#just rambling my thoughts i wish i could draw or write about

[azurechicken]

Sometimes I think about how long Tara would be reserved towards the Tav and how she wouldn't purr like a normal cat once even at the stage where Tav was allowed to touch/pet her but I imagine when she would slowly fall asleep and let out a little purr unconsciously and Tav would LOSE it and do a silence victory shout to the skies

[arolesbianism]

Thinking abt Sif Odile duo looping au again and I wanna be able to plot everything out more coherently but act 5 eternally looms overhead and boy I do not wanna look up

[warrenwaskilledbyadeer]

I literally can't draw to save my life, and more than that I hate drawing with a passion, yet I've always had very clear images for pieces of fanart in my head and always thought it was too bad I couldn't make them. But with Amnesia? Oh gosh with Amnesia. This fandom has made me create fanart in my head like no other, and for the first time in my entire life I wish I could draw, I wish I could draw so badly because I want to add to this incredible little world, I want to create and contribute!! I doubt a 22-year-old who can barely even draw a stick figure would be able to do it though; at the very least I wouldn't be able to for like bare minimum 3 years and it just makes me sad

[demonic0angel]

"If you give me a prompt I'll write it 😈" - Aight Bet.

Danny didn't expect his sister to have a pen pal, she said it's someone from nanda Parbat?? Danny doesn't know where the Fuck that is but everytime he sees the letter that was sent(those are some fancy lookin envelopes) he could feel rancid Ectoplasm lingering around them.

Jazz has already noticed but took no caution about it, Jazz said that she had a son, her name was Talia (No Mentioned Last name) and she was a very odd woman.

Danny listened to Jazz ramble on about her new "friend", Her son Damian which her pen pal had talked about and even sent a drawing of(how fancy). Danny WOULD investigate and dig deep into it since he's the ghost king and all but jazz explicitly told him not to.

....

Meanwhile, Jazz plans to meet her 'Penpal Friend' soon. She's very excited but still cautious, The way her friend talked about her situations was... Concerning to say the least and jazz shall use her psychiatrical expertise to help her!

[Danny is very concerned, Dan is Very Concerned 2.0, Dani says "Yuri."]

-A.E. 👻

(I’m gonna change the context of your ask a little so Jazz already knows Talia’s identity before she meets her again in person. Also, this got really long lmaooo)

Talia gave her a small nod when she saw her. She lifted her head to meet Jazz’s gaze as Jazz gave her a dazzling smile.

“Hello, Talia,” Jazz said, pushing her hair behind her ears. “You look lovely.”

Talia avoided her gaze and just hummed. She cleared her throat lightly and then said, gesturing to the hallway, “This way.”

Jazz followed her at a set pace and said, “It’s good seeing you again. How are you? Did you enjoy the candy I shipped over?”

Talia nodded. “Yes. I gave them to my son and he enjoyed them. Thank you very much.”

Jazz beamed. She did not ask the burning question in her heart. Was Talia alright? Her letters to her had become less and less frequent in the past year before the most recent message to her had been a barely disguised begging for Jazz to come see her.

Jazz didn’t mind; she loved seeing Talia, who was startlingly dangerous and hauntingly beautiful, but it still worried her. Talia was a strong woman, but she wasn’t invincible, even with that pool of rancid ectoplasmic bath water. (She shuddered just thinking about it. She needed to ask Danny to wipe them out before Talia could hurt herself again using them.)

“Where are we going?” Jazz asked, glancing around. They were inside of a nice, expensive looking condo in Spain.

Talia paused in front of a door. She hesitated before she said slowly, “Jazz… I have valued your friendship greatly. In the last few years, you have become someone very dear to me. However, as you are already aware, I am in a dangerous position in my home. I do not wish to endanger you, especially since you are a civilian. If you do not wish to take this journey with me, then… you should turn around now.”

Jazz chuckled. How cute that Talia thought that Jazz was a helpless civilian. However, it had been Jazz who had accidentally enforced that idea within Talia’s mind. It was a little too late to correct that notion though, so Jazz just shook her head softly and tried to look reassuring for Talia.

“It’s too late for that.” She reached out to hold Talia’s hand, scarred and weathered from fighting, squeezing slightly. “I will accompany you and help you however I can.”

Talia nodded again, looking away. “Thank you… beloved.”

Jazz tilted her head curiously at the title, but did not say a word. Talia then opened the door and Jazz’s eyebrows rose as she stared at a young boy with similar features to the woman beside her. He scowled at her, but it just looked cute with his round cheeks.

Jazz turned to Talia. She already had an inkling, but she wanted to confirm. “This is…?”

“My son,” Talia said, “His name is Damian. And I earnestly beg you to take him in for me.”

“What! But mother!” Damian stood up and shouted, while Jazz’s eyebrows shot up again.

Talia gave him a light glare. She turned back to Jazz and it was cute how she had to look up at her. “My father is increasing pressure on us, and he is training Damian even harder. If this continues, Damian’s life could be in danger. I would’ve left him with his father, but Bruce’s lifestyle is… not what I want for Damian. Please, could you take him in, beloved?”

Damian shut his mouth with a click and both Al Ghuls stared at Jazz with wide eyes, one beseeching and one shocked.

Jazz smiled and reached out to hold Talia’s hand again. It was really nice to hold, and warm too. “Of course. You don’t have to worry, Talia. Like I’ve said, you can depend on me.”

Talia beamed. “Thank you, beloved.” She flipped Jazz’s hand and kissed the back of it softly. Jazz blushed. It felt strangely… intimate? But who was Jazz to judge? Maybe it was a League of Assassins custom! Or something! She didn’t get to meet Talia often, usually just exchanging weekly letters, so how would she know?

Talia turned back to Damian, still holding Jazz’s hand and said, “She will be your new caretaker. She is very important to me and you can trust her with your life. Call her… mom.”

Jazz side eyed Talia, but did not dispute it. Maybe it was some sort of spy plan? Like a code name? It would make more sense when a woman and a young boy were together for them to be mother and son.

Jazz also turned to Damian and let go of Talia’s hand to walk over to him slowly, keeping an open posture and friendly smile on her face.

Damian eyed Jazz as she approached and then knelt down respectfully before him. She smiled. “Hello, Damian. I’m Jazz, and I hope we can get along.”

Damian looked at his mother. They had some sort of silent conversation that Jazz did not understand, before Damian turned back to her. “Yes… it’s nice to meet you too… mom.”

Jazz smiled. “I’ll take care of you.”

Damian sniffed. “I certainly hope so.” He tried to look haughty, but he was so short compared to Jazz that it once again looked adorable and pouty.

Yep. It was official. Her siblings were going to eat him alive.

Jazz looked back at Talia, who was staring at them both with a soft expression. Strangely, the gentle look made Jazz’s stomach flutter.

Weird. Was she growing sick?

Talia blinked, noticing her gaze. “Is there something wrong, beloved?”

Jazz coughed at the nickname again. Damian eyed her like she was a walking disease and Talia just looked more and more worried. “Nope! So, uh, what’s the official plan?”

She stared at Talia, who just blinked and hummed, pursing her red, kissable lips.

Yep. Definitely sick.

(Talia: Heh! Cool, calm, and collected, with a dash of vulnerability! I’m definitely showing my best side to my beloved, Jazz! She’s so much better than that emotionally constipated Bruce!

Jazz: *completely and utterly oblivious to any advances made by another woman* Wow, Talia is so pretty today too. Surely, it is normal to want to hold hands and kiss another girl because she’s so pretty 😃 I wonder why she wants her kid to call me mom? 😃

Damian: …. Two moms? Is this my birthday?)

[babygirlwritessmut]

♡︎ part3. birthday sleepover

・❥・pairing: vi (arcane) x fem!reader

・❥・ summary: throughout the night of your birthday sleepover, you found yourself feeling increasingly drawn to Vi, who subtly reciprocated with gentle touches and closeness.

・❥・ genre: smut + kinda friends to lovers

・❥・ word count: 2k

✎ warnings: none

WHEN I NEEDED YOU masterlist

all week, Troy kept his distance. it seemed he was genuinely scared of Vi. you saw him in the hall, but he didn’t look at you once. still, you were nervous about what he might do to get back at you.

things were good at college; you were wrapping up your subjects and spending afternoons at Trish’s, planning your birthday. today, before classes, the two of you were at your house making invitations.

“write that everyone should bring pajamas,” Trish said, drawing stars on the invitations. it was your idea - the stars reminded you of Vi. “and I’m choosing the movie; I don’t want to watch any action films.”

you just rolled your eyes. “fine, but no ‘notebook’. I’ve memorized that by heart.”

you were both laughing when your mom walked into your room.

“the invitations look great. how many girls are coming? I need to know how much food to prepare.” your parents were fine with the pajama party at home; you’d agreed they’d go to your grandma’s to give you the space.

“six - Trish and I, and four more from college.” you counted the invitations.

“but I think it should be seven,” Trish smiled at your mom. “she’s just too shy to invite Vi.”

“Trish!” you pushed her arm.

“why not? it sounds like you two have become close lately. you talk about her all the time. besides, I haven’t seen her since she was a kid,” your mom chimed in.

“exactly! it’s all Vi this, Vi that - all day long,” Trish teased, laughing.

“ha-ha. very funny,” you replied sarcastically. “I don’t think she’d come, though.”

“you'll never know if you don't invite her,” your mom said, leaving the room and closing the door behind her.

“could you stop embarrassing me in front of my mom? she already doesn’t believe that Vi and I aren’t dating,” you whispered to your friend.

“no wonder,” Trish whispered back.

you gave in and made an extra invitation for Vi. then, the two of you headed to college.

after the first class, you ran into Vi in the hallway. she was wearing her sports gear, her hair a bit messy, but she looked incredibly attractive.

“hey,” you said, genuinely happy to see her, giving her a big smile.

“hey, how’s it going?” she replied, smiling back. you loved her smile, especially her lips.

“I wanted to give you this.” you handed her the invitation. “it’s my birthday tomorrow, and I’m having a sleepover with some friends at my place. nothing fancy, just movies and a little gathering. my mom will make us a nice dinner,” you said, rubbing your hands nervously, worried she’d say no. maybe it was a bad idea?

Vi looked at the invitation carefully and smiled. “thanks, I’ll definitely come.”

“really? if you have other plans, I won’t be upset,” you started to ramble.

