#like back in the day there were so many blogs it was impossible to remember

[wildgorgeousthing]

iirc they've mentioned that "tumblr is back" like three times now. how would they know? they're in our walls, nay, badly hidden behind our curtains and under our beds. they know. they know, and we are being witnessed.

[olderthannetfic]

hi, as someone who is tragically gen Z and only ever read AO3, can I ask: what was so great about LiveJournal? Like, I know that there were fics posted there (and I've even read about the "purge", so I get why it isn't used anymore) and that it was sort of a forum-type thing. But what I don't understand, wouldn't Tumblr fill in the latter function? How was that site any different? I see a lot of people reminiscing about it and I'm confused

--

A big factor in LJ's greatness is timing and nostalgia.

It was genuinely great, but it wasn't quite as great as all of the Lo, shall the Golden Age ne'er come again? posts suggest.

LJ arrived at a pivotal time in the development of the internet both in terms of technical stuff and how many people had access. Many fans who are now in their thirties to fifties first discovered fandom through LJ and many were at a time in their lives when they were feeling energetic and up to making lots of new friends—and to figuring out how to make a site work for them.

I got on LJ in 2002 when it required invites. Fandom arrived in droves in 2003, first via coordinated campaigns to get invites to key people and then when LJ opened up free account creation to everyone. Back then, LJ's features sucked. It was impossible to search properly, among other things. At its height (2005-7, let's say), there was a reasonable site search, and fans had developed all sorts of community resources for finding each other.

People often remember this phase but not the early days of suckitude.

This development parallels how Tumblr used to not have that private chat feature and how a lot of fuckyeah[whatever] type tumblrs have helped curate the site and make it much more usable for fans. Fandom draining away from LJ after strikethrough also parallels people draining away from Tumblr after the purge.

There are people who talk about Tumblr the way my cohort talks about LJ...

And to the shock of no one, they are people who came of age on Tumblr, who found fandom via Tumblr, who were on Tumblr during pivotal times in their lives and ones when they had energy to make friends and figure out how a site worked.

Those same Tumblrites are now making all the same geriatric-sounding posts we LJers do about how other sites lack the required features to be good for fandom while missing that 90% of tumblr's "features" at its height (2012-2016, let's say) were actually fan-created and were basically the same as any fandom newsletter or links page or all the versions of this kind of personal curation stretching back to long before the internet existed.

What life phase you hit a site at matters.

--

With all of that said, no, LJ was not a forum. It was a blogging site with threaded comments.

The key point to understand is that conversation was always happening in a specific person's space. Unlike on a true forum, people were in the comments on a particular post in a journal owned by another fan. (On a forum, there's the first post in a thread, but it's still more of a communal space with less of a hierarchy.)

Overall, the LJ format can have a feeling a bit like you're over at someone's house for tea. There's more of a sense of intimacy and also behaving yourself in front of community members.

Tumblr being obscure and impossible to find anything in does give it some of the same vibe relative to Twitter, but it's still part of modern social media that tries to shove every rando into the face of every other rando.

But it wasn't just vibes: LJ also had robust privacy features where you could lock a post to this or that group of friends. You could moderate your comments section properly. Tumblr has far fewer controls to force people to behave or leave on a technical level.

--

The biggest thing many people miss about LJ is the threaded comments. At least by late LJ and on Dreamwidth, you can expand and collapse threads, making it far easier to deal with a massive comments section. But more than that, things are properly threaded with multiple levels of hierarchy that are all easily visible in the same place.

On Tumblr, it used to be extremely difficult to find all of the actual commentary on a post. Nowadays, it's far easier, but you still have to scroll chronologically, and multiple versions of a post with a long chain of commentary may be much more divorced from each other than what would happen in a LJ comments section.

--

But could we use Tumblr pretty much how we used LJ?

We could.

I do.

--

The key things that people tend to miss about LJ, aside from the younger and more excited version of themselves or the friends they've lost since then, are:

Heavily text-based

It may sound odd on the modern internet, but there are a lot of people whose brains don't like or handle an image-heavy site well. They were everywhere in SF book fandom. They were everywhere on the early internet. Today, they're hanging out on Dreamwidth and still going to their SF cons. They're usually not on Tumblr.

You could follow the discussion

Threaded comments help, but a lot of it is about having some place you can check for updates. It wasn't actually that easy to follow big LJ discussions unless you were subscribed to comments and reading along as things were happening instead of coming along after the entire mass of comments had been left.

The tone of the discussion is intellectual and one's enemies are "idiots", not "problematic"

All this requires is a penchant for longwindedness and an itchy blocking finger to remove anyone slinging ad hominems from the comments section.

On tumblr, it's as simple as conversations happening in the replies on a popular account and that person not tolerating suibaiting and threats.

(And make no mistake, a lot of LJ discussion was in the comments on popular accounts, not spread equally between everyone's.)

It does require that multiple people like that tone and want to engage in that way, but lots of people do want to.

--

These days, I interact with tumblr by checking my askbox and reading my activity page. The vast, vast majority of my posts are ones where I'm the OP, so if I block someone, they're booted from the discussion entirely.

For me... yeah, Tumblr functions almost exactly like LJ.

Also like LJ, while I'm hosting the conversation, if you hang around, you'll see the same people again and again in the comments. They may or may not also host that kind of conversation in their space, and there's a larger pool of lurkers who have some notion of which people count as regulars. Other people are watching from the shadows, enjoying or deriding the takes of the usual crowd.

People presumably do like reading my lengthy commentary or they wouldn't be here, but my tumblr wouldn't be popular like this without a healthy pool of other people who chime in regularly. It's not just that there are more people: it's that you see the same people over time. There's a bit more sense of place and community than on some parts of the internet.

--

So, in my opinion, the failure to just recreate LJ fandom on Tumblr was a skill issue.

Threaded comments were great, but LJ culture came from mailing lists, and mailing lists had the same issue as tumblr with the diverging threads.

We solved that back then by clipping out only the parts we wanted to respond to (you'd write "snip" around the quotation to show it was incomplete). We solved the smaller LJ issue by linking to other posts we were referencing and doing discussion link roundups. We solve it on tumblr by, again, linking to what we're talking about and even quoting multiple reblog chains in our own reblog of just one chain.

--

Tumblr's technical features and even general crap-ness aren't really the problem. 90s and early 00s sites regularly went down for periods of time unthinkable today.

The missing piece is people.

When one is in an active fandom with others who curate or with friends who let one know what's up, a site with imperfect features is easy to figure out and retrofit for fandom's needs. When one already feels out of touch and is between fannish passions—or at least fannish passions anyone else cares about—seeing the potential in a new site is hard.

--

Threaded comments are different and better.

LJ's built-in way to see everyone's blog in your own style was better. The automatic timestamps and the ease of seeing a paginated archive of an entire blog was better than tumblr's endless scroll and lack of clear date labeling. But some of that can be fixed with xkit or knowing your way around tumblr well.

A lot of it is nostalgia for the lj era and a refusal to take the time to figure out how to use tumblr in an oldschool internet way.

--

So by all means, people, weigh in about what made LJ great or how the culture felt at the time...

But if I see one more god damn response going "You can't have a conversation on tumblr!" in reply to my tumblr, which contains nothing but conversation, I am coming for you.

[strwbrythoughts]

no stopping a man in love | alhaitham

In which the traveler and Paimon catches Alhaitham indulging in something unexpected.

A/N: I might as well make this whole blog dedicated to Alhaitham because man's got my heart in a chokehold :(

Divider by @/osqrie

The House of Daena was filled with the sounds of pages turned over and the quick footsteps of the students flitting from one bookcase to another. Furrowed eyebrows and downturned lips decorated each of their faces. The librarian seemed stressed out to navigate the flurry of students and assist them in finding books. Even a stranger could tell the obvious; examination season was right around the corner.

Alhaitham, the ex-Acting Grand Sage and current Scribe of the Akademiya, had his eyes glued onto his surroundings. Though his expression remained neutral, he couldn't deny the feeling of annoyance building up inside him. The library was way too noisy to be called one. It was a good thing that he was enjoying his read so far. Though, the choice of reading fiction was something that not a lot of people would expect from him.

Yes, he had a book titled "The Genius Falls in Love!" nestled in his hands.

He didn't really catch the eye of anyone. After all, it wasn't weird that the Scribe would spend his day in the library instead of his office. His work hours were long but he never really complied to them. That was something that the students were mighty jealous of. What they didn't know, however, was that his work was always submitted on time with the highest quality. A trait that most of them could only hope to achieve.

Alhaitham put on his noise-cancelling earphones. His eyes relaxed slightly as he could focus better on the book in his hand. He was already on chapter 22. An impressive amount of reading, given that he only received the book that morning.

His body rested fully onto the chair he sat on. He closed his eyes, remembering the sweet smile his wife gave him as she handed him the book.

'Here, honey!' she exclaimed, shoving a book into his hands. 'If you miss me at work, read this book I wrote! And tell me how it went, yeah?'

From the moment he stepped out of their shared house, he flipped the book open. 'Ridiculous,' he thought to himself. 'I always miss you when you're not by my side.'

And so off he went. He finished all the work he deemed urgent enough on that day, before immediately going back to reading. It was quite the comical sight, really. The stoic genius reading a fictional book? A romance, at that? Impossible. Utterly ridiculous.

And yet, here he was.

The work day passed by so quickly when he spent it reading. Before he knew it, the librarian came over to his spot and told him that the library was closing. Alhaitham immediately got up and left to go home.

--

The walk back was quiet and peaceful enough. The mere sight of his wife's face as she greeted him at the door was enough to make a smile appear on his face, no matter how slight.

"Honey! How was work today? What did you eat during lunch? Did you have time to read my book?" It was expected that his wife would bombard him with questions the moment he came home. However, she was special in every way. For instance, he would always answer each question she had calmly, no matter how frequent or stupid they may be.

"I'm back. Work was completed like usual today. I ate the lunch you prepared for me, and I'm halfway through your book, my dear."

His wife giggled at the thought of her husband taking some time out of his busy day to read her work. What she didn't know was that his day was scheduled around her, and never around anything else.

Until the traveler and Paimon had some interesting news to bring to her.

--

"Traveler, look! Is Alhaitham reading...a romance?"

Paimon's voice bounced off the walls of the House of Daena. She had successfully captured the eyes of many students, causing the traveler to put their hand over their head. Perhaps to block a headache induced by her lack of realisation that they were in the library.

Paimon's hands flew over her mouth right after the words were uttered. Her eyes seemed apologetic enough, darting over to the traveler as a silent apology. The traveler merely shot her an awkward smile.

It was a good thing that Alhaitham himself did not pay them any mind. The way his ears perked up slightly showed that he indeed heard Paimon, but perhaps chose to ignore them. However, the eyes glued to his person was quite bothersome, even for someone as stoic as him.

He shut the book in his hands quite loudly, hinting his irritation at Paimon. She only gulped and shot a panicked expression at the traveler, who deadpanned at her. The both of them stood still as they heard Alhaitham's footsteps approach them. He was getting closer and closer with each thud of his footsteps.

"I would appreciate if you did not point out whatever business unrelated to you." His voice was calm, just like his expression. His eyes told a different story all together. The traveler's flying companion could only apologise repeatedly, while the traveler shot him an apologetic smile.

After a few seconds of awkward silence between the trio, the Scribe walked away from the both of them. His right hand carried the romance book he was reading quite delicately, as if it was his most precious treasure. And it truly was.

Anything related to his wife was a treasure to him, and he would never forgive himself if he failed to appreciate even the simplest things about her.

--

"...and that was it! He seemed really annoyed that the Akademiya students were looking at him curiously." Paimon ended her story to Alhaitham's wife. She merely chuckled at the tale.

"Of course he was. He dislikes people getting into his business after all."

"Are you sure he isn't acting like that because he's embarrassed about getting caught reading something so...unexpected, of him?" The traveler furrowed their eyebrows as their companion asked such question with no hesitation. She really needed to learn to read the room sometimes.

Before she could answer, Alhaitham embraced his wife from behind. His eyes were calm, as if having his wife in his arms was all it took to make him feel tranquil.

"Do you really think I'd be reading such book in public if I were to be 'embarrassed' about it? Moreover, how could my lovely wife ever make me feel embarrassed?"

