes darkened, tongue darting out to wet his lips. Even through the phone, the tension was thick and when I thought back to what happened this morning, my skin set ablaze.

I cleared my throat. “So, uh. How’s your day been?”

“Good,” Noah shifted on his bed, most likely to get comfortable. “I just got back from the studio a bit ago. Might take a nap or stream. I haven’t decided yet.”

I pulled a pillow from behind me to lie down on my stomach, propping myself up on it. “How’s it going? The writing?”

The corner of his lips curled up. “Really good. How about you?”

I turned my phone towards my laptop briefly before setting it back to my face. “My mind is all over the place. I think I’m writing three different songs at once.”

Noah chuckled before a serious expression crossed his features. “How have you been, really? I know the last few months haven’t been easy for either of us, and I just-I just want to make sure you’re good, that, we’re good.”

“Can I be honest?” I bit my lip.

“With me, angel? Always.”

I let out a deep, steady breath, ready to fill Noah in on a part of me; one that I was worried for him to find out.

“I didn’t do well for a little. I was in a really dark place that Chase and Malcolm were afraid they wouldn’t be able to pull me out of. I kept playing Eiley on repeat.”

Noah stiffened. “I had Sympathy on repeat.”

“You did?” I asked with scrunched brows.

“Yeah. I even talked with Keaton. He-uh-gave me a great sign.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat, not wanting to tell him that Keaton gave me a sign as well.

“Being able to talk to you, to see you, has lifted a huge weight off My shoulders, I didn’t realize how hard it would be to not even send you a dumb meme. I’m-.” I stammered over my next few words. “I’m glad we’ve been able to start over. That means so much.”

I could have gone on and on, but was too afraid. I didn’t want him to jump to conclusions and didn’t want him to know why I was holding back; not yet atleast. I needed his hand on my shoulder atleast for now, until from what the dark side of my mind believed, Noah would pull away. I couldn’t risk losing him.

Not again.

“Well, I’m happy to agree with you. Things haven’t been easy for me, typically I would turn heel. But having you in my life makes me at ease. So I’m glad too. It means a lot to me, as well.”

We gazed at each other with our own dopey smiles for what felt like hours but in reality, was less than a minute until Noah cleared his throat while scratching his face.

“Do you want to meet up for brunch Tuesday? Bottomless mimosas?”

My heart fluttered at the excitement in his voice.

“Sounds great,” I smiled but then cursed. “Shit. Tuesday? Ah, I can’t, I have an appointment that day. Rain check? Cause we need to get mimosas. The orange juice Malcom’s been buying lately isn’t my standard.”

“Of course, anytime.”

Noah wanted to ask about the appointment, I saw it all over his face. He didn’t-he respected my boundaries.

“I like our little 2:30 pm routine,” I admitted.

“Me too, angel, me too,” his eyes sparkled.

READER

“Thank you for telling me your story, Y/N. I imagine it’s a lot to process within a short amount of time. Now that it’s laid out in front of us today, how does it make you feel? Are you sad?”

I stared at the women sitting across from me, my knee bouncing with anticipation? Nerves? I wasn’t sure. I had been rambling on the last ten minutes and wanted her to give me an inclination about how she was feeling.

“I’m not sad. Not like I was mere weeks ago.” I explained to her, “But, somehow I can’t help crying. Although things happened quickly, I can’t help but continue to feel guilt yet also ambivalent.”

The therapist, Dr. Poulos, sat straighter in her chair. “Okay. Let’s dig a little deeper. You chose the word ambivalence. That suggests strong feelings-in opposition.”

I played with the rings on my fingers, keeping my gaze on anything but her face. “I’m not good enough for him or anyone else and there’s a lot of weight I carry for that. Trey explained that to me enough, not to mention the other traumas I probably have hidden within me. I have guilt.”

“Why do you feel guilty? Why would it warrant guilt? You said yourself he forgave you, quickly at that. Does that concern you? Do you still feel as if you can’t be honest with him or honest with yourself?”

Fuck, she kept pounding out those questions.

I paused and stared at the plant she had on the left side of her dresser. A bit fuzzy because of the connection between phone lines.

“Y/N,” her voice snapped me out of my deep thoughts.

I sighed and began. “When I first got my diagnosis, it didn’t sound serious, but after a while it became more ominous than other people’s. I imagined my character as desolate as a shirt that had been manufactured incorrectly and was therefore useless.”

She tilted her head and smiled at me, gently. “You’re valid for feeling those things, it’s easy to look at your flaws and say, alright, this isn’t worth the trouble. It’s easy to believe you’re incapable of getting the love you deserve. However, I think deep down you don’t trust yourself, as much as you don’t trust anyone else. I think you’ve been running with nowhere to go.”

She got me there.

I didn’t appreciate the call out effect although I suppose I needed to hear it. But that didn’t stop me from getting defensive.

“Running from what?” I wondered while crossing one leg over the other.

“Running from a love you believe you don’t deserve, seems like Noah hasn’t done anything to misplace your trust in him.”

“Thanks, I already know that- just make me feel worse, I guess.” I shrugged.

“Y/n it’s not about feeling worse, it’s about the fact you’re a runner. You sabotaged the things you love the most. Camouflaging being self composed.”

I was numb in the chest; I wanted to close the blinds. I felt like it split me into so many parts. It was never my intention to run from him, I just couldn’t drag him down. Due to my continuation of silence Dr. Poulos kept talking.

“I’m going to be completely honest with the way I perceive everything.”

I snorted. “You haven’t already?”

“You go on the road one more time and leave your flaws at home. If you go into this relationship, you don’t leave the trauma from the other behind. You don’t communicate properly due to fear. It seems like Noah stopped you dead in your tracks, he’s a mirror almost, he sees you from the inside and that scares the hell out of you doesn’t it?”

I stopped her right then. “I wouldn’t say that, I just don’t want to hurt him more than I have or myself.”

I was stubborn as a mule. I wasn’t admitting shit. However, it seemed like Dr. Poulos already knew.

“That’s understandable, Y/N. However, I would say that just your mannerisms alone tell me you’re harboring such deep feelings but not allowing yourself to feel them due to fear of rejection, unhappiness-.”

With her hesitation, I felt uncomfortable yet also strangely calm. It felt like my guts were being ripped open and placed in front of me. Forcing me to look at them first hand.

“I think you need a rest.”

“Okay, I’ll go home and take a nap,” I retorted with a smart smirk.

“No no,” she chuckled. “A genuine rest! The bans are better with going out of the country right now. I think it would be good for you to go see your father. Talk to him, get another perspective. A father is a daughter’s first introduction to the shadow of men, and it seems like you have a good relationship. Communicate with him, enjoy yourself for a little while. When you come home, we’ll reevaluate things and see how you feel from there.”

I had to admit, going to see my dad had been on my mind heavily the last few weeks. I truly missed him and felt that some time away from everything would help ease the dark thoughts that continued to linger at the back of my mind.

“So, do Tuesday’s work for you?” Dr. Poulos spoke while opening up her schedule book.

“Yeah. But if we can keep it in the mornings? I already have something scheduled at 2:30 I can’t miss.”

She smiled. “Of course.”

READER

“Fuck, angel. I can’t believe you’re going to Japan without me,” Noah pouted out his bottom lip in a playful sadness.

I giggled while holding the phone as I sat on the couch in the living room. It was our typical 2:30 FaceTime call, and I took it in the living room with Chase and Malcolm, who were playing a video game.

“I’m so excited. When I brought up the idea to my dad, he immediately bought me a plane ticket and already is planning our week together. There’s so many different places he wants to take me. I don’t think he expected Chase and Malcolm to tag along but nonetheless, he’s happy.”

“I’m happy for you. It will be good for you, mentally, to take a break. You deserve it.”

"Which reminds me; do you think you or one of the guys could come check on Salem for me? Just to make sure he has food and water while we're gone?" I bit my lip, hoping the action would make Noah agree.

He licked his lips, voice turning dark. "Yeah, of course. We'll take care of him."

I rested my chin on my palm as I propped my elbow on the back of the couch. “I’ll have to cancel our gym sessions and might miss a few Facetime calls.”

He placed a hand over his chest, faux betrayal on the soft features of his face. “How will I ever go on?”

Chase snorted and pushed his face into the camera of my phone. “Dude, we’ll miss you too. No need to cry over us, though.”

Noah glared while flipping them off.

For once, Noah was actually wearing clothes, admittedly much to my dismay, a read sweater. He sat at his desk with his headphones hanging loosely around his neck as he worked on a Rubik’s cube. While I loved our daily FaceTime calls, there was this deep lingering feeling that it would only hurt in the end when it stopped.

Not if it had to. When it had to because like everything else in my life, good things never lasted long.

I pushed Chase back on his end of the couch. “I hate those things.”

Noah motioned towards the cube in his hands, and I nodded. “I never could get them right. I’d get aggravated so fast and toss it in the garbage.”

“Take’s patience, angel. I have a lot of it.”

I blinked, almost as if I had been slapped at hearing his words; memories from that night crawling back to my subconscious.

“I’m known for having a lot of fucking patience. I will wait."

“Angel?”

Noah’s concerned voice snapped me out of my haze, and I hummed. “Did you say something?”

“When’s your flight?” He asked.

“Sunday.”

“That’s in two days,” Noah’s shoulders fell.

I somberly nodded. “I know. Like I said, my dad’s excited to see me.”

With the look on his face, I knew Noah wanted to see me one more time before leaving but he wouldn’t come out right and say it. Instead, he changed the subject slightly.

“What about you?” He clicked something on the keyboard of his computer, eyes only leaving the phone for a few seconds before giving his attention once again. “Are you excited?”

A large grin pulled at my lips while I shifted my position on the couch, now facing the television, Malcolm winning in whatever game him and Chase were playing.

“I haven’t been in so long, I have this dream-,” the words died on my tongue, not wanting to go into it with Noah.

I already thought it was silly. I didn’t need Noah to think that as well.

“Dream about what?” He wondered.

“Nothing, it’s way to girly, way to out there. You don’t want to hear that shit,” I laughed while casting my eyes away from the screen.

“Well, excuse me then. Just pretend I’m your girliest friend,” Noah changed the pitch of his voice to be higher. “Come on; I want to know. Your dreams are important, to me.”