“I’ll be there,” she repeated confidently, reaching out to touch your hand. a warm rush spread through your whole body, and your eyes darted around from the tension. feeling her touch was strangely comforting, and you didn’t want it to end. but somehow, you got self-conscious about your reaction, said goodbye, and hurried home.

that evening, you and your mom decorated the living room and prepared for the next day’s party. spending time with her made you appreciate her even more as you watched how much she cared for you and your dad. once everything was ready, she kissed your forehead and wished you sweet dreams. then you headed to your room, thoughts about tomorrow filling you with excitement until you fell asleep.

in the morning, your parents entered your room with a cake lit with candles.

“I can’t believe you’re growing up so fast, my dear daughter. I thought I’d stop crying after you turned eighteen last year, but I can’t help it,” your mom said, holding out the cake as you blew out the candles.

they wished you a happy birthday, showering you with warm wishes, and handed you a small black box with a ribbon. when you opened it, you gasped in surprise.

“mom, dad, I… I don’t even know what to say,” you whispered, carefully taking out what was inside. in your hands were car keys. “thank you, thank you, thank you!” you hugged them tightly.

after a few more minutes, your parents left, giving you some time to get ready. in high spirits, you picked out your pajamas. knowing Vi would be there tonight, you couldn’t ignore the fact that you wanted to look a little better than usual for a simple pajama party. you settled on short shorts and a tank top - nothing too fancy, but just enough to show off a bit. once dressed, you ran downstairs.

all day, you kept rearranging decorations, setting up pillows and plates, wanting everything to be perfect. in between, you kept answering calls and texts with birthday wishes.

when evening finally arrived, you said goodbye to your parents. they wished you all a great night, and you sat down to wait for the guests. within half an hour, everyone had arrived except for Vi. you started to worry that she might have changed her mind, but Trish reassured you.

“maybe she's just late from practice or choosing your gift,” your friend said, noticing the concern in your eyes.

then, the doorbell rang. you glanced at Trish with a big smile and rushed to open the door. there stood Vi, looking stunning, her pink hair neatly styled, muscular arms visible under her shirt, and a slight smile on her face. your gaze landed on her lips again.

“I was starting to think you’d decided not to come,” you blurted out, unable to hide your worry.

“sorry for being late.” she stepped inside and hugged you, her scent filling the air as you hugged her back. being in her arms felt amazing; her touch stirred something in you, and you bit your lip. “happy birthday; this is for you,” she said as you reluctantly pulled away, handing you a small gift bag.

you began to open it right there, warmth flooding you as you saw a small box containing a star-shaped necklace.

“Vi, it’s amazing. thank you." you ran your finger over the charm. “would you help me?” you took out the necklace and handed it to her.

turning your back to Vi, you moved your hair aside, exposing your neck. she carefully fastened the necklace, and as her fingers brushed your skin, you felt a warm tension low in your belly. when she was done, you turned back to her. “how does it look?”

“you look beautiful” she wasn’t even looking at the necklace, only at your eyes. in that moment, you wanted her to kiss you. Vi slowly moved closer, placing her hand on your cheek, and you leaned toward each other, hearts racing. you held her gaze, neither of you breaking eye contact.

“are you two coming? we’re starting the movie,” Trish called out from the living room.

you blinked, and Vi pulled her hand back, giving you space. “we should go. I wouldn’t want to keep the birthday girl from her own party.”

you looked down and murmured, “maybe the birthday girl wouldn’t mind.” Vi smiled, and the two of you joined the others.

you and Vi sat next to each other on the couch, with the other girls settled on the floor among the cushions. Trish started the movie, and the viewing began. you couldn't focus on the film while Vi was so close, her leg touching yours. you weren’t sure if she noticed, but it sent flutters through you. thoughts drifted back to what had happened by the front door - had your first kiss nearly happened? the very idea took your breath away. what if Trish hadn't interrupted?

then you felt Vi’s leg press closer against yours. without a word, you moved just a little closer to her. you didn't dare turn to look, afraid of how she might react. the girls laughed at a joke in the movie you hadn’t even heard; your attention was locked on your knees, touching hers. then, suddenly, her hand rested on your knee. you held your breath, feeling like the room had emptied and it was just the two of you. checking to make sure no one was watching, you decided to act. you placed your hand over hers, intertwining your fingers and smiling to yourself. you took in her hand, the veins running along her arm, the few rings on her thumb and middle finger - it was a sight you didn't want to let go of.

she squeezed your leg slightly, making you bite your lip. the girls were still engrossed in the movie, oblivious to what was happening. slowly, Vi leaned toward you, tucking a stray strand of your hair behind your ear. she leaned closer, placing a soft kiss in the hollow between your neck and collarbone and whispered in your ear, “this necklace suits you so well.” a wave of satisfaction ran through you from the sound of her voice. you slowly turned to face her, close enough to smell her scent.

“thank you,” you whispered back, making her smile. she looked so good that thoughts filled your mind, and you felt yourself blush, biting your lip again. what is she doing?

the two of you held hands until the movie ended, and then you reluctantly let go. as the girls began chatting about various gossip, you served dinner and invited everyone to the table. during dinner, everyone was animatedly talking, but you kept catching Vi’s gaze across the table. she only looked at you.

“I heard someone beat up Troy at college - is that true?” one of the girls asked, and you snapped your attention to her.

“apparently, he claimed it was a football injury,” Trish added, and you and Vi exchanged a knowing glance.

“do you know anything about it?” all eyes turned to you.

“no, we’re not together anymore, and I don’t follow his life,” you replied curtly.

“what happened between you two?” the girls’ questions made you uncomfortable. you explained that he hadn’t been faithful and asked to change the subject.

after dinner, you cleaned up and returned to the living room. you all stayed up late, chatting while Vi shared stories about her team and games. all the girls listened intently, some even openly admiring her, which made you feel a sting of jealousy. finally, when everyone was tired, you decided to get ready for bed. you set up sleeping arrangements for the girls in the living room, and some chose to sleep in your parents' room. after saying goodnight and getting one last round of birthday wishes, you made your way upstairs.

“where should I sleep?” Vi suddenly asked from behind you. you realized you’d forgotten to set up a spot for her, and all the other sleeping spaces were taken.

“sorry, I just... let’s go to my room,” you said, leading her upstairs. “I miscalculated the spots. you can take my bed, and I’ll sleep on the floor.”

Vi smiled. “you’re going to sleep on the floor in your own room? I’ll take the floor.”

“no way, you’re the guest, and I want you to be comfortable,” you insisted. “take the bed.”

“alright, but only if you do too,” Vi said, crossing her arms. “I’m not letting you sleep on the floor.”

her suggestion caught you off guard, but the thought of spending the night in the same bed as her was appealing.

“alright,” you agreed.

Vi started taking off her shirt, and you asked, “what are you doing?”

“changing into pajamas. isn’t this a pajama party?” she grinned as you tried to avert your eyes from her toned abs. then she teased, “are you going to keep watching, or…?”

you turned around, waiting until she was done. soon you felt her hand on your waist, and she leaned in to whisper, “we should go to bed?”

her touch left you speechless, so you only nodded. you wondered if she felt the same way you did when she touched you. you both got into bed, and Vi asked, “did you like your birthday?”

“I enjoyed it. I’m glad Trish convinced me to do this,” you said, pulling the blanket over yourself.

“glad to hear it. goodnight.” Vi gently traced a finger along your cheek, smiling. “happy birthday, and thank you for inviting me.”

[swiftiethatlovesf1]

Gorgeous

Hii, since Lewis won today I thought I would write this one-shot inspired by Taylor Swift's gorgeous, I hope you enjoy it.

Even in the dimly lit club, his presence was undeniable, his magnetic energy drawing you in. You couldn't help but blatantly check him out—his silver jewellery catching the light, his unbuttoned shirt showcasing his sculpted chest. He looked so gorgeous, it felt almost unfair—unfair because he wasn't yours.

You've had a crush on Lewis for a while, ever since you started working for the media team at Mercedes. You’ve chatted a few times, but you never expected him to remember you. He's a world champion, and you... well, you're just you. But with alcohol coursing through your veins, you can't help but wish he was interested in you too.

After chatting with your colleagues—and simultaneously avoiding him—you make your way to the bar to order another drink. What you don't notice is a set of curious brown eyes following your every move. It's not until you feel his presence behind you that your heart starts to race.

"Whiskey on ice, please," Lewis orders at the bar, his voice sending shivers down your spine. As you silently pray that he'll ignore you, he says, "Are you having a good time, Y/N?"

You stare at him, speechless, until you manage to find your voice. "Yeah, it's a nice party. Congratulations on your win—you deserve it."

"Thanks, it was a team effort, honestly. I thought you might have forgotten, since you’ve been talking to everyone here but me," he says cheekily, sitting down on the stool next to yours.

A blush spreads across your face. "I didn't think you would notice."

Shockingly, his hand reaches out to gently caress yours. "I notice you more than you think. How you always welcome any member of the team with a smile, how you carry vegan dog snacks for Roscoe, how you tie your hair in a ponytail when you're stressed, and how you always avoid my gaze whenever I look at you."

Is this a dream, you wonder? "Lewis, the thing is," you take a deep breath, "I like you. How could I not? You're kind, charismatic, gorgeous, and not just a great driver, but also a great person." You ramble nervously, avoiding his stare.

"Y/N, look at me," he says, cradling your face in his hands, a smile gracing his handsome features. "I've liked you since you first started working for Mercedes, but I thought I was doing you a favor by keeping my distance. You're younger than me, and we work on the same team. I didn't want rumors to spread and make things difficult for you. We both know how cruel the media can be. But since I decided to leave Mercedes, I've been thinking about us. Tonight's win reminded me that anything is possible, and if I can make something possible, I want it to be us. So, what I'm trying to say is, would you be mine, Y/N?"

Your answer is yes. Maybe it's the alcohol, or the happiness from his revelation, but all you can do is kiss him. Despite the packed club, it feels like it's only you and Lewis, especially when he kisses you back with equal fervor. When you finally pull away, breathless, he chuckles. "I guess this is a yes?"

"Wasn't I clear? Maybe I need to kiss you again to make it clearer," you tease, leaning in for another kiss. Kissing him for the second time that night, and surely not the last.