That was more than enough of an answer for the traveler and Paimon. They smiled sweetly at the response. The smiles were short lived, however, as Alhaitham sent them both out of his house, wanting to be alone with his wife.

Ah, well. There's no stopping a man in love, is there?

Thank you for reading! <3

[snk-warriors]

Can't Stay Away

Levi Ackerman x F! Reader

Summary: After the war ended, Levi finds himself at a familiar doorstep.

Warnings: Bittersweet angst, smut, not proofread

A/N: This blog is still officially inactive, but this story is a little gift for my dear friend @antivan-dragon. It was a joy to write it for you! <3

This is wrong.

He shouldn't be here - not after everything that had happened.

How long has it been, ten years? More?

It's hard to tell when you're used to live from moment to moment. Never knowing whether the current day might be your last really messes up one's perception of time.

All Levi's sure of is that the brief time he had allowed himself with you was the happiest he's ever been - than he ever thought to be capable of.

And yet, from his very first breath, his fate was clear: To him, living had always been a fight. Whether it was in the underground for food and safety, or against titans and humans alike under the clear sky mattered very little in the great concept of things.

The only home he's ever known was on the battlefield - until he met you, at least.

And still, Levi went back to the frontlines again and again and again because it's all he's ever known, the power he's born with a burdening duty upon the weak...

...but what place does a soldier have now, in a society without war?

This is what he fought for, right? To achieve peaceful times. Avenge his fallen comrades, honor his commander and protect as many people as possible from the unnecessary suffering this cruel world eventually provided.

Protecting you, first and foremost.

Your wellbeing has always been his greatest priority, and yet at the same time Levi was the one responsible for so much misery. Back then he convinced himself it was for the better, that he was doing you a favor by removing himself from your life.

In the end, all that's left for him now is the bitter feeling of regret.

Levi was aware that you would've waited for him, no matter how long it'd take until his return...

...but he was certain that his death was inevitable - a sacrifice he'd gladly take if it'd meant ensuring you a long and fulfilled life. And even if the impossible case of his survival would occur, he'd be a different man by then.

Ultimatively, he has become exactly this: Unlike you remember him, and definetly nothing close to what you deserved.

Maybe even in different circumstances he could never live up to the expectations he had set in himself - at least when it came to you.

But he felt as if you were like pure sunlight and he was a moth, drawn to it. No, he was the moon - selfishly absorbing and covering your brightness.

So, in order to make things easier for you, he pushed you away despite his soul screaming for him to stay at your side until humanity would reduce itself to ashes.

When no words would dring through to your devoted self, he announced an engagement to Petra, efficiently shattering your heart in the process.

Nothing Levi had ever done was as hard a task.

Given time however you'd find someone worthy to give you the life he longed for so deeply but never could, at least that's what he thought...

...yet when he heard that you never married even after all this time, his rationality stands no chance against the aching of his own loneliness.

Just to look how you've been he told himself on the way, and for an overdue apology.

Your little cottage on the outskirts of Wall Rose still looks as if he never left. It always smelled of lavender and honey, and whatever you were baking at the time.

Levi switched from the wheelchair to his cane, still able to walk by himself at least for a short distance. Only a few stairs separated the two of you, and it was the longest he's ever took - not because of his disability, but rather to gather all of his courage.

Facing his enemies was a piece of cake compared to this right now.

Though it felt wrong to do so he peeked through the window, his face twitching into an almost-smile as he finally laid eyes upon you again. The inside was cleaned spotless as always, neatly yet minimalistic decorated. You on the other hand were currently preparing some pastries, contently humming to yourself.

It felt like he never left.

What about you, he wondered. Had there been others after him? What was your life like these days? He wants to know everything.

That goddamn cat was still alive as it seems, curiously pricking up it's ears as it recognized the familiar - altough mangled - face. You and him had argued a lot about letting feral animals into your home, due to Levi's concern for hygiene and especially that damn fur everywhere in the house.

One glare from the man and it hissed, jumping down from the front porch and bolting into the forrest. Shit.

Living alone and isolated from civilization was dangerous, especially for a single woman. So it was no wonder how hyper-aware you still are, immediately swinging the door open with a clocked rifle.

Oh, how much he missed that side of you. The perfect combination of cute but deadly.

"Levi..." His features immediately softened at the sound of your voice. To him that name had been reduced to a battle cry, something for his enemies to curse and his superiors yelled to wield their human weapon around.

But coming out of your mouth, he could listen to it all day even if it was just to hurl insults at him.

Instead you put your welcoming arms around him before the weapon even dropped to the ground, heartwrenching sobs echoing against the pinewoods. "God, Levi, you-you're back. You're finally back...I-I knew you'd come!"

The former Captain should be relieved, and frankly, he is - nevertheless, things shouldn't be this way.

He had left so you could live...and you simply didn't.

This wasn't fair. And it drove him insane. There was an immense fury at the pit of his stomach at the realization that his withhold was for nothing, that you had wasted both of your lifetimes through your stubbornness.

You should have found yourself a man that could give you a family, a stable life, goddamn it the whole fucking world shall you ask!

However the sheer fact that he was finally able to breathe the same air as you again overshadowed any grudge with pure gratitude.

His whole life Levi had been was a dedicated, dutiful combatant, unquestioning to his orders. Now that the war was over, there was nothing left for him to do, nowhere left to go.

This one time, he'll allow himself to be selfish.

A hand on the back of your neck pulled you to close the remaining distance between the two of you, sealing his mute promises with a longdue kiss.

Levi had kissed you before - always rough and demanding. That's how things were between you, after all: He came to your home solely to get a taste of what normalcry, being human, was like, just to disappear after having realized his mistake.

If it meant he'd stay in your life, if only feebly, that was more than enough for you.

But this kiss...it was different. Tender, savouring, unwilling to pull away even tor so much as breathing air.

When your lips finally parted, you placed another, small peck to the corner of his lips. Your hands reached for his face, cupping it on both sides as if to make sure he's really there.

For a moment he pulls back, doubting his decision.

After all, the man in front of you was a shell of his former self, old and disfigured and broken. Petra was long since dead, you'd heard about the tragic circumstance.

He never wanted to give you the impression that you were just a last resort for when everyone else had forsaken him.

Noticing his internal struggle - an amazing talent only you possessed, since his expression was as still as a statue - you clutch the fabric of his shirt, gently tugging him inside. He has to lean onto you for support, stumbling into the all-too-familiar room.

You feel calloused hands on your body, caressing every inch of your exposed skin and sliding under your clothes. "Tell me to stop" he speaks breathlessly, sternly, "And I will."

Instead you frantically shake your head as you moan into his ear, one leg wrapping around his waist as he pushed you against the wall, busying yourself with rising blood on the skin of your neck. Fuck, he's missed your scent.

"B-Bed" you manage to wring out as his hand slips under your skirt, fingertips tracing the wet spot between your legs. He was eager, intoxicated one might say, but you could clearly feel how his own legs were close to giving in.

The thrill of the moment was briefly overshadowed by the humiliation of his new reality. In the past he would've taken you anywhere in the house, would've been able to lift you up and throw you onto the mattress if you so desired.

Another jab at his conscience that he'll never be good enough for you. If only he knew this was the way you'd always wanted him: Slow, passionate, caring...

"Don't worry about me" he speaks nonchalantly, yet the determination in his glare makes you shiver. Levi dropped to his knees just like that, his hands wandering upwards each of your legs. "Let me worship you."

You half-laugh, half-whine when he sunk his teeth into the flesh of your upper thigh, remembering how much he loved leaving little marks like love-letters on your skin. Old habits die hard, even when trying to be gentle.

Without hesitating, Levi twirls his fingers around the hem of your already dripping panty, pulling it down just enough to put his mouth to work. His teasing made you a whimmering mess, taking his time tracing kisses around the area close enough to feel his breath on your clit.

"Shi-it, Levi!" you let out a scream as his tongue slid along your folds, muffling your own noises by a hand on your mouth until Levi tugs at your arms. "I need to hear you, love. It's been too long."

And so you did, begging and moaning shamelessly as Levi ate you out like a man starving, palming himself through his trousers with eyes never leaving yours.

Hearing you like this made something in him snap, and yet you tugged on his hair, tugging him away just before you'd fall apart in front of him. "Not like this" you pant heavily, head spinning from lust, "I need you. Completely."

He simply nods at the request, unable to keep his hands from you even the short way to your bedroom. Your gown fell to the floor as he watched, a low groan escaping his closed mouth at the sight.

Time sure had taken a toll on both of you, he thinks as his knuckles brushed along your cheek, diving in your features that had slowly faded in his memory over the years...

...but your eyes, those damn beautiful orbs that showcased the love you held for him, they didn't change a bit.

And their effect on him was also still the same.

Before you first met he was sure that all those hardships had turned his heart into stone, but now this yearning had become a dagger he desperately wanted to pull out, make his heart bleed in reverence.

Levi was a man that spoke through actions, however.

Your fingers intertwined when he aligned himself with your entrance, searching your face to which you gave a permissing nod. He entered you carefully, adoring every microexpression, every reaction of yours when he started at a slow pace.

Even in his current state, his skill lacked nothing from his former peak: It was as if you could feel his hands and lips were everywhere at once, hitting all of your weak spots as if your body was a map he had learned by heart.

"I love you."

Your pupils were blown wide at his declaration, those words you had already long since made peace with to never hear coming out of his mouth.

A look that could only be described as pure affection plastered on his face, kissing along your collarbone up to your ear. "I love you, Y/N" he speaks again, more firmly now and smiling sincere as never before now that this self-inflicted weight had finally been lifted from his shoulders. "Always did."

Tears dwelled in your eyes, vocal cords lost their ability to form anything else than sobs and moans as your lips found his again, smiling against his mouth.

Words were never needed when it came to the bond of you and Levi, after all.

As his thrusts became more clumsy, ragged breaths whispering sweet affirmations barely audible to your ear, burying his hips against your pelvis as he rode you through your high. He followed closely after you came undone, stiling above you without any intend to leave this sweet escape he found in your arms.

Your hands rested on his shoulder blades when he felt safe enough to collapse in front of you, his head lying on your chest as your heartbeat soothed him just like back then.

He was alive. And you were his.

"Please" you sniveled, anxiety preventing you to endulge in the afterwaves of your ebbing high, "Never leave again."

You clung to him for dear life, limbs entangled as if he was just a pleasant dream that would disappear as soon as you dared letting go.

That moment Levi made an oath to himself: No matter his insecurities, for the rest of his life he'd dedicate to become the man you see in him.

There was a lot to make up for.

"If you'll have me."

[melobin]

it’s our one year anniversary!! and it’s absolutely surreal to me how much we’ve grown over the past year. i love melobin so much, i adore being here and i adore being able to share things with all of you and i can’t wait to share more of the things i have planned !!

the past year has definitely been a little rocky LFMAO i’ve been through three url changes and more than one silly ot6 accusation exposing post but i’m still here ! and i’m still adoring and supporting riize as a whole. it’s been a few years since I’ve found myself as in love with a group as i am with riize and im so incredibly grateful that i got to meet so many wonderful people because of them. from mutuals to anons to just people who interact with my blog, i really adore and appreciate you all, more than i can express in words. i’ve taken a few breaks in the past year, all mental health related but you’ve all been so understanding and i cannot thank you enough for that.

it’s quite overwhelming that melobin has gained over 3.7k followers in the past year, i never really expected much other than a few people to talk to when i first started my blog but im so happy with the little community we’ve created here and i can’t wait for it to continue 🥺 i truly adore you all.

the melody and friends discord server has been a highlight of melobin for me !! i love that server and everyone i’ve met through it, i wanted to create a community that was welcoming and comforting and friendly and i truly believe i’ve done that.

not to be too soppy but there’s definitely some people i’d like to personally thank for being here this past year.

@kkurokitty my jaye !! i love you and everything you do so much. you were there when i first created melobin, we had our little taerae pfps and urls 😭 things have definitely changed a lot since then but you’re since as wonderful as the day we met all those years ago and im so thankful to have you.

@leejeongz amy ☹️ not even god knows how much you mean to me. everyday we speak i feel like we’re closer even if we’re a whole train ride apart. having you back in my life has been one of the best things to ever happen to me and i can’t wait to see you again. manifesting riize come to the UK soon so we can go and see them together. forever the moon to my stars 💔 i love you so bad :(.