I broke out in laughter “You’re an idiot Noah Sebastian.”

“I’m cool with that, angel,” he shrugged. “Tell me!”

With a hesitant sigh, I nodded. “Japan is just such an important place to me, for several reasons. I have this little fantasy that I’d run off and get married there. It’s so peaceful and quiet with my closet friends and family. One and done romance type shit.”

Noah stiffened while scratching his chin.

“What? I freak you out, girlfriend?” I joked with a teasing smirk.

He chuckled nervously. “No. I- uh, who’s the groom?”

“I don’t know, never got that far. It’s always been the small child in me’s dream.”

Why the fuck would you bring up marriage, you idiot! His face went white, and he changed the subject, clearly uncomfortable. What the fuck is wrong with you?

“Hmm.” Noah adjusted the headphones on his head. “Well, it’s going to be a lot of fun seeing your dad. I also have a list of shit I’d like for you to find me, please.”

“Okay, hang on let me get a pen,” I giggled while rolling off the couch to head into my room where I knew one was.

READER

“Y/N, dear, have you seen my-?”

I smiled while holding up my dad's wallet as he patted down every pocket of his jacket and pants. “Wallet?”

He pressed a kiss to the side of my head as he took the wallet, sticking it in his back pocket. “I’m almost ready to go. I’m so excited to show you guys the local market. I get all of my mochi’s from there.”

My heart skidded to a rapid pace, an image of Noah popping in my mind.

Chase walked out of the guest bedroom with Malcolm following close behind, tying his long hair back into a bun. “We really appreciate you letting us stay with you, Mr. Y/L/N.”

My dad waved Chase off. “You two have become like sons to me and everything you did to help, Y/N. It means a lot.”

I wrapped my arms around my dad, letting the familiar comfort and warmth of his presence radiate around me. It’s been years since I seen him but from the second he picked us up from the airport a few hours ago, my dad and I picked up right where we left off. The only difference were the wrinkles next to his eyes and the graying hair.

Just as I was about to open my lips to speak, my phone buzzed in my hand. My dad noticed and peered down at the screen with confused eyes.

“Mochi? You have your own mochi delivery service? Who’s the guy in the picture?”

Embarrassment filled me as my cheeks reddened with undeniable heat. Malcolm looked at the watch on his wrist and whistled low.

“Even with the time difference, Noah is spot on with their FaceTime calls,” he said.

Chase raised a finger. “Wait, is his contact name Mochi?”

“Noah, why is that name familiar?” My dad rubbed his chin. “Oh, he’s the guy that filled in no your last tour.”

“Yep,” I said popping the ‘P’.

“Does he have braids in that picture?” Malcolm tried to reach for my phone, that kept buzzing from the call, but I slipped away from him.

Now a few feet away from them, I answered the call with a small smile. Noah was bundled up in a variety of blankets, the orange glow of his neon lights shining from behind his bed.

“Hey, it’s kind of early there, no?” I said.

He yawned while rubbing his eyes. “7:30 in the morning. But it’s 2:30 your time, and I wanted to make sure you landed safely.”

I couldn’t ignore the way my heart fluttered with the concern in his voice and even though it was early morning in Los Angeles, he still made our 2:3o phone call; no matter how exhausted he looked.

“Did you set an alarm?” I questioned.

“Yep, even googled the time difference so I knew when to wake up.”

“Wow,” I stuttered. “You really-uh-you didn’t have to wake up so early just for our phone call, Noah.”

“Angel,” he readjusted his position in bed to lay one hand under his cheek. “I’d stop whatever I’m doing for these phone calls. They mean a lot to me.”

I swallowed the happy tears that burned in my throat. “Me too.”

“Mochi!” Malcolm popped up from behind me to make his face appear on the screen.

Noah rolled his eyes. “Fuck off, Malcolm.”

“Oh, Mochi. We miss you! Do you miss us?” Chase now appeared on the other side of me.

“I fucking hate you guys,” Noah sighed while pinching his eyes.

Pushing them away from me, I stepped into a quieter area of my dad's apartment. “Sorry. They say the contact name and the picture of you in the braids.”

Something unreadable flashed in Noah’s eyes but I couldn’t read into it; it was gone that quickly.

“My contact name in your phone is Mochi?” He asked.

I shrugged. “I bet mine is Angel.”

His silence was the answer I needed.

“You know,” Noah began. “I miss you already and proud of you, angel.”

“Proud of what?” I raised a brow while leaning against the wall with my shoulder.

“Doing something for you, not holding back.”

My heart continued to beat at a rapid pace while the butterflies burned low in my stomach. “Thank you, Mochi, that means a lot to me. Coming from you, truly.”

“Always angel,” He yawned with a smile. “Anyway, I know you’re busy so I won’t keep you. But maybe-uh-when you’re back we can go out.”

“Go out?” I said the two words carefully, making sure I heard him correctly. The pounding in my ears made it difficult.

“Like hang after our class or something.”

If he was nervous to ask me that, Noah gave no indication. He was his typical suave self; with messy bed head, tired eyes, and deep voice laced with exhaustion. The entire sight made my core burn with desire and I had to clench my thighs together.

“I’d love that, Noah,” I finally said after a few beats of silence.

“Alright cool,” he grinned.

“Cool.”

Even though now, we stayed so far from each other, I’d keep him in my mind, until eventually our lonely limbs connected again.

[asterythm]

on the ending of in stars and time:

an essay from someone who couldn’t sit with it at first, & a love letter to the fic that brought me here anyway. (…spoiler warning for in stars and time, naturally, but you knew that!)

if siffrin isat has taught me one thing it's that vulnerability is cool, actually, and being forthcoming and generous with love when there is love to be shared is how the coolest kids do it.

so. hello isat nation of tumblr dot com. i'm here because even after cutting out several chunks to shorten this significantly, i busted through the ao3 comment section character limit and still had more to say, so i needed somewhere to put it all that would let me go longer.

i’m pretty sure this post is for, like, three people, one of whom is me. but look, it’s been moved here to the webbed site so if you wanna read it anyway i won’t stop you!

=====

i think what it is, ultimately, is this: the ISAT canon ending was beautiful. it was an objectively well-written ending with so much love and hope and thematic satisfaction.

it also left me, for a period, with a deep and unshakeable sense of dread.

:)!!!!

now enter @faedemon's "None Forward & Two, Two, Two Steps Back" (hiya, fancy seeing you here), a two-chapter alt act 5 in which siffrin finds a New, Worse way to break the loops.

despite being, as mentioned, a notably worse outcome for everyone involved, this alt end managed to cut straight to the heart of that dread and settle it — and not in the sense of "oh, i like this alt ending better", or “oh, the canon ending looks better in comparison against this worse alt ending”, so much as "oh, thanks to this alt ending i am finally able to sit in a place where it no longer feels like the canon ending, as a beautiful outcome which felt impossibly lucky to get, is the only outcome in which life can go on — and my ability to accept it, and the game as a whole, is elevated for it."

which!! i mean!! i don’t know that that’s exactly what you set out to do; None Forward is explicitly a tragedy!! and one, as your tags say, written because the canon ending didn't ring true for you.

but I realized that the thing that was stopping me from enjoying ISAT’s canon ending was that ugly hard core that was still so, so scared after the canon ending of every way we (that is, siffrin + i as the player moving in that incredible ludonarrative lockstep with him, holy moly the harmony in this game) had not yet grown to earn it. 

=====

(I’ll take a sec here under the cut to say that when I played ISAT, and then for much of the month that followed, my main reason for engaging with it and its related content at all was that it was a piece of media that came fervently recommended by my incredibly dear friend @iconocat , who it had massively, violently impacted and whose media recommendations in general I trust more than anything.

so i played ISAT, and it was incredible. but even though it's a piece of media that just about hit on every point on my list of Things That Set My Brain On Fire, it failed somehow to. well. set me on fire — at least to the extent I was expecting it to. I still enjoyed myself in the few weeks afterwards of running through fan content and intentionally plunging myself into media analysis, but I was never convinced that I would be engaging with ISAT to the extent I was if it wasn't for the sake of trying to intentionally hack my brain to the point where I could share with my friend something so important to her at the same level of genuine investment. 

I’m telling you all this because, legitimately the same night I posted “nothing but a dull ache” (ie, if you're not charlie faedemon and are somehow caring to read this anyway, the epilogue oneshot I started feverishly writing the morning after reading None Forward), I realized through my rambling in my friend’s discord dms that reading None Forward was the moment the fire finally caught. I spent a month burying myself in ISAT content and asking myself “Is this natural yet?”. after None Forward, the answer to that question finally became a sure, wholehearted yes.)

=====

so anyway, back to the essay.

don't get me wrong. it's really, really nice, to read a story where the moral is less “you should have asked for help", and more “there are people who will unselfishly give the gift of a love that saves even when you cannot save yourself".

but that whole ending also was only able to happen because 1. they broke in a way no one should ever have to break, and 2. everyone involved got lucky.

which, in media, happens all the time!! it is not inherently dissatisfying for a narrative to wrap by saving you with luck and love in the nick of time!! in fact it should be incredibly satisfying, after the unambiguously-negative downward spiral into Director Siffrin who had begun to learn what to say and do to make his family behave exactly the way he needs them to, for a stroke of unpredictable luck brought about by factors entirely out of his control to finally be what sets him free.

but like... I think it's because the story is set in a situation where it's no longer true that luck and randomness is a factor by which anything significant can change.

we're hammered over the head with it: until and unless you do something to alter the course of events, they will not be altered. when you are the only dynamic element the world is reacting to in an otherwise looping course of events, you don't get to rely, anymore, on the idea that at any moment something could happen to save you. you have to assume that nothing will happen unless you make it.

and siffrin?? siffrin's literal motto was "stick to the script"!! they spend the loops with a mouth that kept closing tighter and tighter and tighter until i got to act 5 and watched them implode. and then I’m saved, and I know I haven't earned this. I get to the end and I'm still not telling them anything!! I wasn't supposed to get the good ending!! but I get away with it anyway with open arms and acceptance and unconditional love, and it's. kind of nauseating?

how am I ever supposed to learn and grow, if I didn't manage to change my behaviour even then under the threat of Eternal Looping Torment, and still got the good ending anyway? how can I prove there was an alternative way I could have broken free if things hadn't turned out so lucky in that one terrible act 5 loop?