[myokk]

I had so much fun writing this up as I drank my coffee this morning, thanks for making the templates @kiwiplaetzchen 🥹🙏

A little bit of backstory for Eloise - I’ll do an actual drawing etc etc in the future but for now if you’re interested!!:

Eloise has a brother, Leonard (Leo) who is a year older than her (I want to draw him soon!!) and her parents are both (unfortunately 😔🙏) still very much alive. If the family had continued to the 1930s, they would DEFINITELY have been part of the Sacred 28, making it the Sacred 29 instead. Her father was an only child so he inherited everything, and her mother is Elladora Babbit née Black, the woman who started the Black family tradition of beheading useless house elves😭 (and yes unfortunately that makes Headmaster Black Eloise’s uncle😫).

Eloise was kept a secret from the rest of magic society her whole life. In my imagination, the pureblood families have so much inbreeding amongst themselves that it’s not uncommon for them to give birth to squibs. Part of pureblood culture is not announcing they’ve given birth to a child until they’ve shown signs of magic - normally around 3/4 years old at most. When Eloise never showed ANY signs of magic, she was just their shameful secret. On her eleventh birthday when it was all but confirmed she was a squib, she was burned off the family tree and spent the next five years at a muggle finishing school. Always looking to take advantage of whatever they could get, however, Eloise’s parents arranged a marriage between her and the firstborn son of a wealthy muggle landowner when she came of age.

Her family had no idea that she was admitted to Hogwarts (they cut off all ties to her and disowned her) and Leo, who had always been fiercely protective of her growing up was simultaneously devastated and ecstatic that he could see his sister again. It’s been really hard to repair the relationship though, as there is a lot of resentment that they cannot get over even though they want to😭. And, for as much as her parents dictated everything about how her life has gone, Eloise can’t help but try to work hard to get their love and approval as it’s all she ever thought she wanted. And now that she’s in a position to become the daughter they’ve always desired, she feels a lot of resentment towards herself. She feels as if she’s betraying the young girl who was abandoned by her family, because she wants their approval so badly (it will take a while for her to get over this😔🙏)

In terms of the personality I did it a bit like the sims where I just max things out bc I think everything in the middle is boring jajajaja. But:

Shy: not shy in the sense she can’t talk to other people and she isn’t necessarily socially awkward. She just doesn’t always know what to say and will remain silent if she thinks she has nothing to add to a conversation instead of yapping away (BUT unfortunately rambles and over explains herself to not be misunderstood when she does talk, THANKS narcissistic mother), and normally she wishes people would ignore her. When the Daily Prophet article came out about her “miraculous” recovery and introduction to magical society she HATED it & she HATES all of the people trying to talk to her and befriend her.

Active: NOT active as in super energetic. She just wakes up really early and always needs to keep herself busy. She gets anxious if she doesn’t have anything to do - but, she includes thinking as doing something, and often retreats into her thoughts and doesn’t realize when people are talking to her.

I think grouchy and nice can exist together so with this one I put it in the middle. She’s both simultaneously😭

Aaaand with cowardly/brave, she thinks she is really cowardly for going back to her parents so easily and wanting their love so badly, and hates herself for it (not realizing it’s an accumulation of a lifetime of emotional trauma). But lots of times when things get very high-stakes she will jump in and do incredibly reckless things without thinking of the consequences, although if she stopped to think before she acted she would definitely NOT do them. So maybe brave in actions, cowardly on the inside (IDK)

If you read all of this I love you!! I want to share more about her but this was getting crazy long jajajajajajaja😇🙏

[artsymeeshee]

Hello! I just found your laundry list of art last week, and I have to say…I LOVE IT! Love the instinct comics, Ford being cool never ceases to make me giggle, and I loved the autumn drawing. I’ll admit, that one had me in tears…made be believe in the what-if’s of my own family. What they…could be like someday. Or what I wish they were. Thanks for the tears, they were much needed.

 Anyway! This is what I came to message you about! Although,…I am extremely sorry for the late message. I tend to check back into tumblr at…weird hours of the night. Heck, it’s almost the next day as I type this. I seriously need to sleep more. So! I had a few thoughts on Stan and Ford relationship, and I wanted to hear your thoughts on it. Just a disclaimer, I’m kinda basing this off my actual life as I find these characters mirror personal events very closely! I am also a writer and soon to be author! Might post some archive of our own content about these two soon. Also, and this is the most important, I have NOT read book of Bill yet. So plz…no spoilers. Anyway, long introduction aside, let’s begin!

In my personal head cannon of these two, which I don’t imagine is “too” different than how anyone else could see them, Stan and Ford have an extremely awkward and emotional conversation after Weirdmagedon. Why? B/c they’re both, to some degree, emotionally numb. In my opinion, why wouldn’t they? They haven’t spoken to each other in 40 years, properly, and they have repressed a ton of their emotions since then. It’s hard to bring that back up. (Speaking off of experience) I’d say even harder for Ford. Stan, thanks to the twins, has learned to loosen the locks on his heart while Ford kept running away from those emotions to defeat Bill. Just like his ambitions, that was the main priority, and everything else later. To me, this would explain why Ford never bothered to talk to Stan properly since coming back during the show. He wouldn’t know how to. If they were to talk, and this is where the writer in me comes out, I’d write Ford as the one that needs it most. He’s been traveling dimension for decades, running from the past that held him back…but he has no anchor now. Stan becomes that anchor, paralleling what he wasn’t when Ford was lost. And Ford…he just breaks. Like, completely breaks. And Stan is there with him, breaking like he is, but still there for him brother. Finally back after all those years apart. And as someone who has been on the side of neglect from one’s own brother…nothing would be me happier if we went to connect. Just like Stanley and Ford. And eventually, soon to be sailing on the seas to connect even more.

Phew…that was a lot. Sorry for the rambling. Told you I had some ideas! So, what do you think? Do you see Ford acting like this? If not…why? Genuinely, I’d like to know. Anyway, thanks for taking your time to read this. Again, sorry for the ramblings. Oh! One more thing, I know you aren’t taking art request right now, but would you be open to take them in the future? Say in 2 months time? Anyway, bye!

Well first off, thank you! I appreciate it! :D

And to answer your headcanon, I agree on it. Stan is definitely more open to talking, especially thanks to the kids. I mean there's still moments where it's hard and awkward for sure. And Ford would for sure have a harder time opening up, especially with the constant guilt and mistakes that replay over and over. And there's always that lingering feeling of "well, Stan has to hate me for what I've done" and it's always so surprising when Stan tells him differently and he never once hated Ford. Sure, was angry but never hated him. He had too much self-hatred to feel that way with Ford. And as many times as it needs to be said or repeated, it really makes all the difference when they tell each other how much they love and care for each other. As Alex said, "they're both so damaged, they desperately need each other."

As for the requests thing, most likely not. Only because I'm entering the busiest time of year for my work so it's gonna be a miracle if I even have enough energy or motivation for drawing if I'm not completely burnt out.

[writerwrabbleswords]

Hi! I saw your request were open and I just found your fics and I love them! I lost my childhood dog this weekend and I was wondering if you could write a Logan x trans male reader where he comforts the reader if you want to!

Hello, dear Requester! I can do this for you! (This wasn't specifically centered around Reader being transgender, however if you'd like a version where it is, feel free to shoot me another request!)

---

| A Need at Night | Wolverine/Logan Howlett X [Trans-man] Reader

  An awful day made better by your lover, who simply holds you close

Quick Notes :  This is my first attempt at writing from the Reader's perspective! My apologies for this taking so long, I’ve been a tad busy in my daily life, so this had to be put to the side. However, I have finally completed it! Requester, I hope this is able to provide some comfort for you. I’m terribly sorry for your loss - a beloved pet is a part of the family - and I wish you the best for your time recovering from such an event :[ 

  Story Details :  Roughly 700 words, Reader is referred to as ‘You/Your,’ Reader is a trans-man but body parts are described neutrally (general statement), Reader is on Testosterone (not a focal point), Logan is a softie for Reader, Cuddling, lots of fluff but a bit of angst at the beginning,

  You had been having a rough day. Not only had you woken up late for work, you’d also hit your head rolling out of bed, nearly slipped in the shower, put your shirt on backwards, and to top it off, work had been utter shit. 

 So now here you were, laying in Logan and yours shared bed with the TV on - playing some random show you’d put on without really looking at what it was - and most of you covered in the thick, fluffy comforter you kept on the bed. It didn’t seem to be helping your crappy mood much, but at least the feeling of warmth it gave you made the day just a tad more bearable. 

  Logan wasn’t home yet, and you’d already messaged him that you didn’t feel up to cooking and that he could pick up something on the way home (preferably something greasy and comforting, like pizza). To your disappointment, he hadn’t responded, most likely wrapped up in the damn X-Men meeting he’d told complained to you about before you’d left for work that morning. You loved Logan dearly - you really did - but his grumbling and huffing had only tripped up your day further; instead of exchanging your usual ‘good morning’ kiss and sharing a pot of coffee, you instead had to rush out the door while he dragged himself after your hurried form.

  The sound of the front door creaking open drew you from your thoughts, the familiar scent of cigar smoke drifting into the bedroom. Speak of the devil and he shall appear…

  Groaning softly, you covered your eyes with your arm and rolled over so your back was facing the door. You just wanted to wallow in your self-pity until you fell asleep - maybe cry about your bad day a little - but now you had to deal with your lover. 

  A frown was etched on your face when the door to your bedroom was pushed open, Logans’ heavy steps echoing through the room as he approached your grumpy form.

  “I brought home takeout,” He stated bluntly, kicking off his shoes as he climbed into the bed beside you.

  You grunted, glaring at the wall in annoyance as Logan immediately scooped you into his arms, holding you against his form as he buried his face in your hair. A rumbling sound pulled itself from the mutants’ chest, and reluctantly, you relaxed into his form. As if sensing your heavy mood, Logans’ hands trailed down your sides in that subtle way that always seemed to draw your focus out of your thoughts.

  “Rough day?” He murmured softly, resting his chin in the crook of your neck as his eyes drifted towards the TV. 

  The only thing you could do was groan in reply. 

 Logan gave a huff of amusement, simply enjoying your closeness in a way that was so common for the two of you; he’d hold you close and you’d rant or ramble about the day. It was a routine you’d come to enjoy, even now, when you were so cranky and annoyed that you wanted to grumble at the man.

  “It was awful,” You said at last, brows furrowed in frustration as you rested your head against the pillow, “Work was shit. My boss was practically on my ass my entire shift and I couldn’t get my list of things done!”