@rishimuras melomiu <3 i’m so glad tals forced you to join my server the day it was created. it’s insane to me that we’ve been friends for almost a year now because i still feel like the same girl who was scared to message you whilst also feeling like ive known you for years. you’ve been a big part of melobin and my life for the past few months and i adore you so much. i only ever wish you the best and im more than ready to take on anyone who threatens that. i love you !!

@01zfan parter in crime i fear … the only person im honoured to lose 100 lp with in one day after spam playing tft with our little duckbills and dowsies. i was your biggest fan before we ever spoke and i remember almost doing a (metaphorical) backflip when i found out you already followed me 😭 your writing has changed me as a person and im so thankful to have become friends with you over the past few months. we fight the ot6 accusations together and we get you to plat SOON. i love you !! 💖

@tsandoll bunny !!!!!!!!! i love you !! you’ve been such a support for me with melobin and i can’t thank you enough! i love our little roblox games and the amount of shit we talk, i’m always laughing whenever we talk it’s almost impossible not to. you understand my humour so much and even when you don’t you still laugh .. true friend !!! i really hope soon you can feel better and feel like yourself again, i love you 💗

@sonjuyeonnie i wish i knew what blog to tag .. my fake text proof reader .. but seo i love you you’ve been such a sweetheart to me since you joined my server and i’ve been nothing but proud of you since then. you’ve accomplished so much and im so happy to see you thriving in life. i know we haven’t been able to talk much lately because of work but never forget how much i adore you and how im always here 💖

with some other people .. @antoncore my cee, you’ve grown so much in the few months we’ve known each other and i’m forever proud of you and i can’t wait to watch you grow more, i love you !! … @bbina my smau queen, btl changed me as a person and i’ll always support you in every smau you write even if i don’t know the idol you’re just TOO good. you’re so lovely and sweet and funny i luv yewww !! … @wonbin-truther the prettiest girl !! you’re so sweet and funny and so so talented, your sohee smau was pure GOLD i loved every second of it and i love seeing you pop up in my dms with the most random message, i fear i love you so bad 💔

there’s definitely others and i do adore all my mutuals so much !!! you all mean so much to me and i can’t wait for melobin to grow more. to one year and many more ! 💖

[hesthermay]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄

PAIRING: bucky barnes x f!reader

SUMMARY: bucky barnes and the domesticity he deserves.

WORD COUNT: 1.1k

RATING + WARNINGS: general audiences, domestic themes, fluff. use of she/her, more fluff, use of y/n, more fluff. in my head reader works outside lolzies

NOTES: marvel!? again!? it never ended!! just switched to something else for a bit but hesthermay will always be a multifandom blog! i quite literally am attached to too many things for it to just be one anymore lmao. anyways!! this is apart of the lady may universe, all works will be labelled as such but remember they do not need to be read in any order or together at all! they can be read as standalone stories because they are all apart of a collection!!

MARVEL MASTERLIST LADY MAY UNIVERSE

The sun had just finished setting, the dark sky staring back at him as he stood in front of the kitchen window. 

Bucky Barnes wiped his flesh hand on his jeans before reaching up to readjust the phone wedged between his cheek and shoulder before it could fall. His other remained submerged in the soapy dishwater, metal fingers clutching the wine glass more delicately than his past self ever thought he could as he secured the device. “No, Steve—if you need me, I can come back.” 

The blonde man shot him down immediately, insisting that it would only be a waste. Bucky sighed deeply and quietly, knowing his friend was as stubborn as they came.. “Alright, punk; if you say so.” 

Truth be told, he did not want to go back just yet. As tired as he’d gotten over the years, the fight most likely wouldn’t ever leave James Buchanan Barnes’ life and that was just something he was going to have to accept. But when he’s here, in the tiny town in the middle of nowhere that was his very slice of paradise, there was no fighting. Only hard work and long days, warm evenings and calm nights, and loud laughter and dinners shared between two. 

The life that Y/N L/N had given him was not one he had predicted, but one he would never take for granted. It was…all he could possibly want. If the world were to end tomorrow, he would spend his last moments with his lips on hers. 

A tail hitting against his calf was what caught his attention and momentarily pulled him away from the conversation, glancing down at the plump dog stood next to him. Her eyes were trained on the doorway of the kitchen and the brunette knew exactly what she’d picked up on, a grin growing on his face as the last dish was dried and put away. 

“Steve, I gotta go, Y/N/N just got home…okay, okay—I’ll tell her,” he chuckled as his metal hand swiped a rag over the counter quickly.

“Tell who what?” A voice piped up from behind him and the cloth was soon abandoned as he whirled around. There she was, standing in the doorway dressed for work and looking like it’d been a long day of it, while still radiating the kind of beauty he swore he’d never get tired of.

Bucky’s grin grew into a smile impossibly fast for a man who used to be a shell, a weapon, but that wasn’t unusual for him these days. “Ah, speak of the devil and she shall appear,” he remarked, and was met with an eye roll from his love and a laugh from his friend, before pulling the phone away from his ear. 

With one click, Steve Rogers was put on speaker phone and thrown under the bus. “Stevie says you owe him a dinner from when he kicked your ass in beer pong.” 

“I did not say that!” 

Y/N’s laugh echoed around the kitchen and filled Bucky’s chest with joy. “Oh, well quit your complaining and get your ass down here then!” She called out as she made her way to the fridge, boots thumping against the floor. “And last I recall, there was no ass kicking. You barely beat me, Rogers.” 

Steve and Y/N got along great, and it had become obvious to Bucky very quickly that they acted just like siblings. Their dynamic mimicked that of an older brother and younger sister, and if they didn’t look so different it’d be hard to tell they weren’t related. If they were, Bucky knew she’d give Steve a run for his money. 

“I’m all booked up for the next few weeks unfortunately,” the captain’s voice filtered through the speaker, “but I wouldn’t be opposed to a visit after I clear everything up.” 

“Oh,” Bucky drawled out as he leaned against the counter, arms and ankles crossed in the very name of ease, “I bet you wouldn’t. Grandma’s cooking’s pretty good, right?” 

Another laugh was accompanied by the popping of a beer bottle’s cap coming off and the clinging sound of it hitting the floor. “You’re damn right!” Leaning down to pick up the trash, Y/N continued to speak to Steve but the mechanic had already gained tunnel vision. 

His eyes were on her everywhere she went, observing the way her lips formed the words but not really hearing what they were, the way her eyes flitted over to him every few minutes because she was just as obsessed with him as he was her. 

The life that Y/N L/N had given him was not one he predicted, but one he would rather die than take for granted. It was his greatest gift.

The sound of his name broke his concentration and he was brought back to the present, tuning in to the conversation to hear Steve saying his goodbyes, throwing a ‘talk to ya later, Buck!’ at the end before he hung up. The phone was forgotten, remaining in the same spot with a black screen as the family of two now focused solely on one another. Y/N walked to the sink, beginning to wash her hands as she looked at the man before her with a semi serious face. “I sure am glad Steve let you have a break even with this long mission. I was starting to go a little crazy,” she chuckled. 

“I’ll always find a way back to you, lover girl,” he replied smoothly with that crooked grin as one hand reached out to swipe a thumb across her cheek, wiping off the smudge of dirt left over from her day at work. She beamed at him and he couldn’t help himself, couldn’t stop himself from pulling her in for a kiss; a kiss that conveyed how much he’d missed her, how long he’d waited for her, and just how much he loved her. 

When they broke apart she laughed ever so softly, eyes a little out of focus as she recovered from the display of affection. “You gonna let me set the table, Barnes?” 

“I suppose I could,” he feigned reluctance, waiting until the very last second to release his hold on her face, hands slowly pulling away from her face where they were gently resting. 

“Thank you for making dinner, by the way,” she threw over shoulder as she made her way into the next room with the plates and silverware stacked in her hands, and he followed her with the trays of food he had prepared for them. 

“Of course, doll,” he assured, knowing that if not for her he wouldn’t be able to make this meal nor would he have the motivation to learn how to. This domesticity, the routine of home life, was utter bliss. 

The life that Bucky Barnes had gained was not one he ever thought was possible for him, but it was one he would never let go of. It was all he needed, all he wanted, all he’d dreamt of. 

all works on this blog belong to hesthermay.tumblr.com: do not copy, repost onto other sites, or claim my work as your own.

[ingo-ingoing-ingone]

A Personal Post

Hi guys, I'm finally making the post I kept telling myself and my best friends I'd make but wanted to put it off until I felt better. That hasn't happened and with how things are going I thought it was best to just post it now.

So for a while, since probably late 2023, I've felt less like my blog is for me, and more like it's some kind of fandom archive. Which, if you use it this way as-is, great! I'm glad my blog could make you happy like that! But that's not what I set out for it to be.

I'm the sort of neurodivergent person who likes to categorize things, including my interests. All my tumblr blogs are specific to one thing, and this one was no exception.

I began tagging things soon after I made the blog because I saw a lot of people were sad about the twins, and I thought "well since I love both sad and happy stuff, and I'm really good about categorizing things, maybe I can try and help!" And according to many, it did help!

But I think that also gave off the impression that I was making this blog for other folks, and that isn't the case. I'm sorry I never clarified. It's not an archive; I do not reblog shipping posts, posts from people I've blocked, AUs I don't click with, and sometimes just not everything I see.

I've gotten popular in the fandom, and for the most part I do, from the bottom of my heart, enjoy it. I have people who care about my hyperfixation! That's amazing! I have people who love my cosplay and want to meet up with me. I've made so many friends of all shapes and sizes and it's probably the most incredible thing I've ever experienced, truth be told.

But yeah my blog being mine has gotten away from me a bit, I think.

I want to keep tagging my submas tags, that isn't going to change. I will tag triggers when asked, unless it's kind of impossible due to the blog's subject (trains, for instance) or a name or really common word (like the word 'head' or something). Other than that please reach out and I'll do my best to remember. But other tags? Those will be up to me. I don't want to tag when OCs show up. I love OCs and like seeing them, and don't want to have to remember that one person who visits my blog doesn't.

I had anon off for a while because honestly ever since making this blog, there have been anons who really made me unhappy. (Also yes, non-anons but that's been fewer and far between). I've gotten misinformation, accusations, horrible and disgusting explicit asks, and criticisms and complaints, and I'm just... Not here for that. Keep the explicit things and misinfo out of my inbox, I am no arbiter of morality or personal decisions, and I am not here for you to share your negative opinions of submas or the fandom.

Anon is on for people who are too self conscious to chat face to face, for people to send fun headcanon ideas (remember when people did that back in 2022 when this blog started? I miss that, it was sweet and wholesome), to share song recommendations... That kind of stuff. If you have an actual problem, please, PLEASE talk to me off anon, whether that be DMs or a non-anon ask that I can answer privately. Especially if we're friends; please, please just talk to me about stuff. I don't bite! I swear!

But yeah the bottom line is I'm here to participate in fun (and sometimes heartbreaking!) fandom stuff. I'm here for FUN, not as my job. I know that we're all a bunch of neurodivergent folks and sometimes interactions can be a swing and a miss, but please try to be mindful. Please treat me like a person and not just like a museum curator for this blog.

Truth is, I haven't been okay for a while now. It's gotten worse this year for sure, and due to life stuff I cannot see things feeling better for me for some time. I need to go day by day for a lot of things, and I am trying to get better about needing to set boundaries and all that sort of thing. I suffer from intense paranoia too, and having so many eyes on me is genuinely terrifying at times. I'm trying to manage that as best I can, but I do ask that folks be kind.

NO I am not going anywhere, my blog is staying and will continue on as normal, but I really, really needed to get this posted.

Please continue to interact with me and chat and everything like that! But also please remember to treat this space, my blog, as my space. Thanks for reading!

[thelightsandtheroses]

Two: there goes the fear again

Your Hand In Mine | Joel Miller x female reader

Summary: When Joel finds you on your self-assigned insomnia bench one night, it sparks an unexpected friendship that quickly develops into more. Finding peace in the middle of an apocalypse always seemed impossible, but being with Joel feels natural, like a missing piece has fallen into place at last. When a ghost from your past threatens to destroy the peace you’ve found in Jackson, everything will change.