I can't. and that's terrifying.

(aside: I’m speaking in the first person here to emphasize that the thing that got in my way is not because I don't believe siffrin is deserving of this love — quite the opposite, I think the driving force behind the good ending is that siffrin went scorched earth and saw he was loved anyway — but because this is a game designed to frequently encourage the player to deeply feel what siffrin is feeling throughout its course and. well. as a thing to happen to a fictional character it's beautiful. as a takeaway for the player, it's... harder.)

and that's where None Forward comes in. (i’ve already written thousands of words in comments and epilogue fic declaring my love by now, but i mean. im hoping you won’t mind just a liiiittle more.)

None Forward shows a devastatingly written, all-too-believable version of what might have happened if siffrin didn't get lucky, and the loops continued, and they kept clinging to the script and refusing to Look At It and successfully stagnating and stagnating and stagnating as they were so determined to do. and it's bad, it's worse, it's way way worse — but there's no reliance on outside factors. it comes completely from within siffrin and loop, the only dynamic pieces in the world, finally breaking out.

it was the terrible, nightmarish unfairness of the loops brought to their natural, just-south-of-inevitable conclusion.

and yes, it's a terrible, unfair conclusion, but the loop still breaks.

in a roundabout way, it... gives me so much hope. if the outside factors were different, if the stars did not align just right to allow siffrin's family to get there on time to save them, if siffrin never learned to open their mouth, which by all means seems like the likeliest course of events... they'd still get out. worse for wear, and separated by a gap unbridgeable, but out.

there is a future. there is freedom.

=====

to speak more specifically on dull ache, if you'll forgive the indulgence, just since this was originally meant to be in a reply to the author in my own comments section:

I think I so desperately needed to write it with a focus on the family siffrin left behind because I wanted to prove, if just for myself, that in that barely-dodged alternative there still could be a future for everyone. (isabeau's just happened to be the voice in which dull ache came to me, but the point was to create an epilogue for all four.)

for the rest of the family, who was not quite so deeply ravaged but was still left in a bad way at the end of None Forward, and for whom randomness is not pretty much unequivocally good just by virtue of being better than the alternative like it is for siffrin and loop (more on that in a sec), I could see it mattering more to set specific pieces up precisely, and I could actually imagine the pieces I could set up that could have a meaningful impact in the immediate future.

so. y’know. I set them, in the way I happened to want to. granted, with some extra... divine indulgence, but siffrin's departure from their family's perspective at the end of None Forward was definitely Wrong but not so obviously wrong that I could believe that without it they wouldn't otherwise either (a) go hunting him down to force out the truth, which felt Worse, or (b) just "accept" that it was as simple as Siffrin not actually caring about them/brushing them off and thus intentionally fade him into the distance in their minds to deal with it. which felt like the WORST POSSIBLE THING.

you'd think it might make more sense to have done this for siffrin and loop, instead. they're arguably the ones who need it most, after all, so why not build them up from rock bottom as a sweeping show of "things get better"?

but... i think it doesn't need to be written to have faith that it will happen: the very fact that Siffrin is about to set out on a new journey in a reality where everything is a dynamic player just. immediately gives me hope all by itself. random lucky things that save you are so much more believable and wonderful when random lucky things in general are happening all the time, and you have all the time in the world for them to happen.

and anyway, I don't think this is the kind of future you’d write satisfyingly as a sequence of events at all. to heal from this is something that will take an incredible amount of time and nonlinear progress. 

until one day, through a series of disconnected small quiet gloriously-random lived experiences, without knowing when it happened or being able to trace it back, you realize, oh —

somewhere along the way, you came to know how to live again.

[cryinonthebusdyinlittlewuss]

When you're thinking royalty/knight with Timkon (as I'm sure we all do) your instinct might be Royalty Tim and Knight Kon because Tim's very princely and Kon is a rowdy boy. Just based off vibes and character dynamics it makes sense.

However

I think that having Tim as the knight and Kon as a bastard prince is BETTER. So here's my pitch for an AU please see the vision Tumblr 🙏

Tim: the noble son of socialites in Duke Bruce Wayne's court/lordship(?), trains as a knight under Bruce Wayne after his second prodigy swordman son dies, becomes youngest ever royal guard, is then sent away to train as a knight under another allied kingdom, and is assigned as Prince Kon's personal knight in shining armour

Which leads to

Bruce, classic Batman backstory but instead of Batman it's just fencing and wars and whatnot, on of his allied kingdoms is the kingdom of Metropolis where his ally Clark Kent/Kal El, adopted Dick when circus was in town performing at court yada yada, adopted Jason off the streets, Jason died, the kingdom suffers, Tim forces his way to the top of the Royal Guard and is a pain in Bruce's ass about justice and talking him down and being loyal to his king and his duty as a knight, looking out for him and Bruce sends Tim off to train in Metropolis

Dick: pretty standard background, lives in the seedy (only slightly seedier then Gotham, but doesn't have the rouges like in Gotham)* harbour town Bludhaven settling disputes in that city as like acting lord or something, slowly repairing relationship with Bruce and is in full support of Tim training in Metropolis under Clark Becuase Dick trained under Clark as a kid as well

*Rouges are just like magic users that fuck things up in Gotham, Magic is canon but only certain people can do it and the Al Ghouls are just straight up necromancers which is like. Basically already Canon

Clark: main antagonist for drama purposes but not That bad, a good king kingdom and is generally a good guy, Married to his Queen Lois with a young crown Prince Jon and has an older Bastard child (possibly cursed into him or maybe he and Lex just had a wild knight one time,who knows) but he finds out about Kon after Kon is like a teenager, is just super awkward and sometimes unfairly strict on Kon but hey he's trying

Kon: disgraced from being a crown prince for being a bastard child and not properly trained or educated to be a prince, gets thrust into royal life after mostly social isolation, people see him as the black sheep and the odd one out in his family becuase he's illegitimate, Kon is constantly trying to escape from his Father's hovering and the palace life where everyone is either too formal or snakes who call him a Bastard behind his back,so he's always sneaking out and getting into trouble Becuase there's nobody there to protect him

Enter Tim, stage right

Tim is originally very bitter about being sent away but eventually has fun in the guard (other guards include Cassie and Bart because they need to get in there somewhere and it is TimKon centered)

And then you have Tim assigned as Mom's personal guard and they start out not liking each other but then becoming friends and falling in love and it's adorable💕

[sisitrip]

"As Sweet and Soft"

Gallavich A.U.gust 2024

Smell her. She makes an event deadline on time lol.

For Gallavich A.U.gust @gallavichthings 'free week', I'm pulling out something a little different.

A/N and TW: The title of this story is a misnomer of sorts. This is a story that deals with themes of loss, regret, a retelling of an unaliving attempt, abandonment, and unburdening of harmful secrets. But, it also includes, above all, love of family, reconnection and the humorous ways we all try to overcome massive pain because there’s just no right way to do that. Here, there be comedy too (I hope) and moments so special (hoping again), I smiled the entire time I wrote it. 

So, lovely readers, the both of you lol, if the themes I mentioned will bring you harm in any way, feel free to skip this one and peruse other works that will keep you safe. Besides AO3, check out some other Tumblr accounts in the Gallavich fandom that might have offerings for you. This fandom is jammed with phenomenal creatives and I’m so happy they let me say “I go here.” 

With that, please enjoy "As Sweet and Soft."

--------------------------------

Ian walked him to the front and sat him down carefully as if settling a delicate piece of rice paper. With a kiss and a promise to be back after his ‘errand’, Ian left him alone and reeling.

Mickey sat in the loudest quiet he’s ever been unlucky enough to sit in. Churches, somehow more massive inside than out, always seem to bestow their attendees the power to hear the smallest sound; an apologetic peace offering for its chilly welcome.

Mickey flexed that bestowed power to catch a tiny sniffle. The scritch of nails on stockinged legs. A softly sobbed “42 is so young.” He hid behind this cataloging of sounds, all while wrinkling the most threadbare eulogy ever crafted. Panic rising, he stalled, cataloging absences too. His brothers were here, but his father was not. An aunt he’d never met was here, but Ian was not. 

His mother would never be anywhere again.  

“I’m sorry Mr. Milkovich, but we’ll need to get started. We have a wedding scheduled for later,” the priest murmured regretfully, having materialized like a ghost. He should be regretful. The celebration of death shouldn’t be rushed. 

At the lectern, he looked for Ian’s face in the small crowd, but he still wasn’t back. He needed Ian to keep the world from caving in. What errand could be more important than that? 

He smoothed out his speech on the polished, lemon scented wood. But, tears, fat and blinding, made it impossible to read. At sea, he crumpled the eulogy, struggling to articulate this tectonic cut into his life. He cleared his throat, blinking hard, and gave up on doing this justice. He’ll just do it his way.

“I don’t have a lifetime of memories with her to tell you about,” he began, talking to a pillar instead of the people watching him. 

“She left-” He swallowed hard. “She escaped when I was five. It wasn't as dramatic as that sounds. Her disappearance was actually kind of unremarkable, at first.” He gave a short, bitter laugh. “For something that rocked us hard, I somehow managed to miss it.”

He pressed his fingers into the wood, grounding himself. 

“It wasn’t until I hurt myself that it finally sank in. Like a lot of five year olds, I thought she’d feel it if I got hurt. Like physically feel my pain. Dumb, I know. But, she always used to magically appear to comfort me and bandage me up whenever I got hurt.”

He cleared his throat, fighting against the drain of tears building up. 

“When my cut went on bleeding and she didn't show up, I knew. I knew without a doubt that she wasn’t coming back. She couldn’t feel me anymore, I told my five year old self. So, I put a paper towel around the cut and I broke every toy car I had. That’s how I was able to let her go. I didn't know it would be harder to let her go this time.” 

A door opened somewhere and footsteps approached softly behind him. He refused to give the priest the benefit of his attention. He was almost done anyway.

“But, I didn’t let go of what I remembered about her. How she always smelled like dryer sheets and mercurochrome. How her blue eyes dilated to near black whenever she laughed too hard, which wasn’t often.”

He couldn’t see the pillar now and the soft sobbing from the attendees was wrecking his ability to get through this. He went on, nearly whispering as he fought his own sobs. 