  The mutant hummed for you to continue, one of his arms coming up to slip beneath your head so you were laying against him instead. At the motion, your irritation faded somewhat; it was nice to be held.

  “I had a pounding headache from hitting my head this morning,” your voice was softer - less aggravated - as you relaxed fully into your lover’s hold, “and I just wanted to sleep today…”

  You trailed off, expression weary as you let your eyes drift closed. The mutant was quiet after you finished speaking, the hand not beneath your head slowly running up and down your side comfortingly; he was always there for you, and this was no different.

  “Rest, love of mine. I’m here for you,” Logan murmured gently, placing a small kiss against your skin, “I’m here.”

[vvanillavveins]

On the WTNV finale:

Look, i like Brinknor. They helped me fall back in love with Night Vale when i was feeling particularly uninspired. It's hard to put it into words; i have adhd & i struggle to remember big intricate plots unless something reoccurring has really grabbed hold of my attention, and before Brinknor, i was struggling to sink my teeth into anything attention-holding, so to speak. I guess i was becoming less enthusiastic in Night Vale's storyline as time went on, even though i couldn't really work out why. I just couldn't stop tuning out. But, with Brinknor, there came a bunch of shiny new plotpoints- at a faster pace. The show could actually hold my focus properly, and my wtnv fixation was suddenly up & running again.

All this is to say that i know it's just my impatience talking when i say that i wish that the loose ends of those new, interesting plotpoints had been tied up a little more by episode 250. I adore the way they write about Cecil's childhood and his family, and i want Kevin & The Boy's arc to be given the same amount of love, and attention, and time that the Palmer siblings' arc got. The same goes for Tamika. And Carlos. And Lauren, actually. Yes, i know she was a central figure in the last 2 episodes, and i loved that because she's one of my favourite characters. I fucking adore eldritch Mother Lauren. But still, it was all too vague to really learn anything new about her or the desert otherworld. And, above all else, i can't help but think of how wonderful it would've been if Charles and Donovan were included in the finale- especially Donovan.

When Kevin first came back in 2023, one of my silly little hcs as to why he was apparently in the Smiling God's bad books (and why he didn't mention Charles or Donovan) was that because Charles & Donovan aren't from Desert Bluffs they haven't devoted themselves to the Smiling God like the rest of the townsfolk. They wouldn't "smile" properly. One of my darker ideas at the time was the possibility of Kevin having to choose between making them part of his faith, i.e., making them "smile" like the rest of Desert Bluffs (which i doubt he'd go through with after his mudstone abyss arc), or having Charles & Donovan leave town (which i doubt they'd go through with), or, doing neither & keeping quiet about his life with them to avoid drawing attention. If he chose the latter and then got found out, it would make sense that he'd stop being the Smiling God's favourite. Obviously, i never thought any of that was correct- i was just having fun- and i was excited to find out the real story further down the line.

But that didn't happen, and we still don't really have many answers. Everything to do with Kevin, and Lauren, and The Boy got wrapped up in about 10 minutes flat. We've already had an emotional Fatherhood themed episode with Cecil & Abby; we didn't need another one just for the sake of it.

With the context of what we already know about Kevin's father, the ending of episode 250 was just uncomfortable. Sure, Kevin's talked about his father positively before, but that's always been in contrast with the actual content of his memories. It's always been made clear that the script/the writers disagree with Kevin's sunny outlook, and therefore the listeners should too. Those moments are there to demonstrate just how fucked up Kevin really is, and that his positivity is just a coping mechanism. But this time Cecil spoke for him, so we didn't get Kevin's usual sing-song rambling. It was calm, and collected, and matter-of-factly. And this time there were no sugar-coated descriptions of abuse, only genuine praise. We were actually supposed to agree with him this time, and it made the whole speech (and ending) sound hollow and forced.

I really didn't like this episode. It felt rushed. It tried to cover far too much far too quickly, and it failed. But, despite all that, i am hoping that future episodes will bring some sort of clarity about what happened. And hopefully some closure about Kevin and his family, too. I want loose ends to get tied up properly and i believe that maybe, with time, the important ones will be. Slow burning subplots are kinda quintessential to Night Vale's writing at this point anyway. Brinknor definitely missed the mark with this one, but they're still incredibly talented writers and i'm not ready to give up on them like some of the other fans on here.

Besides, i think that some of Night Vale's worst episodes are still incredible pieces of writing in their own right. The bad episodes are only bad in comparison to the dozens upon dozens of absolutely phenomenal episodes that make up the rest of a show that is, for the most part, a joy to listen to. So, here's to some hopefully better episodes in the future, i guess.

[shmaptainwrites]

𝐌𝐘 𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆, 𝐌𝐘 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐑 — 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝟏 [𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐋𝐄𝐓 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐔𝐒]

PAIRINGS — Violet Bridgerton x Marcus Anderson

SUMMARY — Marcus' children are finally in town, and Violet finally gets the chance to meet them.

WORD COUNT — 5.2K

WARNINGS — some descriptions of anxious behaviours throughout

NOTE — Again, as promised, here's another fic of these two lovelies! In two parts (for two reasons), but also mainly just to keep you on your toes ;) not me finally posting this like a month after writing it

Violet could have sworn the lump beginning to form in her throat was her heart, making its way out of her chest to remind her of the sobering reality of what was before her. She paced back and forth in the main entry hall of Danbury house, her hands firmly pressed against her stomach to try and suppress her lunch that was attempting to make a reappearance. 

Her thoughts swirled in her head, like a tornado beginning to form, threatening to destroy everything in its path. It had become so all consuming, that she didn’t notice two pairs of eyes watching carefully over her from a distance, voices hushed and concerned. 

“I have never seen her like this before,” Marcus whispered to Agatha, who had pursed her lips and gripped onto the head of her cane tightly as she watched her friend continue to pace. 

“She is nervous.” 

“I can see that,” Marcus rolled his eyes at his older sister’s obvious comment. 

“Then why are you standing here?” 

She looked up at him with a piercing glare. 

“Trust me, my voice is not the one that will soothe her right now,” she added, this time a little softer. 

Marcus nodded his head and carefully made his way out from the hallway where they were conveniently hidden from Violet’s view. Agatha turned around and made her way to the drawing room, giving them some much needed privacy.

Violet did not notice Marcus making his way towards her. He reached out a hand to touch her shoulder, but she yelped and jumped back, her hand moving from her stomach to her chest to now steady her erratic breathing. 

“I-Marcus,” she breathed. “I am sorry, you startled me.” 

She resumed her pacing, her hand retreating back to her stomach, the other patting her hair to ensure everything was neatly in place. She clearly didn’t realize Marcus was there for her. 

“Violet?” 

She spun around at the sound of his voice, her eyes wide and owlish, her nervousness seeping from every pore and creating a thick fog of anxiety around the room. 

“Would you like to talk about it?” 

This had become common practice over the past months. Marcus didn’t ever bother asking what was wrong, but instead dropping all such formalities and heading straight to the root of the problem, allowing her to process if she so wished, and oftentimes, she did wish to. 

“I suppose, maybe we should…before going in there.” 

Her eyes drifted towards the drawing room and she gulped, almost audibly.

“It is just…” her voice drifted off, like she was going into a trance staring down the hallway that seemed to get longer and longer with every passing second. 

“It is just, what, my dear?” 

Violet closed her eyes as the sound of his rich and velvety voice made its way to her ears, dampening the unease that surrounded her. 

“I do not know what I am to do, Marcus. Do I stand? Do I sit? How do I introduce myself? Must I explain our situation?” She rambled and began pacing again, only for Marcus to close some of the distance between them, taking her shoulders in his hands, first, to stop her, before tracing them down her arms and holding her hands in his. 

“Violet, Violet, Violet,” he repeated, pulling her out of her continued ramblings, her voice quieting as she looked up at him. 

“What if they do not like me?” she whispered. 

Marcus looks down at their intertwined hands, his thumb brushing over the betrothal ring, tracing the jewel at its centre, something purple for his Violet. 

“I find it quite hard to believe they would dislike you,” he began. “After all, I like you very much and they are my children. Perhaps we should think that they take after their father in this manner.” 

“Marcus, that does not-” 

“Violet, look at me, please.” 

She silenced herself and looked up at him, her blue eyes big and shimmering with worry. 

“You are a wonderful woman who is kind, and cares for others in a way I did not know was possible until I met you. My children are not unreasonable people, they wish for me to be happy, and I am most happy when I am with you.” 

Violet swallowed thickly and nodded her head. 

“I love you,” he whispered. 

“I love you too.” 

She pushed herself up on her toes to give him a quick and gentle kiss, hoping the familiar feeling of his lips against hers would quell whatever remaining insecurities she held close to her heart.

“Are you ready to go in there, or do you need another moment?” He asked, his thumbs continuing to brush soothingly over her fingers. 

“One more moment,” she whispered, leaning a little closer to him, and he complied by wrapping his arms around her in a quiet embrace, knowing at this point no one was watching, and nobody cared. 

Violet took one last deep breath and thanked Marcus, informing him she was now ready to head over to the drawing room. 

He offered his hand for her, which she took, and allowed him to lead her down the hallway and into the room she had been avoiding all afternoon. 

When she entered, there was a quiet chatter that hushed immediately, and she became very aware of the many pairs of eyes that seemed to burn into her very soul. Marcus sensed her nervousness returning, and squeezed her hand, bringing her back to the present. 

Everyone in the room seemed unsure of what to do, which is when Agatha decided to helpfully interject.

“Did your father and mother not teach you any manners? You are adults, go on, introduce yourselves,” she pointed to her nephew and two nieces with her cane. 

The younger girl stood up first, one hand moving to rest on her growing stomach while a radiant smile came across her face. Violet couldn’t help but notice how much she looked like her father, the same shining eyes and welcoming disposition. 

“Amelia Kilpatrick, my Lady,” she attempted to curtsy and Violet quickly let go of Marcus’ hand to encourage her back up. 

“Oh no, none of that, my dear,” Violet shook her head. “I have had eight children, I know how heavy they can be, please let us excuse such formalities.” 

“Of course, my Lady,” she smiled. “It is good to finally meet you.” 

“And you as well,” she agreed, feeling her nerves slowly begin to melt away. 

Next was who Violet assumed was the eldest of the bunch. 

“James Anderson. A pleasure to meet you.” 