Word Count – 4.3k Chapter Warnings - 18+ blog minors DNI, description of a nightmare, insomnia, mentions of Salt Lake City, reader had a backstory and her age is not specified but an age range is lightly implied in this chapter, secondary characters and ocs, reader is a parent. Notes: Thank you so much for the kind feedback and comments so far - I’ve been honestly quite blown away by it all. As it's Joel's birthday today, I wanted to push myself to get this chapter out. So happy birthday Joel, sorry about the outbreak? 😂 Chapter title is from There Goes the Fear Again by Doves.

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The memories come back to you in flashes, framed with distorted static like an old VHS. They usually start in the years Before, nostalgia tinged memories that lull you into a false sense of security that tonight may not be so bad.

Sometimes you welcome it, the reminder of your family and life before. It was normal, it was filled with love and normality and peace. You had problems, like anyone else, but schoolyard bullies, your roommate and class assignments seem so trivial compared to what the world is now.

You’re by the beach, listening to the soothing rhythm of the waves, watching Sean surf as you pretend to study, scrunch your toes in the sand. You can feel the heat of the sun of your skin, the way you scrunch your toes in the sand and want to soak in every moment of this summer. You daydream of what’s going to happen once you start college. Will Sean still be your best friend as your paths start to digress? Will anyone even like you there?

You were still agonising about those trivialities on the night that the world ended right in front of you. In hindsight, you’ll notice the signs in front of you that day that something was coming, something was wrong. It was just a normal day though. The last one. You remember it all. So much loss, so many mistakes, so much fear. The memory of your family; of the last conversations you had with them, of how unsatisfactory that was.

Then it’s you and Sean and his little sister, Isabella, and you’ve got to find a new path. College feels like lifetime ago now.

It’s here the replay of your past becomes distorted; all black and white static and poorly compiled edits after that, time jumps and skips and sequences completely out of order. 

You’re in the woods and there’s blood stains on your clothes and you’re running and it’s never going to be far enough, it’s never going to leave you. It doesn’t matter how far you run; it’s buried under your skin now.

And then your mind goes to that place. To every nightmarish thought and the memories you avoid. It’s too much.

The blood. The flames. The shame.

It’s the fact you’ve bought a child into a world where monsters are real and you don’t know if you can keep them safe.

More memories.

Then it’s the fear; the unspoken terror that one day soon you’ll lose everyone, that you’ll just watch it unfold in from you. That you’ll be the only one left, doomed to loneliness and emptiness. That you’ll watch as everyone you love is taken from you; by illness, or violence, or such an innocuous looking fungus.

You’ll be left all alone and then they’ll find you.

Tendrils of anxiety twist around your body, constricting with each thought, each memory, each possible future, until you feel like you’re suffocating and your heart is racing and surely you can’t wake up from this.

It’s not real.

It’s not real.

It’s not real.

“Couldn’t sleep?” Joel asks placidly as you walk over to the bench, your rucksack casually slung over one shoulder. It’s clear that he’s been here for a while already but he’s left one side clear and ready for you.

“Just here for the view,” you say calmly, stuffing your hands into your pockets as you try and push away the lingering unease from your sleep.

“Aren’t we all?”

You sit next to him, playing your bag by the edge of your feet.

It’s been more than a week since he first came to your bench and since then you’ve had more run-ins with Tommy’s brother.  The two of you have seen several sunrises together in a wordless peace. Neither of you have truly acknowledged each other outside of the bench, nothing beyond polite nods in the community hall at mealtimes and the pleasantries you both would surely afford to any other member of this community.

You’ve spent each night on the bench observing Joel. You’ve quietly noticed his features; the freckles and sun marks, the way his eyes warm when he smiles or and the depths in them when he’s avoiding a subject.

There’s a lot you still don’t know about him.

Neither of you have talked much about the substance of your lives before Jackson. It’s to be expected though. These days, it’s safe to assume that if you’re still alive, it came at a cost and perhaps you don’t need to dwell on that.

You know Joel a little more now - each of you have given small hints about the person you are. Not a lot, not everything, but it’s just enough that Joel feels more real to you.

“I heard it was a rough patrol yesterday,” you say after a moment. Beau had told you all about the horde of infected they’d bumped into. He told you that him, Bonnie, Tommy, and Joel had almost been surrounded at one point.

Sometimes you almost forget about the infected. For a little while anyway.

For the past twenty years, most of the true terror you’d felt was at the hands of humans, not cordyceps. Were you frightened of losing people to it? Of course. Had your few encounters with clickers or runners been terrifying? Yes. Were you terrified of the world you’d leave your son one day? Naturally.

It was just in the QZs, in the worlds you’d moved in between then, you always encountered more humans than infected. The outbreak had changed everything and it had amplified so much; there was no court of law now, no shallow allusions of propriety no order outside of dictatorial QZs, so in some places, the anticipated lawlessness and loss of humanity was your true fear.

Jackson is an exception.

Joel looks down for a moment after you speak and you wonder if you shouldn’t have bought up the patrol at all.

“It was fine,” Joel says gruffly.

“Okay.”

“Do you go on a lot of patrols?” he asks.

“Sometimes,” you say. “Only when it’s my rotation. I’m mostly based in the library and sometimes I help Sean in the greenhouses too.” You pause and wonder if you should add more that you’re good with a bow and arrow now, but you still freeze in close contact.

After a while, as the breeze reaches your fingers and you regret not packing gloves, you reach down and pull a thermos out of your rucksack. You take a long sip, savouring the hot liquid and warming your fingers on the container.

You look over at Joel and then down at the flask in your hands.

“It’s just chicory coffee,” you say, offering the thermos to him politely. “A little dandelion root too I think.”

He looks at you curiously.

“Why?”

“I’m getting chilly, and it seems rude to sit here and drink coffee and not offer any to you.” Jackson has burrowed its way under your skin now; there’s no way you would have done this a year ago. Or perhaps it’s the bench, the magic of this place in the middle of the night. It’s like the rules you’ve built over the years can ease slightly here. The air feels just minutely lighter.

“Thanks.” Joel accepts the battered thermos, takes a long look at it, and then takes a tentative sip of the drink.

“Still nowhere near as good as the real thing,” you say wistfully. “And it’s caffeine free, but sometimes I can pretend it isn’t.”

“Better than nothing, I guess.”

“Exactly.”

“Where do you get it from? I know FEDRA had regular supplies and they grew it out in one of the QZs.”

“It grows wild around Wyoming and Sean’s cultivated a patch of it in the gardens too. Esther, in town, she makes it all. Esther’s definitely a good person to befriend if you want to keep a supply of it. She’s nice too.”

“Yeah, Tommy mentioned her.”

You smirk, imagining exactly the nature of the conversation between the two brothers.

“What’s that for?”

“Nothing.”

“Sure it is. Just you really seem to be settling into Jackson now.”

Joel shakes his head with a smile. “Don’t you start.”

“Okay, I won’t. So, how’s Ellie? I saw her in the library today, well, yesterday now,” you say lightly.

“Oh yeah?”

“Uh huh, she’s going through our space section pretty quickly. We’ll have to see what we can find on patrols.”

“Yeah, she’s really into space.” You can hear the affection in his voice; the deep love he has for her and that sense of pride that he knows this about her, knows about her interests.

“If any new books come in, I can put them aside for her.”

He looks at you with an unreadable expression. “Thanks.”

“It’s nothing.” You pause. “I think I get it. I never had a space phase, but I spent several months really fascinated with deep sea exploration when I was a kid. We moved to the coast and suddenly it was right there and I’d never thought about it before. I mean that I get where she’s coming from.” You have no idea where this sudden burst of honesty came from and you feel your face heat at what you’ve said.

“We’re a long way from the coast now,” he says softly. “Don’t think I’ve seen a beach in years.”

“No?” You smile sadly. “Me either. We’ve mostly only travelled inland since - well, since everything and sometimes I really miss it. Sean and I, we’ve been friends since we were kids and we used to just spend every weekend by the water.” You remember the start of your dream and fold your arms around yourself.

“What about you?” you ask, eager to change the subject and curious about the man beside you. “What was your thing?”

“I um,” Joel pauses as though he’s genuinely bewildered by being asked this question “I was into, uh -” He looks away from you. “The usual stuff, football and uh, all that.”

“Really? Just football?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Joel asks, folding his arms.

“Nothing, nothing at all.”

He exhales and stretches his long legs out on the bench more. You follow the line from his feet up to his body and eventually his face. He looks uncertain, as though there’s something he wants to add, but he’s not sure.

“I wanted to be a writer, or to work with books, or words in some way. Had all these ideas about being an investigate journalist, or an editor, or just ... I think I just wanted to make art of some type. It’s probably why I’m so focused on the library now.”

“Music,” he whispers. “I was really into that.”

“So, you played … something? Guitar?” You look at him and decide he was most definitely a guitarist. He has the look, might even have the hands for it.

“Maybe,” Joel says,

“Please tell me you were in a terrible garage rock band at one point?” You smile at the image this conjures of the broad and elusive man next to you.

“In high school, for a brief moment. Then uh, things changed for us all and I - I had other priorities in my life than music.”

“That’s a shame.”

“It was the right call.”

“Still, if you loved it … it’s never too late? Did you know, they sometimes do open mic nights at the Tipsy Bison, but it’s … ropey, some of it.” You grimace at the memory of the last one that Sean and Beau had dragged you to a few months ago.

“You’re really selling this to me, sweetheart.”

“Hey, until you’ve heard Seth sing karaoke, you truly haven’t hit rock bottom.”

Joel scoffs, a small smile on his face that crinkles his eyes and warms every feature.

You thought you would hate sharing your bench, or having an intrusion on your solitude, but you don’t.

Over time, you’ve perfected sneaking back into this house. There’s a way to shut the back door just so to prevent anyone hearing you wander in. You avoid the bottom stair which creaks, and the other creaky floorboards on the landing.

Every time you do this, you feel like a teenager again. You grew up reading books and watching movies where teenagers snuck out to and from parties, but that had never been your life. You were studious, deferent to the rules. Your focus was singular; college, success, making a name for yourself. Sean used to try and persuade you to join him at parties or even just when he and his friends would hang out at the beach in the evening after surfing. You had thought you had time.

The world had different plans for you all though.

By the time you’ve crept back to your room, changed, and got ready for the day ahead, you can hear the familiar sounds of cupboards being opened and closed in the kitchen below.

“Mornin’ sweetie,” you say, squeezing Gabe’s shoulder as you walk into the kitchen.

Your son squirms but smiles lightly when he meets your eyes. The last twenty years have been an unending endurance test, painful and exhausting, but now you have Gabriel. You weren’t ready for him; you felt too young, too scared, too everything. He means everything to you now though.

He wears so many of your features and mannerisms, or features you remember seeing in your family. You find it uncanny; that mix of uniqueness and familiarity all at once.

“Is anyone else up yet?” you ask, stifling a yawn as you scan the kitchen for additional cups or plates, any sign the others are awake.

“Beau’s still asleep but Sean said he’d be down in five -”

“Which means he’ll be down in ten,” you both say together.

You were offered separate houses when the four of you first arrived in Jackson. There was an entire house that Maria told you could just be for you and Gabriel.  After almost a decade of living in a small, crapped apartment in Kansas with too thin walls and continual threats it had seemed unbelievable. Sean and Beau had been offered the house opposite you too. Maria had recognised how close you all were.

There’d been too much death along the way though; too much loss. You and Sean had been together so much of it all too. You were close friends before the outbreak and now hopelessly and hideously co-dependent on each other. Even back in Kansas, your apartment had been next to his and Beau’s. For more than a decade, you haven’t had more than a single wall separating you.

The idea of being so separate, of being more than a wall away, in a new community prettified you. You were frightened about what Jackson really could be; what it could be hiding, how quickly you may need to run. You felt like a deer in the headlights, a wild animal being stalked by prey. For the first weeks in Jackson, the town itched your skin and filled you with anxiety. There had to be a dark side, it couldn’t be that simple. You all needed to be ready to run.

The four of you had decided to stay together, to stay close, just in case. It was meant to be temporary.

It’s been two years now.

It also means you never have to worry about Gabe when you sneak out at night, it means your son has his uncles in his life every day. It means you’re not alone throughout everything.

They’re only people you have left now - the family you both found and made. They are the ones who have shaped the last twenty years of your life.

You take a sip of your tea and smile at your son.

“So, small bit of news I asked if Uncle Beau could take me on patrol next week,” he says quietly after a moment. “He said yes.”

“No. Gabriel, you’re -”

“I’m sixteen.”