“I didn’t let go of the memory of her sneaking up behind me, when I was drawing or coloring, and blowing kisses into the back of my neck to make me laugh. To make me feel like … somebody loved me.”

His eyes were streaming freely now and the pillar was a shapeless waterfall of gray. He doesn’t think he can finish. But, a small hand, bearing chipped, black nail polish squeezed his arm. 

Mandy. Beautiful, and here and here and here, filling the crater of his grief with her light and love. She gave him a curved smile through her tears. 

Weakened by surprise and gratitude, he leaned into her, pressing his forehead to hers. A pressing warmth on his other side was unmistakably Ian who held him up with an arm around his back. He could finish now. He could do anything. But, more than anything, he wanted to honor his mother. He took a deep breath.

“Like I said when I started, I don’t have a lifetime of memories to share with you about my mother. But, I have the ones I just told you about and I will treasure them until I die. When she could be m-my mother, she was everything.” 

He broke. His harsh, raw sobs escaped unchecked and the church saw fit to amplify them with heartbreaking clarity. Mandy and Ian pressed in close and helped him back to his seat where he couldn’t let go of their hands. Not even long enough to wipe his face of tears. Mandy took care of that. Face just as wet, she cleaned his cheeks without bothering to clean her own. That hadn’t changed in all the years they grew up together. Ian held his other hand between his own, sleeving it in safety and warmth.

The awful, anxiety ridden part is over. He did what he could to honor someone he’d lost a long time ago and he’s at peace with it. As at peace as anyone could be whose mother died. It’s a fitful kind of peace that settles uneasily like a misshapen shroud you never wanted to wear.

The rest of the service was quick and when Mandy inclined her head to the side door, he and Ian followed her, leaving the receiving line of strangers for the small, grassy graveyard out back. They sat amongst the sunshine and crooked tombstones, faces upturned to a cloudless sky the color of his mother’s eyes. 

“How’d you know?” he asked Mandy, taking in her shaggy black hair and pierced septum.

“Your hubby tracked me down a few days ago, bought me a ticket. Got me here to the church in record time.” She threw grass at Ian who just smiled softly at her. “He drives like a criminal.”

He caught Ian’s gaze, heart burning inside him. 

“Errand, huh?” he asked, chin trembling. He will never do anything better than marrying this man. 

Ian winked at him then turned to Mandy.

“You’re staying with us for a few days,” Ian said, cleaning grass off his pants. 

He and Mandy exchanged amused looks. Ian had used his “argue with me and find out” voice. 

“Eww, on the Westside? Do I need to get my shots before they let me in?” Mandy teased. 

Ian stood and yanked her to her feet with a smile. “No shots required for family,” he said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. His mother’s dark hair.

They laughed, easy and comfortable, as if no time had passed. He wished his mother could see this enduring friendship between his sister and the man she wouldn’t let him give up on. 

Ian and Mandy held out their hands to him and he squinted against the sun and their openly loving expressions, blinded by both. He’s going to remember this moment forever. His favorite people are smiling down at him and it was as sweet and soft as a kiss to the back of the neck. 

When he’s pulled to his feet, he can’t help the impulsive kiss to each of their cheeks, surprising them. He shrugs. It’s that kind of day. 

“You want to go to the repass?” Ian asked, arms around the both of them as they walk through the shrines of people who will keep his mother company. 

“No,” he said, looking at Mandy. “You?” 

She gave the graveyard a sad, final look. “No. Let’s just get out of here. We’re disturbing the sleepers.”

They found Iggy and Colin shuffling around in front of the church, looking uncomfortable in their ill fitting suits. He’d told them not to bother dressing up, and was touched that they hadn’t listened. When his brothers saw Mandy, they broke into twin grins. 

“Dickhead 1 and 2, what’s good?” Mandy called, grinning too. Before they answered, she dropped her purse and took a run at them, arms wide. If there was anything good to be had from this awful day, it was his brothers happiness at seeing their sister. 

Iggy and Colin caught her and lifted her between them in a hug that at first was full of smiles then descended into tears. Mandy wiped their faces with the sleeve of her jacket and they touched her hair, trying to smile through their tears. Another moment as sweet and soft as a kiss to the back of the neck.

“What’s this shag shit?” Iggy husked as she cleaned his face.  

“Wolf cut. Easier to take care of.” Mandy cleaned Colin’s face next as he flipped a hank of her hair. 

“Call it whatever you want. It’s a mullet,” Colin said fondly while very gently cleaning her face with his tie and pressing a kiss into her cheek. “You look butch. I like it.”

“Ian,” Mandy called, smiling at Colin. “Can I bring these two weepy little bitches?” 

Ian picked up Mandy’s bag and looked at him with a soft, questioning smile. He shrugged. It would feel good to have his siblings in the house tonight. 

“Alright, listen up. Anyone of you fart, and I mean one damn fart, and everybody is getting kicked out except Mickey and Mandy,” Ian warned with a smile, linking hands with him. 

At their place, Colin ordered a ton of UberEats from every restaurant within a mile and they got comfortable down to their t-shirts and boxers. He knows the circumstances are different, but it felt like it did when Terry left for long stretches and they’d buy fast food with the money they pooled together. It’s how they celebrated the gift of peaceful days and no fresh bruises.

He smiled when Mandy padded out of their bathroom wearing one of Ian’s shirts, looking adorable and small. With a burger in her mouth, she whipped out a bottle of black nail polish and shook it while eyeing her brothers meaningfully. He knows what’s coming and her habit, born out of a need to self soothe, is exactly what they need.

He and his brothers took off their socks and while they ate, laughed and drank, Mandy painted their toes. It broke his heart a little to see her shoulders relax with each painted toe, a reminder of how she used to cope.

Ian bounced questioning eyebrows at him while Mandy painted Iggy’s toes.

“Mandy would paint our toes when she was upset,” he explained. “Been doing it since she was like what, Col?

“Four?” Colin answered. 

“Three,” Iggy chimed in, pointing a drumstick at Mandy. “I had more paint in between my toes than my actual fucking toenails.”

Mandy threw a french fry at him.

“Better than what you got between your goblin toes now. Was that dryer lint in there?” she asked, moving on to start on Colin’s toes.

“Could be. Or it could be cat hair. I like the mystery.” Iggy wiggled his now black-painted toenails. “Speaking of mystery, what’s up with your bare toes? Never saw you go one day without painted toes when you were home.”

Mandy smiled. “Stopped needing to do it. That should tell you something about my level of peace, yeah?” She started painting Mickey’s toes next. “Who wants to play Dead Body?” 

Ian swallowed his bite of cheeseburger, eyes popped wide. “Dead body?” he parroted weakly.

“Yeah. When we were little, we used to compare the times we all saw a dead body,” Iggy said, eating a slice of pizza. 

“You did this, why?” Ian asked. 

“Because, it was better than comparing bruises,” Mickey murmured, forking into his burrito bowl, toenails painted coffin black now. He doesn’t hate it.

Ian gave him such a soft, sad look, Colin scoffed.

“Of all the brutal shit we endured, seeing a dead body was like getting hit in the face with a pillow. Don’t sweat it, Ian,” Colin dismissed. “I’m going first. Mattara, alley. Gut stuck.”

“My turn,” Iggy said. “Lipotzik, train tracks. Froze to death. They had to crack his ass in half.”

“Don’t know her name,” Mandy said, “But, the girl who OD’d in the massage parlor. I saw them taking her out.”

He wasn’t going to join this game, especially because he’d never told anyone about it. But, now that his mother was truly gone, it didn’t feel like telling someone else’s secret. Not anymore.

“I saw Mom dead once. I mean before this time. She died twice.” 

His quiet comment silenced the room. Poor Ian. His face crumpled when he realized that Mickey wasn’t joking. 

“What are you talking about?” Mandy asked, sticking the nail polish brush back in the bottle. 

He looked at his painted toes while he spoke. 

“I got up one night. Had to pee real bad. I used to hold it because even a toilet flushing would set off Terry if he was trying to outsleep a hangover.”

Mandy scooted closer. Iggy and Colin did the same, food forgotten. He went on, speaking from a place of surreal memory. 

“I couldn’t hold it though, so I went into the bathroom. The first thing I saw were her feet. They were pruney and blue looking. Wet too. She was all wet.”

Ian got up and sat behind him, tucking him into the vee of his legs. 

“She wasn’t moving and Terry was kissing her. Or, I thought it was kissing at the time. I realized later he was giving her, you know, mouth to mouth or whatever. See, he’d … he’d pulled her out of the tub where she’d drowned herself.” 

Of all the heavy things he’d wanted to lay to rest today, this secret had to be heaviest.

“Terry kept giving her mouth-to-mouth. He didn’t even notice me standing there. I … I pissed myself when I saw her face.” He inhaled shakily. “Her eyes were open and she wasn’t blinking. She was just … blue.”

Colin and Iggy exchanged grim looks, but said nothing. 

“I must’ve said something. Maybe called her name. Terry kept pressing on her chest and snarled at me to get out. I couldn’t leave so I kind of squatted down and grabbed her cold foot thinking I could help him. Maybe help her.” 

Ian entwined his arms around his waist, and leaned him back into his chest while he finished in a rush, wanting it out and over. 

“She eventually blinked, coughed up a shit ton of water and started breathing again. She saw me and the first thing she did was shove Terry away, told him to get out. When he did, she put me in the same water that she’d drowned herself in, crying the entire time she washed me. Later, Terry told me if I said anything about what happened, everyone would know it was my fault. I knew that wasn’t true, but it felt like it was. At the time. Eventually I didn’t have to say anything because she left a month after that.”

He didn’t cry with the memory. Maybe because it hadn’t felt like a memory at all. It was more like a dream. Blue, cold and unreal in all its horrible detail. 

Colin broke the hold the memory had on him. “Christ, if I could bring Terry back to beat him to death, I would.” 

Iggy took an emotional swig of the Jack Daniels he was clutching, face red and working. “Me first, you second. That fucking fuck.” 

Mandy tossed back the rest of her wine. “Me first and the two of you can hold him.” 

“I’m calling the roster,” Ian interrupted, squeezing Mickey tight. “Mickey gets the first punch, then Iggy and Colin can hold him after they’re done so Mandy can kick him in those two shriveled things he used to call his nuts.” Ian gave his temple a hard kiss. “Me last so I can be the one to wiggle my big, gay dick at him in farewell.”