Violet held out her hand, initially to shake, but James took it and pressed a kiss to its back and she could have sworn she could feel a bashful heat rise to her cheeks. 

“Likewise,” she nodded. 

Lastly, a more timid woman whose curls simultaneously framed her face and seemed to know no bounds, which had Violet mesmerized. She couldn’t see too much of a similarity between her and Marcus which made her assume she looked more like her mother. Softer, large brown eyes, thinner lips, a pointed nose. 

“Evelyn Jacob, my Lady,” she said quietly and quickly curtsied, struggling to meet her gaze. 

Violet looked back at Marcus, but he shook his head assuring you this was normal. Perhaps she just took time to warm up. 

“Wonderful to meet you.” 

Violet gave her a smile which she wasn’t entirely sure Evelyn saw before retreating back to where Marcus stood and Agatha was sitting. 

She and Marcus took seats, near one another, but not quite next to each other and silence fell over the room once more.

“Uh Amelia,” Marcus began. “Will Seamus be joining us?” 

“He had some affairs to take care of, I’m afraid,” she sighed. “I was hoping he might make it back in time, but it seems business takes longer and longer these days.” 

“W-Will you be in London when you have the baby?” Violet asked and Amelia nodded her head. 

“My husband and I thought it may be nice to be around our family. Especially now that Papa and Aunt Agatha have reconciled. It is a special moment to share together.” 

“I could not agree more,” Violet nodded her head, her hands twisting nervously in her lap.

“And we could not miss the wedding.”

Violet smiled, but shifted uncomfortably in her seat. She wasn’t sure why. She was getting married and she was most excited, so why did she feel the need to squirm? 

“How did you both meet?” James asked. “We have heard a lot about you in letters from my father, but not quite the details on how everything came to be.”

Violet looked over at Marcus and noticed his eyes were already on her. The warmth behind his irises muffled her worries enough for a moment so that she could speak, but unable to tear her gaze away from her fiancé. 

“I dropped my glove,” she began, “at a ball and he picked it up.” 

“And the rest is history,” Marcus smiled. 

“Well not quite that quickly,” Agatha teased. “I do recall getting in your way once or twice.” 

“I thought we had moved past that,” Marcus looked over at his sister who simply smiled with a bit of cheek. 

“We have, but no story is without its obstacles,” she tapped her cane on the ground. “And I was not the only one keen to get in your way.”

Violet cringed thinking back to the time before she and Anthony were able to have a proper conversation about her relationship with Marcus. She always knew he was protective over their family, but she didn’t realize the extent until she was in the middle of it herself. 

“Your aunt refers to my eldest son,” Violet decided to share. “He had concerns, naturally, but unfortunately had a very… interesting way of expressing them.”

“So we are talking about this now,” Evelyn quietly muttered under her breath and Violet tensed up. 

“Evelyn,” Marcus chided. 

“N-No Marcus, it’s quite alright,” Violet looked over and gave him a polite smile. “Evelyn, may I call you that?”

She finally met Violet’s gaze, some of her shyness now gone and replaced by something colder and harsher. 

“There is clearly something that is not sitting right with you,” she said slowly. “If you are willing to share, I would like to know what it is.”

Evelyn looked over to her siblings, seeing the confusion in their faces and understanding that she would not be getting the support she thought she would get from them. 

“Everyone is so concerned over what my father’s intentions are with you, but has anyone ever asked what your intentions are with him?” she asked cooly.

“Tone, Evelyn. You can still be polite,” Marcus advised and she apologized. 

“I do not think I have been asked that yet,” Violet said truthfully. “M-May I ask what you think my intentions are?” 

Evelyn looked over to Amelia who seemed to send her a warning glance, not to continue down this road, but she did not listen. 

“You are a widow, are you not? Your eldest son is married now. It must feel quiet and…boring.” 

“Evelyn!” her sister attempted to interject and Violet steeled herself for what other sharp words were to come. 

“Before you were able to take on the role of Viscountess, and from what I hear you did your job quite well, but that position is no longer yours,” Evelyn continued. “It makes sense that you would be looking for a husband now and how convenient that my father was there, hopeful and looking for someone to share the rest of his life with.” 

“Evelyn, I think that is enough,” James whispered over to his sister, but her quietness had since completely vanished and was replaced by a fire in her eyes. 

“I do not believe that you love my father.” 

Violet took a deep breath, her hands placed firmly in her lap. The unrelenting swirling in her stomach had since returned and she knew she couldn’t stay in that room any longer. 

“I am sorry you feel that way,” she said quietly. “Marcus, Agatha, thank you so much for having me, but I think I should go now.” 

Violet stood up and rushed out of the room, not noticing the look of shock on Marcus’ face as he looked at his middle daughter before quickly standing up and assuring Agatha he would go take care of Violet if she would do the honour of staring down Evelyn until he returned. 

“Violet,” Marcus called. “Violet, wait.” 

Violet forced herself to stop, knowing an abrupt departure would not be fair for either of them. Marcus caught up to her and placed a hand on her shoulder, turning her around and noticing how she desperately was trying to fight back the tears welling in her eyes. 

“Marcus, I’m sorry, I-I need to leave.” 

Marcus pressed his lips together, a hand moving to rub the back of his neck. 

“Let me talk to her,” he said. “At least. Then we can speak again.” 

Violet nodded her head. 

“I-” 

She couldn’t say it, not after what Evelyn had just accused. 

“I know, I know,” Marcus assured and pulled her into his arms, squeezing her tightly, his lips pressing a comforting kiss to her hair.

His daughter’s reaction had caught him completely off guard. He knew this was exactly what Violet had feared and he had led her into it without warning. 

After a few moments, Violet let go of Marcus and began to make her way to the door, but not before he gently grabbed her wrist and pulled her back into his arms for a tender kiss. He hoped, if anything, it might assure her that his feelings towards her would always remain the same, no matter what was said, and that he still had hope that Evelyn could be reasoned with.

Marcus wiped away a few of Violet’s tears that had escaped, his forehead pressed against hers, both of their eyes closed and soaking in the proximity the moment afforded them. 

“Deep breaths. This isn’t the hardest conversation we’ve had to have,” Marcus assured and Violet couldn’t help but chuckle with a little bit of mirth. 

Violet sniffled and wiped away her remaining tears, her hands pressed against Marcus’ chest. 

“Call on me when you are ready to speak again,” she instructed and he nodded his head. 

With one last chaste kiss, they parted ways, and when the door closed behind Violet, Marcus turned back towards the drawing room, wondering if maybe that sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach was what his fiancée had felt only mere moments before. 

—

“Lady Bridgerton?” 

Violet looked up from her embroidery, so lost in her piece that she pricked herself with her needle when brought out of her trance. She sucked some air through her teeth, putting her finger in her mouth and looked up at Mrs. Wilson. 

“Yes?” 

“Are you alright-” 

“Just a needle prick, nothing to worry about,” she quickly interjected. “Is he here?” 

She nodded her head and Violet gave her permission to bring Marcus into the drawing room. 

Mrs. Wilson didn’t waste any time in leaving the two alone, knowing they would skip the formalities of tea and cake and move straight to conversation, especially when something of great importance needed to be discussed. 

Violet placed her embroidery to the side, paying no mind to the small droplet of blood that was forming on the tip of her finger, her focus drawn back to Marcus. 

“So?” she asked as he sat next to her. 

“You’re bleeding,” he noted, taking her hand in his to examine it. 

“It’s nothing,” she shook her head and removed her hand from his, quickly putting her finger in her mouth again to rid it of the blood before clasping her hands in her lap. “Marcus?” 

He swallowed down the lump in his throat, knowing he needed to be direct with her about his conversation with Evelyn. 

“She seemed to think your kindness was manufactured,” he admitted. “All a ruse to lure me or something of the sort.” 

Violet pressed her lips together, her heart clenching. She had never thought someone might doubt her intentions of marrying again. She had gained many freedoms as a widow, something she had gotten used to over the decade being alone and she had even asked herself if she was willing to give some of those things up to be married again. 

Marcus knew all this, they had had numerous conversations on such a topic, and over time, Violet came to see the reality of the situation for what it was. In what she lost, she would gain a life partner, a second chance, and Marcus would never treat her as someone to be controlled under him, but rather an equal partner, someone to consult with, to enjoy the many things the second half of their lives had to offer. 

“I take it she is not to be reasoned with?” Violet asked quietly, and Marcus nodded his head. “Oh dear.” 

She could feel the tears begin to well in her eyes again. After all their struggles and conversations with Anthony, Violet had thought the worst of it was over, that they had passed the main hurdle in their attempt for a union. 

She wasn’t sure she had prepared herself for what was to come next, but she knew it was the right thing. They had both decided that should any one of their children be so firmly against the match that it would not be wise to proceed with the engagement. 

Violet chewed on her lip and looked down at her left hand, the opposite one coming to adjust the ring on her finger. 

“We cannot do this,” she looked up at him, eyes glassy with tears. 

Marcus pressed his lips together once more and nodded. That was the agreement. 

Hesitantly, Violet removed the ring from her finger, holding it in her hands for a few moments, reminding herself of its weight, the way it felt in her palm, the excitement in her heart when he had asked if she wished to spend the rest of their lives together. 

Without looking at Marcus, she placed the ring in his hand, tears streaming down her face as she did so. He took the ring, but after, Violet felt his thumb and forefinger on her chin, turning her face to his, encouraging her to look at him. 

“My dear Violet,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “I am so sorry.” 

“As am I,” she whispered. “I love you so very much. A-And thank you for showing me that was possible once more.” 

Marcus chuckled softly and kissed away her tears, his lips feather-light against her face. 

“And thank you for showing me what love feels like.”

Violet lifted her hands to hold Marcus’ face, feeling the stubble of his beard on her fingers. She brought him down, slowly, almost hesitantly, in a kiss. One last thing to remember him by. 

When they had pulled apart, Violet noticed a few tears that had come down Marcus’ face and she allowed herself to offer him the same comfort he had just given to her. 

“I love you.” 

His voice was a choked whisper that shattered her heart. 

“I love you too, my darling Marcus.” 

They made no attempt to compose themselves, and Marcus pulled away knowing if he stayed any longer he would not be able to leave. 

Violet watched, biting her cheek, as he took his hat and slipped out of the room. She looked back down to her hands, a cold empty spot where her ring once was. She was alone, and what better reason to give into the overwhelming need to cry. 