“I know.” You swallow and look at him carefully. You remember him being so small you could hold him in one hand but now he’s sitting opposite you and he looks both so young and like a man all at once. Patrols? That’s normal for him now, that’s the way of life in Jackson. He’s still so young though.

You hear a creak on the staircase and listen carefully as your son continues making his case.

“It’s time I started learning about this and Beau will watch out for me if you’re worried. He said the route next week is the best to get started with,” he says, brow furrowing with concern at your reaction. “I’m ready though.”

“I’m sure you are. I know Uncle Beau will be there with you, I’m glad of that.” It’s better if he goes with Beau. You know him, you trust him and he will ensure that your son is safe.

“So how do you feel about that, patrol? Is this your idea or have you been volunteered?” Your son starting on this path is one thing if it’s his choice, but if he’s only going along with this because he thinks he’s supposed to, or because of teenage peer pressure? Well, the consequences are a lot worse in your son’s world, than chunky highlights or double denim could ever have been.

“It’s my idea. I’m fine with it,” he says quickly, avoiding your gaze.

You put your cup down and raise an eyebrow at him.

“Ergh, look, okay Jesse did his first patrol last week. Please - I can do it, I know I can. I want to.”

You’re tempted to reply, ‘and if Jesse walked off a cliff, would you?’ If you say it out loud though, there is no way you can deny you are turning into your mother, so instead you take a long sip of your drink.

It feels like a losing battle. Patrols are part of normal life in Jackson. However, if he’s with Beau then maybe that’s okay.  If you know anything about Beau it’s that he is fiercely protective of the people he cares about. These days, that’s pretty much only Sean, you, and Gabriel.

“If you feel you’re ready and if Uncle Beau agrees and it’s a sensible patrol route … It needs to be in daylight, and just a short one.”

“Absolutely.”

“Okay.”

He beams in response.

“I’ve got classes, I better go.” He stretches and stands up, downing the rest of his drink.

“Okay, I’ll see you later. Love you. ”

“Yeah, you too, mum.” he says quickly, looking around as if one if his friends could secretly be listening by the window. He looks back at you and his face turns softer before he quickly moves away. “Hey Uncle Sean,” he says as they cross in the doorway.

“Morning Gabe.” Sean looks over at you and says good morning to you, says your name with a cheerful smile as he pours himself a tea and then sits down opposite you at the kitchen table. 

“How much of that did you hear?”

“I started eavesdropping when Gabe mentioned Beau and patrols. I thought you handled it beautifully, by the way.”

“You’re only trying to make me less mad at Beau.”

Sean raises his hands in mock surrender and then leans back against his chair.

“Anyway, are you going to tell me about where you went last night?”

“Where I went?”

“Heard you leave, sweetie.”

“I … shit. Sorry, I thought I was quiet.”

“You are.” He sighs heavily. “So, where’d you go? Got a late-night Jackson booty call I don’t know about?”

For some unknown reason an image of Joel fills your mind, his unruly hair particularly. He often comes to the bench with mussed up hair from where you imagine he was in his own bed, trying to sleep. You imagine other ways his hair could get messy like that; your hands in his hair as he ...

No.

No.

Absolutely not.

“You do have a hook up?” Sean asks incredulously.

“No. No. I don’t. I just go for a walk is all.”

“Alone?” Sean waggles his eyebrows mischievously.

“Yes.” Technically you walk to the bench alone and then you and Joel only walk back together so that doesn’t count … and his house is before yours anyway  It really doesn’t count, right?

“Okay,” Sean says, frowning. “Are you having nightmares again? Do you need to talk about it?”

You shake your head, biting your lip. “Do you?”

“I’m okay.”

You and Sean have been friends since you first moved to the beach town you spent your teenage years in. The bond between you is irrevocable. He’s your brother, your best friend, one of the people you love most in the world.

You share scars.

The same turmoil and trauma and ghosts have buried under both of your skins in different ways. He’s been there through it all for you. You’ve been there through it all for him.

He’s the only person in the world who will ever understand the parts of you that you keep locked in boxes you can never open. And for him? For him, you know the secrets that he hasn’t even told Beau.

“Gabe … he’s been asking me and Beau about … before. He’s asking questions again,” Sean says after a moment, looking around the kitchen carefully and speaking in a low voice. “I wondered if this patrol thing was about that at first, about what we all said and … it’s getting harder to not give him any specifics.”

“Me too, but I think it’s because Jesse went on his first patrol recently.” That’s what you’re hoping anyway.

“Huh, how about that? Look, it doesn’t matter because this isn’t going away. He’s going to keep asking.”

“This all seemed so much easier when he was a baby.”

Sean raises an eyebrow. “Yeah, I remember sixteen years ago, I wouldn’t say any of it was easier back then. It’s just the kid believed whatever we said with no questions.”

“Sean, tell me he still thinks …”

“Yeah. He just needs some details, honey. I know it hurts to talk about, but you have to give him something. He’s almost a man now and he’s got valid questions. I can - I would have been the same, so would you.“

You swallow and look out of the window. “I’ll handle it, Sean.”

You don’t flinch when you hear the crunch of Joel’s boots. You’ve come to expect it, anticipate the sound.

It makes you smile.

The bench doesn’t quite feel the same without him anymore.

“Howdy,” he says, the slight twang of his southern drawl more pronounced than usual.

You wave for him to come and join you on the bench.

“I didn’t see you here yesterday,” Joel says softly.

“Oh, I uh - was wiped out and I - I guess I just slept?” You notice how surprised your voice is there; you’re surprised you had a good night’s sleep for once, and you’re surprised that Joel noticed you weren’t there. In fairness, you had been due a night’s sleep as the exhaustion from your insomnia finally won out over your overthinking and anxiety. Gabriel had been on patrol with Beau that day and you’d worried yourself to the point of complete exhaustion.

Joel noticed though. He noticed you weren’t here.

“Were - were you here?”

Joel nods.

“Guess I’ve got sorta used to you being here too now.”

“I mean, it’s more the other way around. This was technically my bench first.”

“Really?” he says your name in a low, teasing voice. “You really wanna go there, huh?”

“I’m just saying. I’ve been here longer, technically and I’m saying this as a mere technicality, I have dibs on this bench.”

“An’ here I thought no-one truly owned anything in Jackson.”

“Benches are exceptions, everyone knows that.”

The two of you laugh, it’s light and somehow more soothing to you than the cup of herbal tea you’d drank before bed in the hope of repeating the night before and sleeping for once.

“I’m willing to consider joint custody or a small timeshare though,” you say.

“Oh wow, I’m real lucky.”

“I know. I wouldn’t bestow that right on just anyone.”

“I hope not.” Joel smiles and oh, you love it when he smiles. It’s so captivating.

“It got me thinkin’ though-“

“Sounds dangerous.”

“You know it. Anyway, I was thinking,” Joel looks away from you, towards the horizon and he wrings his hands together. “I guess it reminded me we have this whole world outside this bench.”

You’d thought the same thing, but you can’t say it. The words fall heavy on your tongue, your mouth feels like it’s filled with cotton.

“I wondered if maybe, you wanted to get a drink one day?” He’s not looking at you. “It’s a stupid idea.”

“No, no, it’s not. Why? Why would you want that with me?”

“Maybe I just want a drink with you,” he says.

You pause. Deflection is your standard response to something like this. The idea that Joel could want to spend time with you outside of your insomnia ridden nights surprises you. Why would he want that?

You can’t lie to yourself  though; there’s something about Joel that draws you in. He’s easy to talk to and despite appearances and town mumbling, you can tell he’s not a bad person. He’s kind to you, thoughtful and you’ve thought about him.

You’ve thought about him a lot.

“Technically we’ve shared my thermos of coffee multiple times now,” you say weakly.

“That doesn’t count, sweetheart.”

“Wow, now you’re spurning my chicory coffee now, huh? That’s not good enough for you?”

“A real drink.” You can hear the meaning behind his words and it doesn’t fill you with the caution you would normally anticipate.

“And does this drink happen to be served somewhere this isn’t this bench?”

“As long as it ain’t karaoke night.”

“You drive a hard bargain, Joel Miller.” You pause for a moment, tilt your head in mock contemplation. “Okay, a drink.”

You meet Joel’s smile this time.

Tag List

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If you want to be added to (or removed from) one of the tag lists, let me know or you can get notifications for @thelightsandtheroses-fics if you prefer. If you do not have an age or age range showing you are over 18, I will not add you to this list. I block ageless and blank blogs

[mistkisbiggestfan]

heyyyy i just wanted t ask if you could post a part two to white lion i have reread it so many times its totally ok if you are taking a break to work on mental health or would prefer writting stuff you choose this just a silly little request (sorry i there is spelling mistakes my english isnt that good)

Pidge / Reader | White Lion - Complete rewrite - Part I

Rewrite of the fic I still have up on this blog!!

A/n: I'm back?? I think?

Words: 1221

With insomnia nothing’s real, you learn that early on, everything’s far enough to be impossible to reach. Stuck inside an endless loop, a sort of unbreakable cycle. Back then; you were not ready for failure of any kind.

As a White Paladin of Voltron your sole mission was to protect other paladins and people around you. That’s all the White Paladin was, a glorified version of a healing pod, and you hated it. Everyone neglected you, not as a friend of course, but as a valuable fighter and defender of the universe. A medic was what you were made out to be, a brute by nature and a pacifist by force, all you could do was save, even if you tried to charge into battle you were quickly pushed off – back to the sidelines. Allura told you before; each Lion has a unique bond to a specific, and only one, Paladin. Sealed by fate, with no choice, you stayed.

The only one treating you fairly was your lover, Pidge. Both young prodigies, top students of Garrison, with a heart of gold and a particularly sharp and witty comebacks. Made for each other it seemed. They actually appreciated the help they got from you during and out of battle, that was, to your dismay, cut short. As war with Galra raged on, everyone forgot about any other struggles disregarding the threat across the universe.

Soon, Pidge began to share the view about you with other paladins, bit by bit, you realized that now, not a single soul believed in you being anything else but support — You were young, skillful in this specific subject, and rather weak at first glance, but you were more than that, more than what they made you out to be.

Often, on different restless nights, you were left wondering certain things. ‘Am I just a waste to them? Keith already said that, do others agree with him? What does Pidge think?’ All loose questions tied neatly with a string of paranoia and a hint of anxiety building up.  And like that, the overthinking pursued. No one even noticed you staying out of conversations, blindly following orders, no one noticed because it was making everything so much easier. Hunk asked you at times; “Hey Y/N.. you seem quiet lately, everything alright?” But just a few words were enough to shoo him away. “Yeah, don’t worry about me. I’m the White Paladin, remember?” You often said, but you never voiced the rest of this sentence you grew to mutter each day: “The one who is supposed to help.” And Hunk, begrudgingly, let go.

Keith outright believed you were too young and just a nuisance on the battlefield; you suspected he had something against you because you caught onto him and his feelings regarding Lance, as he, himself, wasn’t yet able to face those feelings. The thought that someone knew made him defensive. At least Lance was oblivious enough for this to not be too much of an awkward situation, from what all others knew, besides you it seemed, Lance and Keith hated each other. Or, at very least, strongly disliked each other's presence. At first, before you became a nuisance, your insomnia induced night walks roaming the Castle grounds were often guided by different team members, Shiro eased your mind by comforting, Hunk baked with you, Coran told stories of the White Paladins before you — not many, but still. Allura didn’t have to say a word, as you treasured her camaraderie dearly. Lance made a habit of beauty sleepovers, and even Keith offered you a sparring match from time to time, even though he still argued with others he disliked you greatly. At times like these, you often resided with Pidge. They had a bad habit of staying way up into the night to focus on their work, not from their insomnia, but from a severe case of workaholism.

You liked to walk into their room quietly, your own feet dragging you to their room as you hadn’t even registered. You walked all the way there, sitting down beside them as they worked away on their laptop. Without a word, passing out from exhaustion next to them, feeling safe enough to let go, even if it was only for an hour or two. Waking up tired, but not overwhelmingly lonely and disoriented, as their hand around yours grounded you like an anchor. But what times often do is change. Comfort made you weak enough to believe it’ll last forever, but with a heavy heart you realized — nothing does. Your life hit a rocky path, if it can still do that after getting dragged against your will into an intergalactic war with all hopes resting on you and other bunch of dysfunctional young adults, your insomnia got worse, getting pushed off to the sidelines too.