His brothers and sister held their silence for a single beat before falling into wild laughter. But, instead of laughing himself, he gave Ian a soft, sad kiss of understanding. Ian looked a little pale despite his effort to joke. The story had affected him too. He can see it in the tightness around Ian’s eyes. His story was one of the horrible things they had in common - children of mothers who got a second chance after giving up completely, but who had to leave their children to survive.

“You okay?” he asked Ian, cupping his face. “I probably shouldn’t have brought that up. I wasn’t trying to trigger whatev-” 

Ian pulled him closer and kissed his forehead, his eyes and his mouth last. 

“There. That worry right there. That’s how I know I couldn’t have picked a better husband.” Ian kissed his nose. “I’m good, baby.”

The Milkovich siblings watched this exchange silently, but exploded into gagging noises when Mickey kissed Ian three times in succession, surprising him. Again, today was that kind of day.

“Death makes both of you literal pussies,” Iggy said, laying down to put his head on Mandy’s lap.

“Seeing as how all you do is chase and admire pussy, what you’re really saying is that you want what they have,” Mandy retorted, bouncing Iggy’s head. 

Iggy opened his mouth to argue, but shrugged instead and settled for stealing a fry off Mandy’s plate.

“He definitely wants what they got. But, it takes him twice as long to chase pussy, and when he finally gets some, he’s in that shit for like a minute,” Colin said, slapping Iggy’s foot. “One minute, motherfucker.”

That’s all it takes. Iggy’s up and wrestling Colin while Mandy laughs and picks up her wine to avoid its destruction. Ian calls out a foul hold every now and then, tucking Mickey into his chest to avoid the wild foot swings. 

He smiled, watching it all from the safety of Ian’s arms. This wasn’t a repass that anyone would find dignified and he doesn’t give a shit. This was healing. As healing as any monotone gathering where cookie cutter condolences just made you feel oily and ill at ease.

This was what his mother would’ve wanted. Food, laughter. Love. No eulogy could've honored her more than this.

They stayed up late enough to finish the booze and food. Mandy claimed the couch and the boys curled up on the armchair and floor in front of the fireplace. He checked on them a few times before letting himself be pulled to bed where he lay, eyes hot and unblinking. 

The story he’d told had shaken something loose inside him that he couldn’t quite knit back together. His mother was gone for real. No pruney toes. No gout of coughed up water. No tears as she cleaned him in the water of her death.

She was gone.

Ian settled close to him, and the small lump in his throat became a boulder. It forced him to cry to alleviate the pressure, or so he told his cowardly soul. His tears turned into sniffling. Soft sobs, helplessly cried into Ian’s chest, followed. The quiet crying became harsh barks of pain and he curled into Ian trying to escape it all. Ian took him in his arms and cupped the back of his head to murmur nonsensical sounds of comfort. If only it was as simple as that. Soft words and a firm hug to clear away the pain. God, he wished it was that easy.

A soft knock on their bedroom door preceded Mandy padding in. His crying must’ve called her. It always did. Even when it meant she might catch a beating, Mandy always slipped into his bed  and hugged him until he stopped crying.

She did the same thing now, climbing over Ian to lay on his other side. She put an arm around his waist and he cried harder. For her, for his mother. For all of them.

Another soft knock. Iggy and Colin padded in with pillows and blankets. They settled down on the floor on either side of the bed without saying a word. Ian, God bless him, just smiled into his hair and gave him a squeeze, letting him know it was alright. 

After everyone settled down, the room was quiet and filled with the blue-tinged light of the moon and their collective breathing. 

“I think it goes without saying that we expect y’all not to fuck while we’re in here,” Colin said quietly from the floor. 

Iggy snorted from the other side of the bed. Soon, they were all laughing. 

Ian leaned over, kissed Mandy on the cheek, leaned down over her to slap Iggy on the chest then leaned all the way back to slap Colin on the top of his head. When he settled back down, he gave Mickey the softest, sweetest kiss. It was exactly what he needed. This closeness is what they all needed. 

As he started to fall into sleep, a gentle, almost melodic fart rang out. The bed shook as he, Ian and Mandy struggled not to be the first to laugh aloud.

“I can still stay, right Ian?” Iggy whispered from the floor, his plea a confession. 

They all dissolved into giggles, hissed softly between teeth. It was cleansing, this infantile humor. It was also a way for motherless children to find comfort and laughter in the dark.

“Yeah,” Ian said, breathing soft laughter into Mickey’s hair. “You can stay.”

He hid his face in Ian’s neck to let the warm pulse there soothe him towards sleep. He faded to the sound of the occasional laugh from his family, glad he was surrounded by the people who love him. 

And he can’t be sure, but just as he made his final descent into sleep, he felt something that eased his pain enough for him to sink into unconsciousness. 

A kiss, soft and sweet, pressed into the back of his neck.

[peachjagiya]

PEACH!!!! I just need to scream this somewhere LOL!! TAEKOOK REAL!!! ARGRGRGRGGRRHHHH Anyway, screaming aside, may I just point out how the "Jungkook might have been in Hawaii too" theories came about after Type 1 photos preview were dropped? I feel so proud and validated as a TKKR when some TKKRS pointed out how the "look" of some of Taehyung's photos is so relaxed and intimate. We noticed the look Tae usually has around Jungkook and how Jungkook captures him so the chatter of JK being there with him started. THEN, the Hello Kitty Plushie discussion era arrived, with us debating if it's the same or they both got 1. We were too careful with our theories even! Most settling on, they probably got 1 of each. BUT, the point is we still could identify that JK is somehow connected to Type 1!!

AND BOOM! SUNDAY HAPPENED!! Taehyung confirmed our suspicions that JK was there with him!!! ARRRRRGGGGHHHHHHRHHGHG *combusting* LOL! I'm just so proud of us TKKRs too for knowing them enough to flag that "hey, this Tae look usually comes out when JK is around or taking photos of him" but the photobook description was spending alone time, BUT that's his Jungkook looooook!! Then we go about our days wondering if we are just hallucinating LOL! BUT NOOOOO, I am just so happy for TKKRs coz we can identify the nuances that their solos most likely are blind on specially those who diminish their bond. They miss out on being able to see through another layer of their fave because they don't want to accept the other's existence and importance on their faves' lives. Imagine living through one of our theories getting confirmed????!!! Like OMG, I am on a high right now... I feel so happy for them and proud at the same time that we can "see" them. Not to make TKKRs important but imagine having people who can acknowledge a huge part of you despite having to hide it not out of choice but out of norms and expectations, yet people can still acknowledge that your hearts have so much love to share and your bond is as beautiful as you believe it to be. You are SEEN. Our community is a mixed bag, we will always have bad apples, but for those who are just observing and getting inspired by them with no hate in their hearts, I want you to know that I may not know TaeKook and how they feel but I just know they are happy to have you around. I also want to take this opportunity to thank @taekooktimeline Kayla, I feel like what she is doing is so so significant and will be an important piece of TaeKook history. Going thru the timeline with your own judgment and seeing the bigger picture always blow me away. Specially when most moments get confirmed years later. It feels so surreal how we feel quite lost in moment of time, then clarity comes when you least expect it. Anyway, I blabbered too much, I'm still on that TaeKook High. People may say we are too delusional and romanticize stuff, but look we tried to be rational and logical, most recent example is the plushie then here comes Taehyung essentially telling us "You're not delusional enough. We didn't just spend time together. Jungkook actually flew to see me when I told him I missed him." Like no TKKR blog here would even come up with the Jungkook flying to Hawaii just coz Taehyung missed him part. We are too careful with our thoughts HAHAHA maybe in TK fanfic side of tumblr but dammmn.. it's real!! Have a great year Peach, the ride will be rougher the next couple of weeks but I know once MS is over there will be more of us screaming and feeling like everything is so surreal LOL!

ANON!

Scream away!

I think more than anything, even over very couple-y vibes, this feels special because it cements the bond we've known about and often been asked to defend.

This moment is not for the jkkrs. I don't even really care how they're dealing with it. Not my job to correct them or set them on a certain path.

BUT I must confess the fact that it's JK who travelled, that JK is shown being physically affectionate with his hand on Tae's neck so protectively when Tae isn't touching him at all... That did give me extra levels of joy because it torpedoes the (offensive) idea that JK is bothered by Tae's one sided affections. No, sorry and excuse me but Tae isn't a weirdo desperate for JK's attention, he isn't a clingy friend who JK wants to shake off and Tae isn't exaggerating their bond. Tae is none of the weird things people accuse him of and that's a good thing to have confirmed so decisively (even if we already knew.)

As for the photos, I guess this is the mystery that is left! It does feel kind of like Tae included JK because he was part of Type 1's production, doesn't it? And I do think the quality of some of the photos is very similar to JK's photos. And we have that picture of topless person with longish hair who may or may not be JK taking a picture:

(I go back and forth on this because sometimes it doesn't look curly enough to be JK's hair but then actually, I think his hair only looks so curly in that one picture because it's wet and when it's dried out, it can sit straighter. Etc etc.)

Anyway blah blah, maybe we'll find out for sure but we all absolutely had a hunch, didn't we?!

I hope they do find our support even a little bit encouraging. I reckon fandom can feel pretty intense but generally everyone on here seems to be rational and keen not to be inappropriate about them? At least I hope genuinely supportive voices sometimes get through.

What a nice ask. Thank you anon!

[ficoandleo]

I have mega ADHD so I forget things easily and have a hard time settling down and doing stuff. I don't remember everyone who deactivates or goes inactive. And I know I should express my love more for people who are currently around--i'd like to do that someday too!! But idk i kinda wanted to shout out to some of the people who deactivated/disappeared, especially recently, in the off chance they see this and know i love them lol

@battyoldman let's start with you because whether or not you decide to stick around you're kind of the most recent. I really hope you just need some time away for your mental health and, if this is something you'd like to continue doing, if it's something you enjoy, that you come back and keep blessing us with your presence. Your Ed is so. Silly and fun and chill and perfect. The video and movie titles you'd come up with are so befitting of his goofy conspiracy interests. You have really captured that old man's essence, in my opinion. Your interactions with Rui were so seamless I figured you were in one of the discord servers and already knew each other and you were just growing and exploring a relationship you'd already practiced in another setting. Honestly everything felt so seamless on your end when I saw you interact with others and when I got to interact with you--Ed was so largely unphased by everyone's shit and distaste for him(up until Towa said he was bad at sucking dick, he was not taking that lying down--) and the way he entertained himself with everyone's affairs. . .he really had the feeling of lying away in his tower, entertained by the humans. 10/10, if it's still fun for you I hope you won't leave us because we will miss you.