—

To say Marcus was despondent would be an understatement. He made no attempt to keep up appearances, locking himself in his chambers in his sister’s home, claiming a headache each morning to get him out of any commitments he might be roped into by his children. 

Two weeks had passed when he finally decided it was time to remove himself from the confinement he had resigned himself to, joining the family for breakfast. 

“I must say I am surprised Lady Bridgerton did not pay you a visit when you were unwell, Papa,” Amelia said. “Perhaps she is, herself, unwell.” 

“Perhaps,” Marcus nodded quietly. 

“When will we be seeing her again?” James inquired, sipping his tea and looking to his aunt or father for an answer. 

Marcus looked over to Agatha for guidance and she simply nodded her head, knowing he would not be able to hide the news from them much longer. 

“I don’t believe we will be seeing Lady Bridgerton any time soon,” he said. 

Evelyn’s curiosity seemed to be piqued, she looked up from her breakfast, making eye contact with her husband before turning to her father to see if he might explain further. 

“Why is that?” 

Marcus swallowed thickly and leaned back in his chair. 

“We are no longer engaged,” he said. 

“You broke off the engagement?” Evelyn asked, surprised. 

“No, she did,” he sighed. “Now, might we please speak of something else?” 

“Of course,” Amelia answered on behalf of her siblings, easily changing the topic for her father to something more general such as the plans for the impending baby. 

Marcus was more than happy to speak about the arrival of his first grandchild, grateful that while still in a time of such emotional difficulty, he had something joyful to look forward to. 

When breakfast was finished, he made his way to the study, picking a book off of one of the shelves and settling into an armchair to begin reading. He was no more than halfway through the first chapter when there was a knock on the door followed by a quiet creak. 

“Papa? It’s Evie.” 

Marcus sighed and closed his book, temporarily using his finger as a bookmark. 

“Come in.” 

The door pushed all the way open and Evelyn walked into the room before shutting it behind her. She silently came and took a seat across from her father who tried his best to not let his hurt seep through. 

“What can I do for you, Evie?” 

“You said she called it off.” 

That was straight to the point. Marcus thought to himself. 

“Darling, must we speak of this? It is done.” 

Marcus did not want to dredge up old feelings, not when he was still so early into this separation. 

“If you do not wish to,” she nodded. “I-I just wanted to confirm.” 

“If it is confirmation you seek then you have it.” 

Evelyn swallowed thickly and bowed her head, excusing herself from the study, leaving as quickly as she came.

Marcus sighed again and leaned back in his seat, his book placed in his lap while his gaze was focused on the vase of flowers on the other side of the room, wondering why on earth his daughter was so eager to confirm such a thing.

—

“Mama, are you really going to sit here all day, again?” Hyacinth asked, coming to take a seat next to Violet on the settee. 

“I am afraid there is not much else to do, dearest,” Violet looked over at her daughter. “My schedule is decidedly free.” 

“Perhaps we could go for a promenade?” the youngest Bridgerton suggested. “Or go and visit Colin and Pen?” 

Violet could see that her daughter was attempting to get her up and moving, but she did not feel she had the physical or emotional energy to do such a thing. She much preferred to stay on the couch with her embroidery and leave it at that. 

“I could ask Benedict to accompany you if you wish to do that,” she diverted and Hyacinth’s shoulders slumped. 

“Oh my dearest, I am sorry,” Violet sighed and apologized, bringing Hyacinth into her arms and pressing a kiss to the crown of her head. “I am just…” 

“Sad?” 

Violet nodded, letting out a shaky exhale which encouraged her daughter to wrap her arms tighter around her. 

“Me too, Mama,” she mumbled. “I really liked Marcus.” 

“You are not the only one, my dear,” Violet whispered into Hyacinth’s hair, continuing to hold her close. 

“Lady Bridgerton, Miss Hyacinth?” 

The pair looked up to see a footman at the entrance to the drawing room. 

“Yes?” 

“There is a Mrs. Jacob here to see you.” 

“Mrs. Jacob,” Violet murmured to herself, trying to place the name. “Let her in.” 

Hyacinth still wasn’t quite ready to let go of her mother, but she noticed her shift in demeanour when their visitor entered the room. 

“Hyacinth, could you give us a moment?” Violet asked quietly, and Hyacinth looked up to her mother before reluctantly nodding and kissing her cheek before leaving the room, slipping past Mrs. Evelyn Jacob.

“Mrs. Jacob,” Violet stood up and smoothed out her dress. “Can I offer you tea? Or perhaps cake?” 

“N-No, I’m quite alright,” she nodded. “May I ask for a moment of your time?” 

Violet pursed her lips. 

“I am not sure it is wise for us to be speaking.” 

“Then let me say this and I shall leave if you do not wish to see me again,” she pleaded and Violet saw the sincerity in her brown eyes, mirroring the glimmer of her father’s compassion. 

“Very well,” Violet agreed. 

“I am sorry.” 

Violet looked at her curiously. 

“You are sorry?” 

She nodded, “Yes, very much so. It was wrong of me to make assumptions of your character before taking the chance to know you.” 

Violet took in a slow breath before looking at the seats around her. 

“Can I offer you a seat?” she asked and Evelyn nodded, sitting on the couch across from her while Violet settled herself once more. “May I ask what brought on this change of heart?” 

Violet wasn’t entirely sure if she could or should call it that yet. 

“My father, he-uh, he told us this morning that you had broken off your engagement,” she said. “You wouldn’t have done that if what I had accused you of was true. You could have easily ignored what I had said and married him anyway.” 

Violet nodded her head in understanding. 

“You must understand, my Lady, I was only trying to protect my father,” she pressed. “Ever since my mother died I always had assumed he would remarry straight away, even though they had grown to care for each other, it was no secret my parents did not have a love match. I knew this was something he wanted, but he did not express so until recently. He grieved my mother more than I expected him to and I-I worried it would leave him hasty and vulnerable in attempting to try and find another wife.” 

Violet continued nodding her head as she listened. 

“Your concern for your father is admirable,” she said. 

“Lady Bridgerton, you need not be kind to me.”

“Mrs. Jacob,” Violet leaned forward slightly. “Evelyn, you were doing what you thought you needed to to protect your family. No one understands that more than I do.”

Evelyn wrung her hands in her lap, her eyes flicking between Violet and the floor. 

“Do you…do you love him?” 

Violet looked down at her lap and scratched her nose. 

“I do,” she said clearly. “Very much.”

Evelyn seemed to be even more ashamed with herself, but before Violet could say anything to reassure her, she stood up. 

“I-I am sorry, I should be leaving now,” she said. “Thank you for your hospitality.” 

Evelyn rushed out of the door as Violet called for her to come back, but the young woman seemed to have fled the home. 

Violet sighed and sat back down in her seat, twiddling her thumbs. 

“Mama?” Hyacinth peeked her head inside the room. “Who was that?” 

Violet motioned for Hyacinth to come and sit with her and she obeyed, smoothing out her dress as soon as she was seated next to her mother. 

“Marcus’ daughter.” 

“Really?” She seemed astounded. “What did she say?” 

“It does not matter,” Violet shook her head. “What’s done is done.” 

“Mama,” Hyacinth pressed. “What did she say?” 

“She said she misjudged me,” Violet let out a breath of air and leaned into the couch. “But it is too late for anything to come of it.” 

“Why?” Hyacinth protested. “Why would it be too late?” 

“Because the engagement is broken, dearest,” Violet said plainly. “You have to understand, one does not simply continue to change their mind when it comes to marriage.” 

Hyacinth pressed her lips together and sighed.

“If you love each other I do not think it should matter.” 

Violet looked over at her youngest curiously. She was still a child in many ways, but had somehow developed a wisdom beyond her years, especially when it came to matters of the heart. She had always been perceptive of her siblings, and Violet supposed maybe she had been perceptive of her too. 

“Lady Bridgerton, Miss Hyacinth. Dinner is ready.” 

Violet looked over at Hyacinth who was quick to stand up and leave the room for dinner. She took her time, ensuring the pillows were placed nicely on the couch and her embroidery was put away before going to join the rest of her family. 

She was quiet through most of dinner, but as soon as the plates were cleared from the table she excused herself, calling for a cloak and a carriage. 

She waited anxiously while the carriage was prepared and as soon as she was seated inside she instructed the driver to head to the Danbury Estate. 

Darkness had fallen over London and the streets were mostly empty, which is why the sound of hooves, mixing with those coming from her own carriage, caught her attention. She peeked outside the window and recognized the familiar transport that belonged to the Danburys. 

“Stop the carriage!” 

She quickly alerted the driver and they came to a sharp halt only to hear the complete absence of hooves against the cobblestone. She frowned at her realization only to hear quick footsteps followed by a knock on her carriage door. 

Violet opened the door with haste, a relieved chuckle escaping her lips as she saw Marcus standing before her. 

“I was coming to see you,” she said. 

“And I you,” he laughed, a brightness returning to his eyes which had been absent in the past weeks. 

She moved out of the way of the door, an invitation for Marcus to slip inside should he wish. He accepted, but before he sat down next to her he knelt by her side, taking her hands in his. 

“Violet,” he began and she could not help the wide smile that overtook her features, small creases making themselves known in the corners of her eyes, only accentuating her joy. 

“Marcus,” she nodded for him to continue. 

“Given recent news I am hoping you will-” 

“Yes.” 

She didn’t let him finish his sentence, sending them both into a small fit of laughter. 

“I did not even ask you!”

“You did once before, that is enough for me,” Violet chuckled. 

Marcus pulled out that same betrothal ring from his pocket, a grin on both his and Violet’s face as he took her hand and placed it on her finger once again. 

“Perfect,” he whispered. “Just as it should be.” 

He brought her hand to his lips, pressing a kiss over her ring, as if to seal it on her hand. Violet was quick to lift Marcus’ head, forcing him to look into her eyes while she simply admired him. The man who had captured her heart. 