You were a Paladin, and with an actual bond with a Lion no less, so why were you stuck organizing missions with Allura as Coran talked your ear off? Was it stupid you were jealous of each successful mission, as they came back in glee and the thrill of winning yet another battle? Maybe. Did you still feel through it like an overwhelming blade stuck inside that twisted each time you realized you were just a backup plan? Yes. All you wanted was to prove yourself, you could be useful, really. But each time Shiro said that you’re enough, you felt as if the words hitting your ears were hollow. No one assisted your nightly walks anymore. Pidge was busy. Way more busy than you had ever seen them, there was no comfort in the galaxy you could give them for them to stop their work for even a second. Realizing that leaving them alone was the best thing you could give them, you did just that, and to your small heartbreak, you received no words addressing the fact, no complaints either. Getting as desperate as walking into the training room, in case Keith was staying up late too, you often were met with nothing. Sometimes, Keith was there, but most times your ears were met with sharp yet tired words; “You shouldn’t train this late, a medic shouldn't be half-dead each day.” And with a roll of your eyes, you often walked out.

Sometimes, you stood there a second longer, savoring the meeting, and letting the hatred built up as your mind was screaming: “I’m not just a medic! I’m a Paladin just like you!”. But in the end, you sat in that cold, and now, lonely, room of yours.

Your eyes scanning over the same wall you always faced. Tired gaze raking through the metal, dissecting it into pieces, logic you couldn’t grasp. At times like this, moments before shutting off from complete exhaustion, even you had no idea how to comprehend the drive that was pushing you at such times.

Maybe tomorrow, it’ll all make sense. Maybe tomorrow won’t be just a copy of today, which was just a copy of yesterday.

At least, tomorrow, you’ll finally go on a mission, after this whole time, which felt like eternity and a second, all too far to understand and grasp. With that thought, you had no idea what came next, as your exhausted body hit the bed.

You passed out.

Again.

[madlittlecriminal]

Xjdkdhckdkx I just found your blog and I’ve already read too many of your fics. I love the way you write for Jonathan Crane. It’s so refreshing to see my favorite character soft and sweet, it’s so cute. Too damn good!

With that being said, if I may, I gotta request this. I’ve noticed the man rarely smiles and doesn’t laugh throughout all three moves and it hurts my heart. Soooo, how about our good ol’ Murphy Johnny boy with a very playful reader that takes any and every opportunity to see him smile and hear him laugh. Doing cute, goofy things, corny pickup lines/jokes, playful tickle fights, and more. It can be in the form of headcanons or a fic. Doesn’t matter to me. Have a good day/night. Love yah!~

Menace ↦ Jonathan Crane × Playful!GN!Reader [headcanons]

you're very sweet :) im glad you love my fics for him and honestly, i know what you mean. it sucks to see him not smile often because aside from his beautiful eyes, Cillian Murphy's smile has me WEAK. but yeah, i like writing my characters soft because im a firm believer that no matter how grumpy they are, they will always have the softest spot for their significant other

Warnings: Jonathan Crane being the biggest softie out here

(im well aware this isn't from the dark knight trilogy, but like...look at his smileeee)

You were a menace in Jonathan's life, but he loved that about you

Especially when you'd jumps care him because...well, he was the Scarecrow, so it was ironic.

You'd also do anything to see him smile and laugh, so he'd constantly try to hold it all back, but you were you and he couldn't hold it back for too long

Especially when you'd tickle him in the middle of cuddle sessions.

He lowkey loved it.

Sometimes you'd ruffle his hair for fun to see him smile.

If he ever had a bad day, that was the perfect pick me up.

Then one time you threw a pillow at him to get his reaction which made him throw it back at you, hiding a smile

But when you threw it back, making his glasses fall off his face, he couldn't help but laugh.

"Why though?!"

Was his only question in between his laughter.

You then would casually slide a few dumb pickup lines his way.

"I would never play hide and seek with because someone like you is impossible to find."

He shook his head with a smile on his face.

"If you were a Transformer, you'd be Optimus Fine."

He shut his eyes and laughed.

He loved and hated your pickup lines because they were funny but stupid.

Since you knew he was Scarecrow, you'd wear his mask sometimes, pretending you were him.

"They scream and they cry!"

He couldn't help but cackle at your words as you slid on the wooden floors of his home with the mask on.

He told you about the incident with Falcone once, so he was surprised you remembered it.

Honestly, he loved when you put the mask on because when he'd put it on, it would smell faintly of your shampoo, instantly making him smile underneath it.

Even when you were sick, you managed to crack a few jokes which would make him chuckle, but he'd tell you to relax so you'd get better

"I hate how handsome you are. You're out here living your best life and I'm here with a cold!"

"You're still beautiful."

"Don't lie to me!"

The glare you'd give him would make you stifle a laugh as he gave you a ginger tea.

He loved how nothing stopped you from making him laugh or smile.

You once made a joke about how Batman could have "throw hands" with you if he caught your boyfriend again.

He couldn't deny how funny he thought it was.

I mean, sure, it would never happen especially with the skills Batman had.

There was a time where you wanted him to smile so bad that you squished his cheeks together, telling him he had to lighten up.

He took your hands off of his face and laughed.

"You're unbelievable!"

"You love it though!"

It was true.

You were his light, and he wasn't letting you go.

[deeppink-man]

The story of my childhood fondness for Silent Hill

※ Because English is not my native language, sentences can be awkward. Mostly aided by translators.

When I was about 12~13 years old (14 years old in Korea), I was attending an art academy, and one day, my teacher saying today is a special day and played a horror movie with snacks.

The horror movie was Silent Hill, and I was very impressed with it because I loved horror movies and horror games.

Now that I think about it, it wasn't a movie for children, but I was really into it at the time anyway, and I came to love it so much that I asked my teacher what the title of the movie was and wrote it down.

I searched about the movie and found out that it was made based on the game.

The first thing that caught my eye was the overwhelming design of Pyramid Head.

I drew pyramid heads using basic paint tools that existed one by one on my computer at the time, and I became a Silent Hill fan by posting them on my blog.

I started studying about every series and got hooked on the story of the game, looking up the story of the series one by one.

I was a student and young. So I couldn't know the money to buy the original game, nor the route to get it, so playing the game myself was close to impossible, but nevertheless I wanted to know all the information from every series.

The first thing I started liking was Silent Hill's monster design, but more and more I started to love the main characters as well.

(Unusually, my favorite monster was the Butcher who came out of Silent Hill Origin, not Pyramid Head. (IDK Why))

Anyway, I got to like all the main characters in Silent Hill, and I enjoyed drawing them. But as a student, it was difficult for me to draw them perfectly, which is why I practice drawing them in a cute way.

It's a little embarrassing, but it's a painting from my student days.

Back then, I couldn't speak English much better than now, but I still drew cartoons in English and drew a lot of fan art.

If you look at my childhood drawing notes, most of the hard-working paintings were Silent Hill fan art. (And I don't know why, but I used to draw both versions of Harry.(SH1 and SH SM) I accepted two versions of Harry as different personalities.)

It's been a long time, and I'm old enough to interpret and judge Silent Hill objectively. And my drawing skills have improved that much. Since I couldn't play the game myself and tended to rely on the fan art of the fandom and the interpretation of the fans, there was a different interpretation from the original.

Silent Hill is a great memory for me. I even draw cartoons about Silent Hill in my notes, and I also had a dedicated painting style that I practiced to draw Silent Hill fan art. This game means this to me.

So, this fan art means a lot to me. It's because these fan art are things that I draw while looking back on my old memories in a long time ago. It may sound strange, but I grew up with Silent Hill. Remembering them, imagining their stories, drawing them is a pleasure for me.

The conclusion of the story is, I started drawing them again after a long time, and it reminded me of old memories. Recently, I rarely drew fan art because I had to work on a webtoon project. However, it sounds pleasant to me that after working for a long time, I return to my hobby and that someone else likes it. Thank you!

I'm glad there are still so many Silent Hill fans. I still love this game, and I'm waiting for a new reboot. I hope reboot back a good way.

[crazylittlejester]

First time sending an Anon ask but kinda wanted to share some pretty dark BotW Warriors angst my sibling and I came up with without explicitly tying it to my regular blog. Btw it’s been a while since we came up with this AU and haven’t touched it since so bear with me as I try to remember it. It was inspired by a few art pieces and another fic I read that I forgot the name of.

So the whole thing was inspired by the Hero’s Shade. The concept goes that after each Link in the Chain dies they remain as ghosts in the world, waiting for the rest of the chain and being like guardian spirits of Hyrule. How the ghosts are here isn’t really important, just that they are. They spend time between times mostly just sleeping. When timelines split they themselves don’t, they’re just stuck in one time stream or another until the timelines remerge. The ghosts can sort of impact the living but can’t do many major things

Eventually 8/9(?) of the Chain are reunited in death. Chain as family and they all prepare to wait for Wild. They sleep so long but eventually Wild draws the sword and they all become aware of him. The ghosts trail after their ninth and watch over him from beyond the grave (gathering blackmail as they go) and also mentally prepare themselves for the eventual Calamity.

On the day of Zelda’s 17th birthday, the Links are a bit scattered. Most of them were with Wild, but respectfully didn’t follow him up Mt Lanayru. Legend and Hyrule were at the Great Plateau, Legend already asleep by the recovery bed in the Shrine of Resurrection (not wanting to see Wild die) and Hyrule wandering the structure.

Wars was at The Sanctum of Hyrule Castle.

Malice is a terrible thing that scars and burns even Spirit Dragons of great Wisdom.

Those who died because of Calamity Ganon and his Malice didn’t get to pass on peacefully, the Malice trapping them in their death throes and forcing them to relive their final moments for as long as the malice remained. These Ghosts were all over Castle Town and all throughout the castle itself, completely oblivious to the world around them and trapped in their pain and memories. These ghosts are called Damned Souls

For Wars It’s arguable much worse.

The Chain all rendezvous at the Shrine of Ressurection as agreed upon, wanting to sleep by Wild together so they could know when he woke up and accompany him from the start. After about a week of waiting with no sign of War’s, Time goes to investigate. He’s the first one to encounter a Damned Soul.

It takes a good week of back and forth from Time before he can stand the screams to make it through the castle all the way to the walkway to Sanctum.

At the edge of the small cliff, he sees Wars.

The Captain’s body is scarred with Malice, writhing across him in lazy patterns. He’s looking out over the Castle and Hyrule Field but doesn’t seem to be noticing anything. Time calls out to him. He doesn’t respond.

Time gets close enough to wave a hand across War’s face. While his eyes seem sharp and aware, they don’t track Time’s hand. He doesn’t respond.

Time retreats back to the Shrine with news of War’s fate. The entire chain refuse to back down until they’ve at least seen him. When they arrive at Sanctum once more, everyone tries to get a response from the captain, to no avail, until Legend yanks on the man’s arm to try and force him to turn around. With most Damned Souls’ it’s impossible to move them from their trapped position.

With War’s he’s forcibly twisted around and almost overbalances, yelping with eyes wide in shock as he tries to get his bearings with the sudden movement.

The relief is immense. Until it’s not when War’s reaches for his sword and draws it, eyes darting around without actually locking on anything as he demands whatever touched him step back.

Time taps in Morse code on War’s wrist “It’s us War’s.” The Captain is very clearly distressed about this, as is everyone else.

War’s is trapped in Hyrule Castle (they try to leave with him but an unseen force prevents him from leaving castle grounds). He can’t see, hear, smell or taste anything in the world (except Malice, he can smell and taste that). He can only feel things. He’s aware of his surroundings as much as he can be, and is aware of the passing of time (the concept not the person). When he tries to sleep, to wait for Wild to clear the Malice by defeating the Calamity, he quickly finds out that’s not in the cards for him due to his ambient pain from the Malice.

He takes to patrolling the Castle instead, after the Chain help him get an idea of the layout. For the duration of the month, he has a set circuit around the castle that he patrols, killing every monster in his path along the way. He clears the entire castle just in time for the blood moon. After the blood moon he repeats the route, killing every monster once more in an endless cycle.

Time teaches the Chain Morse Code (Which he learnt in the War of Era’s because War of Eras Trio is life) so they can talk to Wars. Time also spends the day of the Blood Moon with War’s, walking his patrol with him and keeping a hand on him just so he knows he’s there. No one sleeps through the century, instead trying to make it more bearable for their Damned Brother.