@ask-kaito-fuji i didn't get to interact with you much WHICH IS A SHAME. Your Kaito is so cute and he's. Really trying he felt so solid and charming and just awkward enough and I love the way you let him interact with posts that were ooc too because lbr he loves social media! He would be vibing out on tumblr!! It felt like he was this close to realizing he was in the matrix sometimes. Seeing people know a bunch of stuff and going 'why/how do you know so much it's so creepy!!' was delightful, and getting to personally chat with him once or twice was also very fun. 10/10 you brought the party to other people and you captured the character very well. His PDL is coming up though, so you may wanna hide him /joke

@frostheimking so your blog is gone but not deactivated(deactivated tumblrs have '-deactivated' and a string of numbers on the end of them and you can often still ping them) which, to me, reeks of Tumblr being stupid because I've seen that happen to multiple people before. I don't think you're gone on purpose, I assume there was a bad spam deletion somewhere or an alleged break of the rules because I've seen that happen before. So I'm hoping you either get the blog back or remake because, while you weren't around often because lbr it's slow around here for the most part, I loved your Jin??? I don't just mean because he was kinda flirting with Romeo, he was snappy and cold and. Idk he really felt like Jin. That's the best way I can think to word it, you captured his character from what I could see. I enjoyed our interactions and I enjoyed the ones you had with others too! I was looking forward to exploring Romeo and Jin's history and dynamic with you quite a bit haha. HOPEFULLY YOU GET YOUR BLOG BACK or remake if you're interested!! 10/10 tumblr fix your shit there's unfinished business--

@leo-brat-kurosagi-deactivated20 hey. You. You are far more Leo than I am lmao. I DO NOT HAVE THE MENTAL CAPACITY TO BE THE MEAN LEO THAT YOU WERE. I WISH I COULD BE AS SNARKY AND BRILLIANT. You weren't around super long and you didn't get to have a ton of interactions or answer a lot of asks but like. How do I say that I could just kind of tell what kind of potential was there for something great??? You handled him very well in the time you played him. You lived up to being a little brat for sure.

@sinostracasino-deactivated20241 YOU DO NOT UNDERSTAND THE VISCERAL REACTION OF WHAT NO WHY COME BACK THAT I FELT SEEING YOU GONE. You were hilarious and fun and silly and also a good writer as I recall. Your Taiga had great energy and this underlying tension to him and we would have dug into that Taiga doesn't care about himself if Romeo wasn't afraid to do so. I was looking forward to them having some great, stupid, cyclical arguments, maybe a shootout, maybe eventually getting back together a little. And maybe a little something for that birthday trip to Rui's bar. And his chemistry and interactions with others and with anons were fun??? Immediately warming up to Towa? Teasing the honor students?? The little bit of 'bickering' with Ritsu? Also the way you tagged some of your reblogs god. 10/10 Taiga, he owes so much child support.

. . .those are the ones off the top of my head, mostly recent, which isn't to say I don't see or recognize or have appreciation for others not being around a lot or going away(like @/ask-lucas-errant who did answer an ask recently-ish, who isn't too active but that's probably because of lack of asks/interaction; @/shiranami-ren who I figure isn't around much because they draw a lot of their answers and that's a bit more intensive of a way to run their blog--amazing stuff and very much the classic way to do this from the old days, I would absolutely do the same if I could draw; and the Lycas who deleted probably because of inactivity) all of whom have/had great presentation for their characters and handled them well but. Idk. Maybe i ended up posting mostly people 'closer' to me in this context haha. . . .

I wish this fandom was bigger and more active with sending asks and stuff because I feel like that's a big contributor to people falling off or deleting, and I wish I were more consistent with asks and responses and better at sending asks myself because I could be the change I want to see in the world. (I feel like the asks I send have to be, like, good. Like I appreciate getting simple and basic asks but I feel like I need to ask Big Headcanon Questions or something.) But I know everyone's got their own lives and their own things going on so I'm not going to pretend I know what's going on with everyone, y'know? More than anything I hope everyone--active, inactive, deleted, or otherwise--is happy and safe and comfortable where they are and that the ones who've dropped off didn't do so because of anything bad or any kind of discouragement. Sometimes we lose interest in things and that's more than fine. Or life is busy. I hope you're all doing well. I miss you! I'm sure I'm not the only one!

[rorywritesjunk]

the buggy with a older sister reader was so cute . when i was reading i thought to my self what would buggy's reaction be if he finds out marco has a crush on his sister.

Disclaimer: So Imma be honest here, I'm still getting through One Piece and haven't seen Marco yet but I know who he is because of fanfiction and spending half my time on Tumblr.

Ok now that's out of the way.

So this would happen when Buggy is under age 15 because I imagine once he passes 15 he won't care what his sister gets up to because she's an adult at that point. So let's say he's 12, she's 17, this guy shows up and she's gonna look at him and think his head reminds her of a pineapple. She kind of just shrugs and Marco maybe tries to flirt with her.

Buggy's going to feel extra protective because one, his sister survived nearly dying two years prior. She's got scars now all over her body. And two, her nose is like Buggy's, y'know, and if Buggy had those scars as well as his nose he'd feel self conscious, but his sister doesn't.

And maybe that's why Marco gets a crush. Nothing really bothers her while living on the ship and he likes that in a woman. So he tries flirting, bringing her a snack when she's working, tries to use flowery words to say how beautiful she is, and she just figures he's had too much heat exposure or something because why is he comparing her hair to kelp, it's not the same color at all.

And here's Buggy, anytime they're alone he butts in, wanting to be there if his sister needs help lifting anything or moving boxes because y'know, Buggy is a lot stronger than his sister (he isn't tho) and has beat up suitors before (she hasn't had suitors before, the crush Shanks had on her when he was 11 doesn't count). And she's kind of oblivious to the whole thing while Marco wonders why this kid keeps butting in.

And when Marco finally says something to her, Buggy is right there, he heard this guy say he thinks his sister is beautiful and wonders if they could do some kind of date, and Buggy hates the idea because what if his sister falls in love and decides to leave him behind? And to Buggy's horror, his sister just shrugs and agrees to it. Now he's certain his sister is going to fall in love and leave him behind, which is the last thing he wants.

Except she doesn't. She goes on a date (onboard the ship because she doesn't care to get off the ship when they are at a port (that's a lie she's not allowed off the ship because she keeps rescuing cats and Rayleigh won't let her off the ship unsupervised)). It's fine. She doesn't really care. Marco talks to her and she kind of just eats her food, listening, but how is this different from just sitting with the crew and eating?

And maybe Buggy can't handle it and comes to join them. Marco really would rather he didn't, this is supposed to be a date between the two of them, no little brothers allowed, but you let Buggy sit between the two of you with his own plate and you ask Marco what he wants in life besides piracy, because you love animals and have been spending more time with Crocus learning how to take care of injuries and you wouldn't mind eventually settling down somewhere to help out animals.

But of course you had to make sure Buggy was okay, and you wouldn't be leaving until you knew your little brother would be fine without you. He was your responsibility and future suitors needed to know this. And Buggy looks at this guy, kind of smug, because hearing that assures him that his big sister won't go anywhere any time soon, and that pineapple headed guys have to understand who comes first when Buggy is involved.

[artists-ally]

I wanna start a blog but I’m not sure how to start off, I know I want to write and have some vague ideas but not sure what to do.

Any ideas or tips?

Alright get comfy I have so many things to say.

Above ALL. ELSE. for the love of god, do not give in to the pressure to constantly write. One day things will click on Tumblr, and asks and requests will start flooding in. You’re gonna get hundreds of likes and comments asking for more parts and whatnot. Do. Not. Give. In. To. The. Pressure. You’re going to get really excited, like “oh my god, finally I’m getting noticed and appreciated let me give them more!!” No. You will get burnt out and will hate it. Do it on your own time, whenever you want. Write what YOU want. Use that excitement in a way that has a positive impact on your work.

When it comes to planning what to write, just keep it simple. It doesn’t have to be some elaborate top to bottom detailed guide. I personally just use bullet points. And trust me, none of it has to be cohesive. It can literally just look like this:

Reader goes to a party

Azriel is standing mysteriously in the corner

They catch eyes from across the room

Reader is dancing with friends, and some rando dude comes up and starts feeling up on them

Reader tells him to back off

He doesn’t

Readers friend goes to intervene

Azriel comes from the corner and takes the guy outside to show him what happens when you disrespect a woman

Az makes sure you and your friend are okay

You two get talking and plan to go on a date

It can just be something like that. Or sometimes the best plan is no plan and see where your brain takes you. Whatever you do, just make sure you’re writing it because YOU want to write it. That it’s the kind of context you’d like to read, and everything else will fall into place with time.

3. Write whatever you’re feeling. If you’re sad, write whatever you need to make yourself feel better. Whether that’s fluff, angst, or something else. If you want to be comforted, write something about a character taking care of you. If you’re angry, write a crazy betrayal. It is just you, your mind, and google docs.

4. Don’t be worried if your writing doesn’t INSTANTLY take off. THATS just not how shit happens here. And here’s a little tip, depending on your timezones, you’ll want to post at different times. I’ve found that posting later in the evening, at like 6-8pm on Friday, Saturday, or Sunday will yield the best results. It’s when people are settling in for the night and want to relax and read some good shit. But honestly, post whenever, people will find it.

5. Make yourself a rules/who you write for and post it on your masterlist. By all means, go ahead and look at mine for inspiration. When you find your audience, they will ask for more. Let them know what/who you’re comfortable writing for.

6. MAKE FRIENDS. Having some support when you’re stuck on a plot point and don’t know where to go from there is so nice!! We have such an amazing community of writers here and I have made lifelong friends on this app. Everyone has their own bits of advice they could give and having a different perspective or fresh set of eyes is really helpful.