[a-oct0]

I was thinking about this while trying to sleep last night and figured I could share my thoughts on this topic- but I should preface this by saying while I love Callie a lot I am in no way a Callie expert and that this is just my personal understanding of the whole hypndoshades ordeal. (And also I just wanted to write/ramble about something honestly lol)

So to begin- Callie 100% went to the Octarians by her own choice, she went to them willingly sometime just before Splat2. After the Squid Sister splatfest she and Marie went on to expand their solo careers and such as said in game, but the pressure of constantly being in the spotlight started to get to Callie, especially after she was publicly declared as being lesser than her cousin. She needed some sense of escape and she went to the only ones who she felt could understand that feeling... The Octarians. It does seem like Callie at least enjoyed her time there, she decorated the canyon, redesigned the soldiers outfits and probably uplifted the overall mood of the Octarians. Be that before or after the shades I don't know- But I think at some point Octavio realised that Callie would leave and go home, leaving them. I think that's what spawned the hypnoshades- he used them not to kidnap her out right but as a way to convince her to stay, not wanting to lose what had basically become a light in the dark for his people. The shades do seem to make Callie act a bit different but I don't think they're programmed to make her personality different, I've always viewed it as if the shades gave her this- sense of freedom, that she can say and act how she wishes just maybe slightly exaggerated by the shades. Now of course Marie was able to hit the shades off Callie's face which "returned her to normal" and tbf by Splat3 it seems like Callie has worked through her issues, slowly making her way back into the public eye solo.

Now this part- is all just complete headcanon and tied to my own Agents/NSS lore but I wanted to share some of it as well lol- While I get the game making Callie put the shades back on because "they look cool" as a way to add her back to the boss fight was well that- literally just a way to add her back to the fight- I personally think she did in fact put those shades back on. She put them back on again and again as an unhealthy coping mechanism, to return to that sense of escape from her very public life. Marie "snapping her out of it" did not fix the issues she had and so Marie (And Agent 4) fought Callie and Octavio again and again- each time Marie hitting Callie in the face with low tide ink. Low tide ink is probably a very dense and generally harmless type of ink but even with that constant exposure would have to leave a mark right? (This is the reason I tend to draw Callie with the green eye scar.) I think gaining this scar over time would snap some sense into Callie- finally realising just how- dangerous and mentally unhealthy her constant use of the shades are, it would be difficult but she realises that she needs to seek proper help or the cycle won't end no matter how hard Marie and Four try.

[crystaljellie]

Having so many ORV AU thoughts but not having the time to write them all is so tragic

But I can't be the only one who knows of my ORV x MHA AU so I'm gonna ramble about what I have here!!

Before I start any proper ramblings about the AU here is a small intro that I wrote for the AU when I originally intended to make it a fanfic!!

───

Yoo Joonghyuk was a man I had always envied. I had spent my childhood years with him, the formative years in which had shaped me as a person. No, with him isn’t right. It’s more so I had spent those years watching him, the strongest kid in class, the most admired the most feared. Yoo Joonghyuk was a shining example of what all parents wished their kids would be, most could overlook his frosty attitude in favour of his quirk.

Yoo Joonghyuk’s quirk was, far from normal. There wasn’t any other quirk like it in recorded history. There were so many different facets to it, with so many skills and abilities he could unlock as he “levelled up” his quirk. It was uncanny, it was almost as if he was the protagonist of some sort of RPG. So that’s what they named his quirk, “Protagonist.”

There was only one other person who had a quirk even remotely similar to Yoo Joonghyuk. And unfortunately, it was me. I can’t say it helped with my envy of him. His “Protagonist” quirk versus my “Bookmark” quirk it was clear which one was superior. In this type of society, a quirk that could copy other people’s quirks was commonly looked down upon, and classified as a villain's quirk. So that was the way I was treated for most of my life, as the villain counterpart to Yoo Joonghyuk’s righteous hero. And because of that, I envied him.

Of course, bookmark itself wasn’t the only part of my quirk. But I hadn’t yet been aware of it myself, the fourth wall. My quirk was really a quirk that could only be utilised by a reader.

───

Okay!! So now with that out of the way let me get into explaining their quirks!

Joonghyuk's Quirk is basically how his skills function in ORV because I think he deserves to be overpowered, of course, he doesn't have his regression stigma nor does he have a sponsor constellation. He unlocks more of his skills the further he progresses in his training or during significant events during his life. The skills he has access too are accessible on a videogame screen just like in ORV it's like a skill tree

Dokja's Bookmark quirk though is slightly different, because Bookmark works the way it does in ORV as does fourth wall but bookmark isn't part of Fourthwall they are separate quirks, I still haven't decided how he got the second quirk I'm working on that (and if anyone has any ideas let me know).

Sooyoung's quirk is where I branch out from the ORV versions slightly more, basically she's really good at lying, that's not her quirk but it works with her quirk, in short its like anything she can convince other people is true manifests into reality!! It doesn't have to be spoken either, if she can convince someone a drawing is actually a photo or a fiction book is actually factual then that works too.

The drawbacks for most peoples (ORV) quirks are the probability effects, for example, the more outside the realm of reality Sooyoung's lies are the more she physically suffers from it to the point it could result in death.

I think Heewon deserves to be able to infuse all her weapons with fire and that's her quirk, but I also want the fire to be golden because I also think she deserves that

The kids are just beast and insect tamers respectively and I have no other ideas for them I'm sorry :(

Lee Jihye can control the ocean but with the rule that she can only do this while she is standing on a sea vessel, I like to imagine that she controls the ocean like shes puppeteering it, using strings and all that

Lee Hyunsung is kind of like TetsuTetsu which is kind of sad to me I think he deserves more, so I think he can not only reinforce himself with steel but anything he touches (and that he wills) so he's like the ultimate defense guy ever.

Mia's quirk I have actually pulled from another fanfic I'm writing for her which is ORV from her perspective- not the point anyways she has a bubble pop quirk as I like to call it forms a protective bubble around her and pops sending people flying when someone touches it. I also think she would have slight healing abilities shes Yoo Joonghyuks sister she can be overpowered too she deserves it.

(Still working on Sangah and Seolhwas quirks as long with some of the constellations they have me stumped :( )

───

In terms of plot I want it to be pretty different from the MHA plot, like I'd keep the LOV and AFO but class 1-A and maybe Aizawa too are all replaced with the ORV cast, so dynamics are really different leading to a lot of different events. And KDJ and YJH have a massive rivalry even though they both deny to anyone who asks that they have a rivalry (just like how deny they have crushes on each other but again not the point)

Was even thinking of maybe having a plot arc where Mia gets kidnapped and meets the other kids (Jihye, Gilyoung and Yoosung) and they don't have family so when either Mia breaks them out or the heroes come get them she just forces her brother to adopt them all or they get adopted by the school faculty.

───

Anyways that is all the thought I have on that AU so far :3 I'd love to hear everyone's thoughts on it

[toons-and-doom]

Sprouts twisted form better be terrifying or I quit/j

GLISTEN, imagine his face was shattered and some ichor was leaking out, and if bro could speak he could be slightly heard PANICKING about his appearance and if you get close he’ll yell at your ass saying “DON’T LOOK AT ME” or smth like that. Tryna cover his face and all that.

EXACTLY. I wonder what lil bro is gonna be like.

Hold up Drabble time.

This is most definitely ooc but in my defense glisten isn’t even out yet and he’s not in the right frame of mind (ie, twisted). Also sorry if the writing sucks ass I’m writing because executive dysfunction when it comes to drawing.

Drabble ramble time

Hideous. He was hideous. He needed to fix himself.

Glisten knew that all to well.

A bit of his face falls onto the floor, and he has to bite back a wail. Please don’t break again- not again please- He quickly picks up the fallen peice, reattaching it to his face. He’s momentarily relived when the fragment stays where it’s supposed to. (…he’s pretty sure that’s where that part is supposed to go… he’s been having a hard time thinking clearly…).

The ichor is all that’s keeping his face together now. It flows freely now, dripping down his face and chest onto the floor bellow. Disgusting. It left a faint trail as he wanders out of the kitchen to a sitting area, not daring venture deeper into the kitchen. Glisten was thankful he couldn’t vomit.

He didn’t want to face his other companion(?) in this nightmare he’s found himself in. Razzle and Dazzle, or rather, what was left of them. They were ruined, monstrous. Just like him. They were quite literally half of what they used to be. But there was harmony in their appearance. The two halves made a whole. There was still some beauty in their peaceful face. He HATED that they were so ugly yet so perfect.

He catches a glimpse of himself in the reflection of a machine (…he doesn’t remember why there was so many lying around. Somewhere in his dulled mind he could remember they were important, their purpose was far beyond him now).

Oh god.

It’s worse than he thought.

.

If he were trying to be optimistic he could say he looked like a Picasso painting. A Picasso painting which was thrown in oil and was recreated from memory a cheap copy of the work of art. Features all wrong and misshapen… some completely gone OHGODHOWWASHEGOINGTOFIXTHIS??? ISHEGOINGTOFALLAPART-?!

He immediately turns his head away from the thing staring back at him through his reflection. He just needed to wake up. That’s all. This was all just some sick joke of a dream and he’ll wake up soon! (…the dull ache in his mind, and the ichor occasionally choking him tell him otherwise).

.

.

.

Of course that’s when he hears the elevator doors closing. They aren’t alone anymore.

oh god their going to look at HIM. They’re going to JUDGE him- they’re gonna think he’s a MONSTER.

He could already hear one coming his way.

His hands shoot up to cover his face. His ichor stained hands which will definitely make the state of his face worse. He chokes back sobs. He prays they will just leave.him.alone.

The footsteps stop. A voice. He can recognize it as a poppy’s.

‘ … hey? Are you alright? ‘

Is she blind??? Does he look fine??? Or is she just stupid- why are poppy’s like this?? He wishes he could just…. He doesn’t know-

… poppys did always have such nice bows… such pristine condition despite the situations they rope themselves into… and glisten needed to replace his bow anyways…. And their teeth? Their straight. Glisten would need to replace his all to sharp teeth soon… the best things about poppys are their eyes… so wide and perfectly round… glisten needed to replace a eye anyways- he doubts it will mind.

….The footsteps resume, much slower than glisten hoped. He moves one finger to see the poppy. It was reaching its hand out towards him, perhaps to reassure him. That was fine. All it needed to do was get a little closer…

He removed one hand from his face, partially exposing him to the poppy. He sinks the claws of the aforementioned hand into the ‘skin’ of the poppy… it didn’t really need its skin anyways, right?.

… it looks horrified. It sees him.

Instinct takes over. This poppy needed to die before it could run off and warn the others- before they can all see him- maybe if gets to them- he could use all their wasted bits to fix himself!

…. That sounds… nice.