If it wasn’t for the fact that Twilight was waiting for Wild at the Shrine, they probably wouldn’t have known their ninth had woken up.

With Wild awake, between him, general keeping Hyrule monster repopulation down, personal space there’s not as much time for watching over War’s. It’s during one of these pockets where no one is with Wild or War’s that Wild makes his first foray into the castle to grab the memory, seeing The Captain for the first time.

Wild can see Ghosts, but only after the Shrine if Resurrection, and only really present ghosts so he was spared the horror show of Castle Town.

Wild doesn’t confess about his brief encounter with The Captain to anyone, not even Wolfie, but due to local legends (that it’s best to explore the castle just before a Blood Moon) understands that the ghost he saw is probably responsible. He takes advantage, but only recognises the true impact after meeting the (Alive) Chain.

Once Calamity Ganon is defeated, the Damned Souls are free to pass on to the afterlife, and War’s can see and hear for the first time in a century. Tearful reunions all around.

Afterwards, War’s still can’t bear to sleep because it reminds him too much of his Damned state. Instead he maintains his patrol around the castle, it being muscle memory at this point. Unless he wakes up by himself, the only way to wake him up is to touch him, as it’s a bit of a trancelike state and he isn’t processing verbal or visual cues.

There could probably be another angsty thing about Wild coming back from journeying with the chain and searching for War’s ghost. Or the Chain meeting said ghost, but this is already giant.

So yeah, chew on that for a while I guess. I’m not usually an Angst writer nowadays but I just thought to share one of my original War’s ideas. Feel free to do whatever you want with the idea, and who knows, maybe I’ll write for it on my main account someday.

TAKE MY FUCKING MONEY OH MY GOD, anon this is INSANE and I am EATING IT UP.

if you write this i am on my hands and knees begging you to tag me, this sounds absolutely fucking devastating /pos ‼️

[thefrogdalorian]

Hello! 

You may (or may not... I don't like to presume) have noticed my little break from posting. I just wanted to share something in case anyone was worried about me and assure you there is no need to be :) 

There isn't really one reason for why I've been on hiatus, but I guess a collection of things. 

I was really poorly with covid but thankfully I'm feeling a lot better now! But being so sick and stuck in I guess made me reevaluate certain things. 

Since recovering I got to see a lot of people I really adore with my whole heart, as well as being lucky enough to experience so many things I love with them.

And it made me realise what truly makes me happy in life. I suppose it really put things into perspective for me. I'm thinking more and more that tumblr (and being online generally) is something which unfortunately does not spark joy any longer. 

To be honest, (as I'm sure many people who were given far too much unsupervised access to the internet at a young age also do), I have a complicated relationship with social media. It doesn't make me feel good most of the time. I don't know how to handle some of the things I read and some of the things people have said to me. And just like I do irl, if the vibes feel off, I usually retreat into my shell to regroup. 

While I have made so many friends over the years of being chronically online and spoken to plenty of great people, I can feel myself getting drained again. And I really haven't missed it during the time I've been away.

I've filled my time with a lot of reading (I read Pride and Prejudice THREE times... doing amazingly), some writing and lots of long walks in nature. It's been really good for me!

As a result, right now, I just don't feel like continuing to post on this blog.

This decision wasn't caused by anyone or anything in particular. But when I've made my mind up about something, it's pretty impossible to change it. I've been mulling it over for a few days and my heart is telling me to go.

Anyway, I'm going to continue working on my WIPs and most likely continue posting them to AO3. It's by far the least social media-ish platform out there, and I really like posting on it. 

I need to take a step back to remember why I started writing, which was really as a way to get emotions out and to scream into the void a little. I don't enjoy sharing my work on tumblr, I kind of felt like I had to rather than genuinely wanting to. 

Truthfully, I just want to create and consume others' work in peace. I don't want to feel like I need to market my writing or whatever or compare myself to others. As much as I try not to, I think it's only human nature. 

So, I guess I'm really making this post to say I'll be going on a hiatus from tumblr. But I don't intend to stop writing or posting to AO3 and I hope to see you over there! 

I have no idea how long I'll be away for. Who knows... when winter comes around and my seasonal depression returns, or perhaps there is a major Mando update, maybe I'll return! 

For now, all there's left to say is how much of a pleasure it was posting about Mando and talking with you lot all these months. 

If anyone (mutual or otherwise) would like to keep in touch, feel free to message me for my discord! I'd be happy to continue chatting to you on there.

For me, in the headspace I'm currently in, one on one conversation is far less intimidating than being perceived by lots of people lol. 

I'll likely drop in at some point soon-ish and check for any of those messages, but until then, it's not a goodbye, but a see you later! 

Please care of yourselves and be kind to others :) 

Love,

Spud 🐸🩷

[chantsdemarins]

Find Tom: Part 2

(a little new art too)

The whole "soccer era" Tom was the push I needed to jump back into a Tom fic, although I am by far much more comfortable just sticking with Loki. I hope this isn't cringey. It’s not that great but I feel like it needs to be posted. 😑

⚠️It's mature so no under 18 readers!

❤️It's a love poem with not a lot of plot!

☠️I used some new smutty words

Lastly, I truly appreciate anyone who takes the time to read my work! No comment is too small, no reblog is unfelt. I wouldn't do any of this if I didn't have readers. You mean the world to me.

@lovelysizzlingbluebird @mischief2sarawr @five-miles-over @lokischambermaid @lokisgoodgirl @mochie85 @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @kats72 @fictive-sl0th @sailorholly @tbhiddlestan83 @peaches1958 @huntress-artemiss @goblingirlsarah @jennyggggrrr @mjsthrillernp @wolfsmom1 @lady-rose-moon @mygfloki @buttercupcookies-blog @lokixryss @simplyholl @eleniblue @kingtwhiddleston

Thank you-thank you-thank you!

Read Find Tom Part 1

He had stayed an extra week-you had called in to work with hope and a prayer you wouldn’t lose your job.

How could you have known that the remarkable business of bedding a movie star not only included being passionately taken on every mid-modern furnishing capable of withstanding Tom’s athleticism but also came replete with nuanced discussions of such things as little-known facets of British history?

A mere night with this man would have been impossible. His words alone filled the time so completely while his cock took up the rest of the hours left in the day. You needed a lifetime but would have to settle for a week. You also felt like Tom’s spare thoughts were enough to earn him a second Cambridge degree.

You often found yourself pouring strong coffee between glasses of Cab to keep your mind sharp enough to ask intelligent follow-up questions. Which you always did. It was impossible not to notice how his conversational ability effervesced through him, a surging sparkle that galvanized in his eyes, creating a disproportionate lure and the impulse to return the enchanting discourse in kind. Over the course of the week, you had time to observe how many of Tom’s features would appear as backdrops to his emotions.

Like the plane of his nose, its pristine alpine slope, when he was grinding his hips into you. Or how his smile consumed half of his face while his lips found yours.

His eyes were mesmerizing vehicles of his intellect like twin comets streaking the sky. You had to watch them. You couldn’t take your own eyes off them. He saw not only you but what was beyond you, possibly what you would become. He had a witchy sense.

Also, strangely when you least expected it, a pallor of sadness would also occasionally descend between your bodies. A departure from his enthusiastic nature that usually led the way. It was clear something had made a lasting impact on him. Was it another woman? A situation? Strife of the elite? Champagne problems that you could never understand. You wanted to ask him to tell you, but you let the sadness be a silent companion to your passion.

All this revelation was amplified in the vintage quiet of the Sea Ranch cottage you had all to yourselves.

That first night, he took you easily. Perhaps embarrassingly easy. After all, you’d been wet since you saw him from across the crowded room. An uncomfortable distraction while you talked about your lives and listened to the quartet play The Lark Ascending in the main room of the after-party. Something about the tender violin and his deep voice from a place far away. The details. The decorations, wild peach-colored streamers blowing in the ocean wind battering the rafters. A hum in your ears.

The way he leaned in closer when you knew he could hear you. You’d swallow him up if given the chance. Later at his Sea Ranch cottage, what felt like an eternity after so much conversation and ephemera, you were finally a crumpled passionate mess. You remember looking down and seeing him finally enter you, the implications, the spectacle.

You felt your breath leave and never quite return.

Later as dawn coursed through and put the evening to rest, Tom made sure to use the California poppy napkins to tidy you both up but stopped himself short of a full janitorial protocol. There was something a little wicked about his disregard. He liked seeing you wrecked. He liked seeing the lingering elements of the sex you just had, still on you. He didn’t want to make things too neat. You felt exposed but did not want to assemble a wall between you.

The instinct was that of vulnerability. Only sometimes found in casual romance. Only sometimes experienced by you.

By Tuesday, Tom’s effulgent historical discourse had fully found its way into your conversation yet again. You sat on the ocean-facing porch in two aging red deck chairs, a temptation for Tom’s fingers. He easily peeled off their flaking paint and collected it into a neat pile on the property’s 1972 glass Sands Hotel ashtray.

He would continue to move the small pile around with his long finger mixing the chipped paint with the singed tobacco and marijuana wrappings from the day for the hours you talked. Tom would grow quiet only when he rolled his own cigarettes one-handed.

You wondered if he smoked back in London or only when on holiday or business, or as an affront to suffocating California standards of healthy living. The sea wind picked up and moved through his rust-colored hair, salt air conjuring it into full attention.

Apparently, he had forgotten his blow dryer, but now, surprisingly, he seemed besotted with his curls. He ran his hands through them as he resumed your previous conversation.

You tried not to lose your concentration on the details. Tom’s mental ephemera began to have a companion in the details of his being you were collecting in the hallows of your own mind. Topics spun wildly from one to another but often fell back into history and philosophy. You prided yourself in keeping up, even if you had to use the cottage's old ethernet cable and early 2000s PC to look up “ontology.”

"British history is rife with privileged white opportunists, wouldn't you say?" His words were intended for both the relentless waves below and you as he stared off into the inky distance. That was quite the conversation shift. You had both just been talking about Steinerberg, Switzerland. He’d been while filming The Night Manager. He went on.

"Take William Bennett, for example, a complete ass."

"William Bennett?" Repeating his choice of subject often gave you a few vital seconds to collect your thoughts.

"Indeed. He essentially earned his fame from an aquatint print of the New York City fire in 1836. The untold story is that he bought the original sketch from an impoverished Italian artist, Nicolino Calyo. Calyo was there amidst the 700 homes succumbing to flames. Bennett essentially duplicated it, and therefore, as a wealthy, idle British artist, he managed to elude any consequences." You scrunched your nose in a silent response before replying.

"And Calyo?" you finally ventured, already anticipating Tom's reply.

"Naturally, he ended up dead and destitute. The old D and D, if you will.”

You laughed but felt a parallel emerge within you. Your life seemed uncomfortably akin to Nicolino Calyo's. Your mind raced - was Tom, beneath his casual Louis Vuitton button-down, a modern William Bennett? Your thoughts looped back to yesterday's breathy exchange after you’d gone down on him and where you confessed that after a long hiatus, you'd begun painting again. Was he secretly archiving the ideas you'd shared about your nascent series, ready to unearth them during his leisure in Margate - a place allegedly sharing the "spirit and design" of Sea Ranch? While Tom moved your things inside as the chill of the evening overtook you both, your mind was fixated on your previous conversation.

In your carnally vexed state, you'd unveiled your infatuation with the hues of mint green, adobe red, and translucent pink. His curiosity had been particularly piqued by "adobe," which led to a discourse on the disparity between the tangible "true adobe" and the digitized shade we've now associated with the word.

He reflected on his time in New Mexico during the filming of the first Thor movie, where he was first introduced to the color scheme of the American Southwest. It had been a captivating conversation that moved fast. An image of Tom as a reincarnated William Bennett, unveiling his own mint green and adobe masterpiece at a glitzy auction event eight years from now felt lodged in your mind.

Apparently, this emerging anxiety of trusting such a departure from your usual type of lover was hard. None of your other partners would still an idea you had for a painting and make millions from it, but of course, neither would Tom. You were becoming irrational. You poured yourself a new glass of wine, emptying another bottle. Closing your eyes for a moment by yourself while Tom assembled the next part of your evening with his usual intentionality intact, even if he didn’t catch your mood. He tracked even the tiniest details in the short time you’d spent together. You wondered if his sadness had descended, preventing him from noticing.