7. Model what you see. Everyone has to start their writing journey somewhere. I’m not sure if you’ve ever written fanfiction before, but the first couple you put out there are definitely not going to be your best work. And be okay knowing that. The more you read, the more styles of writing you look at to develops your own is how you get to that sweet spot where everything you write is consistent and good quality. It could take months and years, it certainly took me a long fucking time to be able to produce the work I do, and that’s just how it goes. I’m proud of the work I post, no matter if it’s for Suits or ACOTAR, I love everything I put out. Be patient with yourself and allow room for mistakes.

8. Have a note in your phone for all your random ideas you come up with while out and about. Happens to me ALLL the time. I constantly have new ideas and having one collection of them all, that’s easy to access anywhere, is so smart.

9. Let’s talk about the layout of your blog!! The number one thing you should have is a masterlist! A collection of all your links to your writing. Take a look at mine and any of your other favorite writers to see what aspects you like/dislike. It should be organized and easy on the eyes, try not to have a billion things on there that are unnecessary. You can link who/what you write, all your fics, and whatever else you wanna post about!! Whether your requests are open or closed. Stuff like that. Make it to your aesthetic and exactly what you want. It’s like decorating your room, it can be anything.

10. Last but certainly not least, welcome to the tumblr writing community. We are so excited to have you here love, and I cannot wait to see all the amazing work you put out. If you’re nervous, don’t be!! We’re all here to lift each other up and help along the way. If you ever have questions, feel free to reach out!! All of us had to start somewhere. We know what it’s like to spend weeks and months posting stuff to only get 30-40 likes. But it’ll happen one day. With one re-blog everything will change, you just have to be patient

I’m going to tag some of my besties and hopefully they’ll re-blog or comment some of their advice and welcome you in!!

@thelov3lybookworm @sarawritestories @readychilledwine @berryzxx @bubybubsters @claireswritingcorner @milswrites @fell-in-luvs @riddlesb1tch @pit-and-the-pen @thehighladywrites

[imsorryithurts]

Whumperless Whump Day 1

@whumperless-whump-event

Hello, friends! This is my first entry for the Whumperless Whump Event. I don't have much experience with formatting text on tumblr, so I hope it'll be legible. I am also not an experienced writer, I just wrote down what comes to my mind! If anything is too out of place feel free to tell me (nicely!).

This is set up in my "generic space adventure" setting, if you want a primer on the characters, you can read it here: [link]

Thanks to Seth for setting this up, and without further ado, here's my story.

-x-

Emergency First Aid:

Self-done stitches / Alcohol as sanitizer / “It's just a scratch, I've had worse.

Content warnings: Falling from heights, bruises, lacerations, and stitches.

-x-

“I’m fine, I promise.” Matt took a deep breath, doing his best to keep his voice steady. “It's just a scratch. I’ve been worse.”

It wasn't exactly a lie. He was fine. He has had worse.

He had to admit, though, calling it a scratch was quite the understatement.

“I swear to fucking god, Matt,” Rex’s voice rang distantly through the comm. “If we get there and your leg is missing, I'm ripping out the other one myself!”

“We’ve got your coordinates already,” Roye’s voice came through the speaker much clearer, without much background noise. Matt had to laugh at the possibility that Rex wrestled the comm out of Roye's hand just to threaten him. “We're trying to figure out how to get to you, just don't move, right?”

Matt could tell by his tone that he was serious. Roye was using his “captain voice”. He would be here in seconds, if he could.

“Matt, do you hear me?”

“Yeah,” he picked up his comm with his uninjured arm. “Yeah, I hear you.” He hoped to god this sluggishness wasn't from blood loss.

“Call back if anything happens. We're coming.” There was the noise of a finished call.

Matt sighed and slumped back against the sandy rock formation he was sitting against. The same kind of rock that crumbled under his feet at the mount above, sending him rolling god knows how many meters away. He only didn't curse it because it was providing some much needed support at the moment, and he didn't want to risk losing it because he offended it.

He gathered up some motivation to take stock of his situation again. He took his cracked mask off. The team always made fun of him for wearing the O2 mask even in breathable planets, but it very likely saved him from a broken nose and a couple of mouthfuls of dirt. He set it aside along with his comm, breathing in the fresh, even if slightly too humid air.

He was sore all over, but that's to be expected. His left knee hurt particularly badly, along with his foot that was caught in a root on the way down. Nothing was at a weird angle and he could move his toes inside his boot, so probably nothing was broken. He couldn't tell what was going on with the foot, it hurt way too much to bend his knee in order to remove the boot, and even if he could reach it, the swelling had already settled in, making it hard to remove it on his own. So he settled for leaving the leg outstretched for now, to be given attention once he was back in the ship.

The “scratch”, on the other hand, needed attention now immediately.

Somewhere along the way his right forearm had snagged on something, that something ripping a gash almost from his wrist to his elbow. He had spent the last couple of minutes pushing against it with his jacket to stop the bleeding while trying to relate his situation to the rest of the team. Now that nobody was listening, he allowed himself to groan loudly as he peeled the fabric away from the wound.

Like he said, he’s had worse. Still, it was not pretty. He was lucky enough that the edges weren't too ragged, but it was still long and deep. It had stopped pouring out blood and now it oozed lazily, red filling the entirety of it like a lake.

Matt pressed his jacket against it again, pushing against the sides, trying to mop up some of the blood.

Not pretty might not be a good enough description. Squeezing some of the blood out of it exposed the angry edges around a pit of bright red muscle, lumps of nauseatingly yellow fat tissue clumped around it. 

He poured half of the water from his canteen over it. Blood loss or infection was going to kill him before dehydration anyways. He fished the first aid kit from his backpack, working as fast as he could, if he hesitated, the pain would take over his brain and he’d be scared to do anything so as to not aggravate it.

He held his breath and poured as much antiseptic as he could over his arm. Even if he had been trying to be quiet, he wouldn't have been able to hold back the scream he let out as the liquid touched his exposed flesh, white hot searing pain burning all the way to his bones.

He sat back with his arm outstretched to wait the worst of the pain away and catch his breath. Once he could take a full steady breath in, he retrieved the little suture kit.

It was a good thing he was the one to take that fall. Matt wasn't sure any of his colleagues would manage to properly clean and stitch a wound. Even with guidance over the comm, some of them could have the dexterity to do the stitches, but not the ability to keep calm until more help arrived.

It wasn't until Matt had the needle, thread and hemostat ready he realized that, actually, he had no idea how he would do this either.

His dominant hand was useless to work on this two handed job. He could probably use it to hold something, but there was no way to use it on its own arm.

He better not have a fucking concussion on top of all this.

He steadied his arm between his knees, trying to squeeze it in a way to push the edges of the wound as close together as possible. He was determined to make it up as he went along.

He couldn't get the hemostat to work on his left hand, so he threw it aside and held the needle with his fingers.

He expected the sting of the needle to feel like nothing compared to the agony of the gash, but it aggravated it in a way he had to consider just leaving it alone and take his chances against dying right there. He shakily pushed the needle through the other side of flesh after a couple of deep breaths.

He stared at the thread crossing his open skin. The obvious part was over, now he had to focus to remember all the steps. It was like doing his first stitches on a sponge all that time ago.

Right. Cross the thread. This was the twisty part, right? He missed having the hemostat.

Come on, learning to do something one handed was good, rewiring the brain, keeping it in shape.

He made two loops, moving the thread with his thumb and index, holding it with his pinkie. He pushed the needle through the loops, pulling it with his teeth and holding the loose side of thread, the edges of skin meeting where the stitch tractioned it. Matt let himself whimper at the feeling, both the surface of the skin and muscles protesting at the movement.

He repeated the loops to the other side, cursing when they slipped away from his fingers, but completing the knots of the stitch. 

He snipped the ends of thread, completing the suture. He sighed in relief and admired his work. But then he had to laugh. 

That was one stitch down. There remained… What, about 20?

His comm beeped to life beside him. Isabella's voice came from it. “Hey, Matt, how are you holding up?”

“Fine.” He sighed, forcing his voice not to shake. “My foot is still messed up, so I’m-I’m just sitting here.”

“We're going to leave you bored for a while. We found a path around the bushes, should take a little less than two hours to reach you,” She said, apologetic, but hopeful. “Roye says he’d keep you company if we weren't worried about about battery.”

“Ha, thanks.” He swallowed the lump in his throat, looking at how much he still had to suture, the wound slowly seeping blood into his pants. “I’ll just enjoy a nap, maybe.”

“Sleep well, Matt. We’ll wake you when we get there,” she signed off sweetly.

Matt laid back against the rock, looking at his injured arm. He sighed and forced himself upright. He wiped the blood around it as best as he could. The gash wasn't going to close itself.

He struggled with the next two stitches, but then he blanked out, and when he realized, half of it was already closed up.

It was not a good sign, but he was relieved it was almost done before he noticed.

His hands shook as he completed the next ones, and the needle slipped out of his fingers more than once, but he got there.

He pierced the skin one last time, looped the thread twice, pulled the needle through. Looped twice to the other side, pulled it through. Helping with his teeth. His vision was blurry and his mouth tasted like copper. But he did it.

He snipped the last of the thread, finally. 

He slumped back against the rock, realizing he had been holding his breath. He had to pour some more antiseptic over it, but he couldn't get his non injured arm to move. Needed to drink some water, maybe, but his limbs fell heavily at his sides.

Well, fuck. At least people were already coming. 

His vision started to grey out, and he allowed the fog to take over.

-

He woke up being half carried already.

“I FUCKING TOLD YOU HE WAS HIDING SOMETHING,” Rex shouted beside him. “WHAT DID I FUCKING SAY, I’LL RIP YOUR OTHER ARM APART, YOU IDIOT!”

Matt chuckled. He would have thought the same if the roles were reversed.

He felt his consciousness drifting again. He took advantage of the light hearted moment and the safety of the arms heaving him up, and let it go. He was fine now.

[hauntedhokage]

PART 09: Planted

WORD COUNT: 1k

SUMMARY:  Bakugou’s thank you gift has materialized, he’s just forgotten to tell you that it’s for you

[series masterlist] | {ao3} | [tumblr masterlist] | {ko-fi} | [spotify playlist]

The plant Bakugou had settled on was basically a miniature palm tree. It was taller than the two men and had to weigh at least sixty pounds without the massive planter it would need to live in and, naturally, the two men bickered the entire time they had to carry it. Neither knew where to put it, so it was placed by the entryway to the kitchen and they were done with it. You could direct them properly after Bakugou presented it to you.