(I’m not sure how to close this rip-)

[sadvid]

camp camp makes me insane ramble. do not click more unless you are so so very insane

camp camp is gonna make me go fucking insane i can't fucking do this anymore there is NOTHING!!!!!! NOTHING!!!! ALL THEY DID WAS GIVE US TINY PISS DRRROPLETS WITH ONE EPISODE FINALE SAYING MAXS PARENTS DONT CARE AND DAVID SAYING YOU DONT DESERVE THAT AND NOW IVE BEEN IN THE TRENCHES FOR YEAAAARSSS. i have read fics with over 100k words i have drawn so many things and imagined so many scenarios with angst and hurt/comfort and stupid stupid thoughts that would never ever happen in the show in a million years HIS ASS IS NOT GETTING ADOPTED DADVID IS NOT REAL GWENVID IS A SICK JOKE i love them so much you don't understand. i forgot to take my meds. oh my goddddd. THERE ARE LIKE THREE CAMP CAMP FANS LEFT BECAUSE THE REST WERE NORMAL PEOPLE WHO JUST WATCH THE SILLY CAMP CARTOON THAT SAYS FUCK. they dont wonder about the possibilities of a sad ten year old rejecting happiness but slowly allowing himself to be vulnerable and loved by a counselor who is surrounded by hate and despondency but stays positive despite despite despite because nobody else will and he wants to be the source of happiness that he wish someone was for him. NO! they say HAHA the ten year old said fuck! oh my god the non swearing counselor said fuck too that's so profound! oh no the ten year olds parents bad :( HAHA NOW HES BALD!!!! and after a month of the show being gone they LEAVE because they're NORNAL!!!!! but i. I AM IN THE TRENCHESSSSS. you have no idea you have no idea. listen maybe i'm just a little insane because i am a max who needs a david JUST MAYBE! and i think this is just a lot of me projecting my desperate need for love and my simultaneous rejection and fear of it onto max. And my need for someone to keep persistently and loudly loving me no matter how much i reject it. PROBABLY!!!!! i don't care i don't care how fucking insane i sound I HAVE SO MUCH TO SAY I COULD talk about this show for hours i wish i didn't have job or school or life so i could write and anímate camp camp season 6 7 8 9 10 infinity and kill the warner brothers and write 500k word ao3 fics. IM INSANE. i am picking up crumbs and calling it a wedding cake do you understand. god i'm i i i i i i i i it's 2024 it's been too long too many years of this.... too many got damned years. every time i pick up a pencil i draw max camp camp. i have drawn david's stupid fucking face so many times its probably become the shape of my brain wrinkles. i go feral thinking about gwen's hair looks like down or what the fuck these characters last names are. Can you fucking believe i hyper fixated on a character whose last name i dont even know. hey who's that small angry fucker you're always doodling. uhh max. max who. max... camp camp. WHO?!!! DAVID?!!? DAVID ATTENBOROUGH?!?! MAX CAULFIELD?! i'm going to set myself on fire. i really truly am. i love them i live for nothing but a ghost child on an island and a silly friend trio. when will it end. when. i love them if you couldn't tell

[goodluckclove]

In Defense of Self-Inserts

This is written in response to an ask sent from the Always Delightful @fukurouonthesea, who asked for my thoughts on creating unique characters in regards to a tabletop game character they're building. My first thought on getting this question is that Fukuro likely assumes unique characters are a subject I know things about - good to hear! Good that people assume I know things! That works out well for me.

So I can speak more on the perspective of writing characters for prose and scripts rather than TTRPGs. I recently finished my first campaign, but I was sort of tricked into playing by my wife who was DM-ing and ended up going the whole time with a joke character I really couldn't find any actual dramatic pathos in*. My next attempt will hopefully be more intentionally-crafted. But also still probably chaotic. I tend to lean that way, apparently.

But characters! How do you do them? Or, more accurately, how do I do them? There's a ton of paths to get to the same goal of Cool Guy That's Fun To Read About, but I'd love to take this opportunity to put off actually working on Migration Patterns for a while longer and instead ramble about something I've been wanting to dive into for a while.

Self-inserts are actually super useful! They're great! All of my characters are self-inserts and virtually no one has ever commented on that! I genuinely don't think they've noticed!

(this is a long one)

What is a self-insert, really? The definition I'm the most familiar with in writing is a character drawing (maybe even heavily drawing) from yourself as the author. I saw people back in the day get very mean about self-inserts, considering them an overlap with the Original Sin of Mary Sue-dom. It's 2024, though, and these days Mary Sue is primarily a term used to describe female characters that a critic personally doesn't like. Still, I've had a TON of writers come to me worrying about writing self-inserts, and I'm consistently confused.

Maybe it's because I've been doing this for long enough that I've built up an immunity to the dumb nonsense people say online posing as "Objective Writing Advice". Maybe it's because I'm a huge fan of Kurt Vonnegut, a man who straight up wrote himself as a side character in a few of his most notable books. I've never gone that far, but I absolutely pull from my own life and identity for all of my characters and it consistently works.

I think when a reader points out a character as a self-insert, it's a reflex of seeing someone with notably less nuance than the rest of the cast. This character - let's name them Goobis - is written with the near-explicit intent to be just super cool. It's an instant turn-off for me in a written work if there's one person I can just look at and immediately know they're crafted to be the fandom darling. Goobis might have faults, but if they do, they're pretty cool faults. They're things that could definitely be bad if pushed to a thematic height (Caring too much, over-protective, self-sacrificing, a level of snark that's guaranteed to make impressionable fans slightly insufferable for a few years), but they aren't.

Goobis, typically, gets kid gloves in terms of the treatment of the story. Plot Armor, maybe. Or they might be a Plot Martyr that has every bad thing ever happen to them and everyone around them is either an old-timey villain or a kind cardboard cutout that weeps oh no poor Goobis!! Both are fine. There's an audience for both, clearly. But from what I've seen those are the types of characters that typically get readers - myself included - to think they're a form of wish-fulfillment.

You can do wish-fulfillment in writing. You should do that at least one, it's nice and good for bone health. But man, there are a lot of writers (Including adult ones that I've known in my real life) who can benefit from - like - distance, man. Draw from yourself and your life, but unless you're ready for a conversation maybe don't be one-to-one accurate.

I have a relative who got a masters in creative writing. I found his novella online and aimed to read it and send him my thoughts as a show of support, only to find that it was actually unbelievably pretentious and I honestly couldn't get through it. What drew my attention, though, was that the main character was dealing with the grief of his father, who died literally the exact same way my relative's actual father died.

I caught it immediately and I think I whispered "oh no" out loud. Like, what are you doing dude? Your mom read that shit, and she had to see you describe an entirely accurate depiction of how her fucking husband died that is such a weird move. Processing grief through writing is great - but change some fucking specifics, you weirdo. Make it a mom instead of a dad, or maybe an uncle or grandpa if you're keeping the patriarch thing. Change the reason why he needed surgery, or the medical complication that caused his death. Maybe don't name the exact hospital where your Dad died in this non-autobiographical work. Fucking hell.

Shifting some surface-level details from events in your life is, often times, enough to make it so people directly involved in these events can read them and not even realize what you're referencing. You can also tweak a certain event slightly to fictionalize it even further, while still having the honesty of your real life experience. I dropped out of school while starting the same creative writing program my relative graduated from. What if I stayed? What would my life look like? What would my writing look like? Would I still even enjoy writing? The concept of sliding door moments is a fascinating one to me and it's something I think about a lot.

On a more internal level in terms of character, you know more of yourself than anyone else in your life. You know your fears and your faults. You know what makes you lovable - or what people say they love you for, or what you'd like them to love about you. You probably know things about yourself that are so painful and trembling that you assume that if anyone else finds out about them they'd immediately realize you're worthless as a human being. If you don't know any of that, maybe you should. Internal contemplation - or external though something like therapy - is absolutely beneficial in a ton of ways, including for your art.

People are complicated. Everyone is complicated, and the average person as the most experience with their own network of identity. And in my own work (The only craft I can really speak for), putting at least a touch of myself in the characters I create has really caused people to engage and relate to them.

And it's weird, because I can't really think of any major faults that any of my characters have. At least, not in the way a lot of newer writers describe character faults - like some rubber stamp easily marked in the center of a person's forehead. There are things about the cast of my series Songbird Elegies that I see as struggles that either have to be processed or managed. Someone might be self-loathing, or struggle with emotional intimacy, or have a temper that will absolutely steer them wrong. They might be impulsive to a degree that is no longer Quirky Cute. That's not great.

But growing writers will sometimes make a fault out to be a thing that you can see very clearly in a person above anything else. As if you can point at a guy on the street and say BAM - SEXIST! Which - yeah, you can do that. I can have brief interactions with people I don't actually know and come away thinking that someone is stupid or lazy or irresponsible or any number of bad qualities. It's only if I got to actually know them - either though a relationship or just somehow following their lives as an outside observer - that I'd learn they slipped through the cracks in school so deeply that they just stopped caring, or they went through a loss that resulted in them choosing to survive instead of actually live.

Your worst qualities weren't predestined from birth. The Meyers-Brigg is absolute nonsense mainly utilized by the military and most major corporations. There are things you might hate about yourself that once served to protect you. This is true for everyone you see, but when you're just starting out in art it might be hard to see that. That's why it's so helpful to first draw from yourself.

So draw from yourself to whatever degree you want. Give Goobis your sense of humor, but maybe use it as an opportunity to explore why you're so quick to joke and what doing that might be avoiding. Have Goobis experience the same childhood birthday that irrevocably changed the course of your life, but maybe change what year it happened and make it a close-up magician you found instead of a Spiderman Impersonator. In fact, consider seeing what would change if it was Goobis' innocent little brother who stumbled across Spiderman's dead body instead of Goobis themself. If you're willing to be honest - not excessively self-deprecating or praising, just honest - you'll probably be surprised how many people see themselves in the people you write.

God that was long. I hope that helped maybe? Helped someone?

*It was an eldritch horror wearing a cowboy Hat of Disguise to look like a bulldog. His name was Socks. He ended the campaign traveling to early 2000s Philadelphia and kidnapping an NPC with him. This was after Socks paid for the NPCs Wizard school education, then paid for the NPC to become a potter after crossing paths again, and then sacrificed the NPC to be an immortal slave to a Time Spider. In the climax of this campaign Socks used the Teleport cantrip from Wizards101 to banish the final enemy to the Tomb of the Beguiler. Things went off the rails real quick.