When you finally return to the apartment after a long day of work, you’re surprised by the new edition to their environment but say nothing about it. If they wanted to talk about their new giant plant, they would, but instead you were told that dinner was almost ready and you just made your way to the small dining table. 

Over the last week, however, you and that palm were at odds. It was beautiful, but where they’d chosen to place it was not the best. Just barely out of your line of sight but perfectly placed for you to walk into. You had bruises on your hips from how often you ran into the thing since it was perfectly placed for you to walk into whenever you were leaving the kitchen to go to Eijirou’s bedroom or going into the kitchen from the living room, which created issues because your boyfriend's fingers found those bruises easily. 

“I really keep bumping into this thing,” you comment as you exit the kitchen on the morning of the seventh day, your hip hitting the rim of the planter for what was probably the hundredth time since its arrival in the apartment. “Not to tell you how to decorate, but is there somewhere else it can go?”

“Where do you wanna put it?” Eijirou asks, watching as you tilt your head in confusion while he gently takes your coffee mug from your hand to steal a drink. 

“Not my apartment.”

“But it is your plant.”

“It absolutely is not,” you counter, knowing that he knew damn well you wouldn’t bring a massive palm tree into their apartment. The building didn’t have an elevator, so you couldn’t have gotten it up here on your own. “I didn’t buy this thing.”

“No, but Bakugou got it for you. He didn’t tell you?”

“I haven’t seen him all week. Why would he get me a large plant?”

“Ask him!” The front door is opening, and you’re both looking at the confused Bakugou who hadn’t even crossed the threshold yet.

“Ask me what?” Eijirou just looks at you, and you take your coffee back before he emptied the mug while turning to face Bakugou.

“What’s up with the plant? And can we move it?” you ask, gesturing to the palm and watching the hero’s face quickly cycle through a couple different versions of flustered before he coughs

“Yeah, where do you want it?”

“Why is it my choice?”

“It’s your plant.” The two men speak in unison, and you only look between them while putting your hand on your hip as Eijirou looks to Bakugou. The way those two had conversations with just their faces was borderline annoying when you were just eating dinner with them, to have them do this while you were trying to deal with the apparently gifted plant can be forgiven since you know this is a vulnerable moment for the blonde that Eijirou was trying to help him through without over-helping (if that was even possible at this stage of budding friendship). 

“It’s, uh- it’s a palm.” You saw as much, but you know better than to push when Eijirou shoots a look your way. “Wanted to get you something nice to thank you for taking care of us after Fight Night. We can move it, but I can also take it back if you hate-”

“It’s not leaving this apartment.” You cut him off, raising a hand to stop Bakugou’s nervous rambling. “I only want it moved over by the TV so I stop bumping into it.”

“So…you like it?”

“I love it a lot!” You weren’t going to tell him you weren’t sure how to keep it alive, that could wait until he truly believed that you liked it. “But, also, you should probably come inside.”

There’s a moment where you’re hiding your smile in your coffee mug as Eijirou holds in his laughter while Katsuki looks around and sees that he is, in fact, still standing in the open doorway. The pink on his cheeks evolves into a red, and he quickly crosses the threshold and shuts the door behind him a bit harder than was intended. The request for help moving the palm is answered, and you can only watch as they carefully squat to lift the large planter and carry it across the living room to rest in the open space beside the TV before Bakugou is excusing himself to shower. 

“It’s really a beautiful palm,” you comment to Eijirou once Bakugou is locked in the bathroom to shower, and you know by the look on his face that he was really proud of it. 

“He picked it all out on his own. The tree, the pot, everything. I was just there to help carry it.”

“But does he know how to take care of it?” you ask, leaning into his side when his hand settles on your hip. “Because I know you don’t.”

All he says is that Bakugou was confident he could help you with it, leaning in to kiss your head as you both continue to look at the plant. It’s a comfortable quiet between you two, until you realize something. Eijirou had never done anything grand like this for you, not that he really needed to, but it was good teasing material. 

“How come you never got me a houseplant, Eiji?”

“I got you a key to my apartment, multiple drawers in my dresser, and you’re using my favorite coffee mug. Where’s my plant at your apartment?”

“You’re not responsible enough for a plant, babe. That’s why he hasn’t gotten you one either.”

[ell-arts]

Just some talking

Not quite a life update, but not quite an activity post either lol, just a plain post about some general things I guess?

I've slowed down quite a bit on content and activity on here. Ever since graduating and moving back in with my parents, I've been hit with art-lethargy and burnout fully settled in, and so I just kinda allowed myself to be stagnant for a while, recovering from the harrowing year that was 2023. It's been helpful. Of course, I couldn't rest for too long because I had to finalise my portfolio/CV and prepare for the working world. Good news is that starting today I'm working on a concept art/storyboard internship for an animation company for two weeks. I don't know if I'll stick with them after the internship ends, but I do have my eye on some other job offerings. We'll see.

I also just realised that 13 Jan was the 1-year anniversary of me returning to being active on Tumblr again. Since then, I believe I've made more content for PMATGA than ever before, and its all thanks to your support! Hoping for another year of PMATGA fanworks.

That being said, I want to get to the main point of this post. In the next few days (weeks?) I won't be talkative or very active for a bit.

If I may be honest, there's been a heck of a thing going on with my family and in my personal life right now. It's sucking at all of my energy and driving me to the point of having an anxious/depressive episode. Outside of work, I really don't have the motivation or will to work on any content at this point in time.

I've been trying to at least do small bits of writing, hoping to get a few fun drabbles out. But they're uninspired and being done haphazardly, because of emotional lethargy and feeling drained regarding irl drama. I am still barely recovering from last year's burnout from uni. So I'm not going to force it. My drive will come back in time, I just need time to readjust to a new work schedule and deal with personal issues first.

I know that Call Me Cyli is much anticipated. I know that The Veil has now gone precisely a full year without an update, equally as anticipated, if not more. I know how much you guys love these stories.

I am not giving up on them. I just need some time.

Hopefully, after I've landed a permanent job somewhere, I'll be able to have a bit more stability in my time and schedule.

Thank you all so much for being so kind and supportive during my first year back on Tumblr 💙 I'll see you when I see you :)

[dapg-otmebytheballs]

SAY THE PARASOCIAL THING SAY IT

Aksjfhk okay

This got super long but basically I was thinking about that post about Phil being more open in his boundaries and I think he actually always has been! More under the cut

I think Phil has actually always been more self-assured in his interactions with the audience and I have some idea(?) of why that is. Phil has been around forever on YouTube, he is kind of a performer in a very classical way. You can see this in like how he carries himself in his liveshows, using very basic tenets of performance that we're taught like face the audience always and fill up any lulls in the conversation. There is always a screen between the creator and the audience, of course there is. But the culture we see now of internet celebrities and their audiences having very little boundaries because of how accessible creators have become to audiences wasn't as prominent back then. You understood as a creator that your audience will make whatever they want of what you're saying and you can't account for any bad faith readers. Phil always came across to me as someone who knew how much he wanted to put out there and was self assured in it. He doesn't feel the need to clarify stuff, and likewise engages with fandom in a similar good faith. What goes on in his life and what informs his thoughts, beyond what he shares, is none of our business, that was an understood thing and he's left it at that. And what fandom talks about, how we interpret stuff, how we do our parasocial shit is also not meant to be more than a performance, it isn't supposed to Say Something Serious about the creators, which is also understood. And though of course audience interactions started getting wildly out of hand some years after Phil started posting, he still is a product of a time where that wasn't how things are meant to be and he maintains that distance with ease. Thinking about stuff like draw Phil naked where he engaged with it in good humour, or how he didn't mind having sponsorships and clickbait titles because there's an implicit understanding that this is All A Performance so he doesn't have to try and "act authentic". There's a confidence he has in his role as an entertainer, and that informs how he interacts with us. (also I had expressed this all much better earlier but Tumblr ate it up so now I have to type it again sorry if this reads weird ;-;)

On the other hand, Dan seems to worry about all that stuff a Lot More. (And I was apprehensive about saying this so I thank anon here for allowing me to say my parasocial shit XD) And the thing is, the reason I notice that is Because I am literally like Dan about that stuff when interacting with an audience (I did some videos as well yeah, but also when I've organised events that I had to host, or presented poetry somewhere, etc etc) where I constantly feel the need to qualify everything I say and do very worried I'll come off as being maliciously bad, or even perceived as being a certain way or having a certain tone when I don't. I find it in rather positive ways with Dan too (like correcting language in old videos or pulling them off when there's something in there that aged badly or could be seen in bad taste). But other times I see reflected in him my own tendency to overcompensate (self referencing how he is making Easy-Content a la 'some shit a youtuber would do', making sure he doesn't come across as having the wrong political opinions by stressing on his principles when something like that comes up 'don't settle for neoliberalism' ((also he is totally correct and I actually do love those clarifications just fyi)) )

You can see this play out so well that time when Phil accidentally says 'cockies' instead of 'cookies' and Dan makes a 'cut that out' motion and Phil just laughs about it and corrects himself and Dan goes "Are you keeping that in??"

There's probably a lot of factors to why they have those particular styles of interacting, and really there's merit to both. Phil knows where the boundaries are and ever since him just speaking random shit hasn't had the extra issue of possibly outing Dan before he's ready, Phil has just gotten even more open with how he speaks, but I truly think he doesn't care as much what we think about him. It's like, what's going on in his life is none of our business and what we're making out of our parasocial relationship with him is none of his business, which is a great way of approaching being a creator and unfortunately something that is becoming less and less of an option as the culture shifts completely with generations that have been within this internet creator culture since they were born.

Dan having entered the scene later on when this kind of culture had started (plus of course his own issues that did Not help the situation) means that it made sense for him to approach us with that bit of hesitancy and that he continues to do so. I know I have that hesitancy about how I word things because I've also seen people be taken out of context and treated in really bad faith and that is a completely understandable thing to take into consideration.

But yeah Phil being the "quiet one" has never really meant that he is less certain/more shy to me, personally, I think he is an incredibly professional entertainer is the thing and I love love love that about him because he's of a dying species in the current climate.