The next day you made love in the early morning hours, savoring his body. He was deeply asleep his naked luminosity shining against the white of the sheets. Tom still smelled like the rosemary he had picked from the bushes out front. You had watched him in his running shorts and nothing else, springs of rosemary in his hands.

He remarked about how wild rosemary doesn’t grow in England; at least, he didn’t think so. He joked he would take some of it back in his suitcase. He’d smell like California. He’d smell like privileged things like taking an extra week off. At that moment, you had felt his lineage as if a halo surrounded him - an impenetrable force field.

The afternoon found you both in the living room, wrapped in tartan blankets, partaking in an improvised indoor picnic. Tom had run a 10-mile round trip to Jenner's only grocery store. The sight of him returning with baguettes, ham, brie, and more wine bottles settled his existence in your mind as a true enigma. His sweaty, proud smile covered his face completely as held the baguette up to the sky in a triumphant cheer. You ran to him and held him around his middle.

You always loved the way tall skinny guys felt. It was a too-familiar gesture for such a casual situation, you tried to pull back, but he nestled his head into the crook of your shoulder. You closed your eyes and heard only the ambient sound of birds.

The morning of the sixth day, you dressed in his white undershirt and boxer shorts. You both reveled in the amusement of exchanging clothing items to create new outfits each day. The addition of Tom’s packed subtly luxurious clothing gave you both interesting options. His Armani suit jacket with just your black underwear. Tom amusingly in your skirt, paired with his unexpected choice of nude suede Herve ankle boots.

Your scarf and his sleek Ray-Bans. His running shorts were cleverly repurposed as a strapless jumpsuit. In the end, the clothes would always come off. You would be naked. You would have your hands consuming one another in a shocking discovery of hidden pleasure. The responses were the truth.

The thing you both could trust. In his sighs, in the warm breath that haunted your collar bones. In the flush of his cheeks. In the sweat on his forehead or the goosebumps on your arms when his fingertips traced the edges of your body with the precision of an engineer, you held on to the touches, the utterances of euphoria. With every orgasm, you felt the incredible raw honor of being human.

You wanted to slow it down long enough to feel it truly. To feel a king cuming inside you. To feel his cum and his claim while lost in the gravity of his eyes. Those magnificent extensions of his brain were a lifeline. Your bodies became sculptures, black quartz in the hot sun.

By Sunday, the end of your time together had finally found its way to you. He whispered in your ear after pulling out, catching any breath he could. He could only stay until Monday, he had to go back to London. You stared at the slow oscillations of the Casablanca ceiling fan. “I’ll miss this,” your words were an echo of the real words you longed to say.

His eyes closed, lashes casting delicate shadows on his cheeks.

The woman he would one day choose to marry, you thought, God help her. She would undoubtedly be transformed if your brief moments with Tom were any sign. However, for some melancholic reason, you knew it wasn’t going to be you.

You weren’t destined to be the lover who would eventually turn into a wife. He only had room for the ecstasy of passion and intellectual tête-à-têtes. This affair was incomplete, with no clear conclusion in sight. It wasn't a tale like that of William Bennett and his ill-gotten fame through art theft—a story with a beginning, middle, and end.

No, this was something else entirely. Suddenly, as if he was privy to the endless stream of inner thoughts, Tom spoke. "I met you at the right time, y/n," he said, his piercing blue eyes now open.

He jumped out of bed and casually dressed, slipping on a single item of clothing or, more accurately, an accessory — his Gucci belt wrapped sideways around his bare body. It was difficult to concentrate as he strolled past the expansive windows of the cottage. His muscles and his semi-hard cock were the only things holding that thing in place. Your cheeks grew hot. Tom followed up his emotional revelation with a more practical question.

"Shall I make us eggs on this, our final morning together?”

Without waiting for your response, he ventured into the kitchen, energetically rummaging through the cabinets in search of pepper before swinging open the refrigerator.

As he busily prepared breakfast, his underlying sadness was emerging, defying the rational part of his mind that wished it weren't there. Balancing a glass bowl against his stomach, he swiftly began whisking eggs, his intense gaze fixed upon you. This prompted you to inquire once more, "Why is this the right time, Tom?"

He continued whisking the eggs as he replied, "You found me, truly. Sometimes, we serve that purpose for others, akin to amateur archaeologists. Returning to London, I will be more whole, not less."

You found yourself fidgeting with the hem of Tom's t-shirt you were now wearing.

"You desired this life you have didn't you? You wanted fame?"

"I don't know, y/n. I wanted to do what I loved," Tom confessed, pouring the frothy mixture into the heated pan.

"I doubt it’s that simple, I'm sure you've had to make difficult decisions to reach the top."

"Like parting ways with a beautiful woman I met while on an extended work trip?"

"Yes, exactly like that,” you struggled to say.

"It happens all the time, love, all the time. Regret is my middle name. Thomas Regret Hiddleston."

With that sentence, he refocused his attention on cooking, his hands and mind engaged in a synchronized activity not unlike sex, serving a similar yet less emotional purpose.

You discovered a tablecloth tucked away in the back of a cabinet and spread it over the aged blonde table. Professionally, he placed the plates of food before you.

"Quite the last supper we have here," you remarked, attempting a joke to mask your emerging underlying sadness, though failing in your intended delivery.

Your gaze fell to the floor, unable to meet the sunlight streaming through the windows or Tom's eyes. He continued in his relational eulogy, "Its breakfast, y/n, and many more will come. Someday, you'll have a partner, and I'll have someone too. We'll be enjoying meals with them, and something will trigger a memory. Perhaps we'll be by the sea on vacation, and you'll remember me, and I'll remember you."

So he was thinking similar thoughts as you. He did not feel he met his future wife at a Bay Area film festival after-party. It was a long shot at best. You nervously tried to continue talking.

"Of course, not simultaneously. How could we possibly know if we remember each other at the same time?"

"We will never know, y/n. We will only remember each other out-of-sync for the rest of our lives."

With that bittersweet but strangely truthful statement, he reached across the table and gently took your hand and kissed it. You wouldn’t watch him leave late that night. You skipped the coffee after the wine, and poured yourself another, watching the moon reflect off the darkness of the glass.

[hlficlibrary]

Hello, I love the blog. I've found many fanfics that I loved because of it. I have two things to say: one is a question and the other is a recommendation. The question is: do you accept fanfic recommendations? Sometimes I read some wonderful ones that were posted a while ago and that I've never seen anyone talk about before and I'd like you to I wish more people knew about them because they are so good. The recommendation request: could you recommend any angsty fanfics with a sad past? Something with found family but not necessarily like it usually is with a focus on other characters beyond H and L Like it could be like that if it doesn't have one but I would love one that didn't focus so much on the other characters. I I don't usually like angst fanfics but I want to read something really sad with a traumatized character (I don't have a problem with any triggers). Thank you in advance!

Hi, anon! You're very welcome! To answer your first question, yes, if you'd like to recommend a fic, you can definitely do that! If you want to just send in an ask with the fic you're recommending, I'll post the ask with a link to the fic along with the summary. As to the second question, here are some fics that fit what I think you're looking for...

Pour Your Heart Out by @hrrytomlinson

Louis is his soulmate. Or at least Harry thinks he is. Louis feels the same as Louis. But there are a lot of people named Louis in the world and this Louis might not be the Louis. It’s besides the point though, because Harry knows he can’t allow himself to get close to any boys. He just can’t and he’s told himself this multiple times. He has to simply stay away from Louis Tomlinson. But he can’t. Harry Styles can never stay away from Louis Tomlinson. It’s physically impossible for him to.

and so I have to say (before I go) by we_are_the_same / @so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed

Sometimes falling in love is taking a leap of faith, jumping into the unknown with your eyes closed, hoping someone will be there to catch you.

Sometimes falling in love is seeing the person in front of you, all their flaws and imperfections, and taking that leap nonetheless.

Sometimes it's both.

In Louis' and Harry's case, it's both.

This Multiplicity of Powers by @helloamhere

Maybe in another universe he isn’t different. Maybe he hadn’t been given an impossible choice. Maybe he wouldn’t have lost everything and broken everything and then fallen impossibly, irrevocably in love with the first next thing that was kind. Maybe in that universe he doesn’t feel like he’s never breathing, always pretending, teaching the kids even though they all have to learn alone, trying hard not to read the headlines, and so afraid, every day, that he won’t be a good enough teammate to the superhero he can’t live without. He knows that love isn’t supposed to feel this way, slid secret under your skin like a surgical razor, an invisible war held close over the tender vein that keeps you alive. On the other hand, Louis wonders, had he ever known how to do it any other way?

Maybe there’s a universe where he doesn’t have to keep all his secrets on the inside.

But this isn’t that universe.

//an X-Men AU.

Train Tracks and Porcelain by @jaerie

At the first hint of light, Louis was slowly brought back to consciousness by the growing swell of activity around him. It started in the distance with loud clanks and clatters and rose with the hollers of men and thudding of boots against the solid earth. He listened as he blinked the sleep out of his eyes and tried to place any sounds he was familiar with. It took him too long to remember that he wasn’t back in his rented room. The energy was what floated to him next, a buzz that made him peek through the leaves to see what was going on.

The next moments happened in the strange slow motion of dawn. Shadows were forming into people and things and, there in the middle of it, Louis watched the humongous head of an elephant emerge from a box car right in front of his eyes.

Or a Water For Elephants inspired AU

ETA: Here are some more mini angst recs to check through!

✤ Angst / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4

✤ Angst under 20k

✤ Angst with a Happy Ending

[kirain]

I've been on this site for over ten years and I've never had to do this, but sadly the time has come where I feel forced to make a call out post, if only for the safety of my blog.

Please do not harass this person. PLEASE DO NOT HARASS THEM! That is not my goal here. That said, I do suggest you avoid them at all costs, for your own safety and sanity.

A few days ago, I made a post responding to some anonymous hate I received regarding Gale Dekarios, a character from BG3. An account named Turtwg, who has now changed her name to Shdowheart, took issue with the content and tone of my post. Instead of simply blocking me, she attacked me and several other people in the notes, and accused me of sending the anon to myself.

I responded, arguing against her accusations and a few other remarks she made. Just typical fandom discourse. Or so I thought.

I regret it now (only because I've lost some evidence), but I deleted many of her and my messages. They were clogging up my post and veering extremely off topic, but eventually she admitted I didn't send the anon to myself. When I asked her how she knew that, she said she traced the anon to a Gale-centric account. You see, she believed the anon wasn't sent by an Astarion fan, but by a Gale fan trying to create discourse. In a normal situation, I'd say that's a fair assumption for anyone to make, but something seemed off.

First of all, despite several people telling her it's not possible to track down blogs through their anonymous messages, she insisted she found the user responsible—which honestly made me wonder if she sent the anon herself, hoping to create drama. If she did, then mission accomplished, I guess. We messaged back and forth in the notes for a while, with me commenting on both the impossibility and morality of tracking down an anonymous user. During that time, her responses to me were lightning fast. Constant. Remember that for later.

Second, she soon told me she had the anon's IP address, which she said she'd "happily send me". I told her an IP address doesn't prove anything because it can be photoshopped and a lot of people use VPNs. I also pointed out how utterly insane it is to dox/cyberstalk someone over a post about a video game. It's really not that serious. But out of sheer curiosity, I told her to give me the blog name. Not because I believed her, but because I was curious to see if she'd accuse a popular blog or someone who could defend themselves. The moment I asked, she went silent for nearly an hour. 🤔

When she came back, she gave me the name of an account called Dekariosbf. She told me to message the account, so I did, though I made no accusations against them yet. As I waited for a reply, I accused Turtwg of making the account herself, as it was barren with no activity whatsoever. No likes, no posts, nothing. She easily could've created the account during that hour of peace. Moreover, after she gave me the account name and I accused her of creating it, her responses were once again lightning fast. 🤔

As we argued, I sent my brother-in-law and a friend of mine a link to my blog and had them read through the discourse. They don't have Tumblr accounts, but they're both computer nerds and my brother-in-law literally works with computers/programs for a living. I asked them if anything Turtwg said was valid, and they (along with someone else in the notes who claimed to work in UI/UX) confirmed that no, absolutely nothing she said was valid. Tumblr pays for a service that protects their users, and the only way to trace anons is by using extremely unsavory and illegal methods ... and even then it's extremely unlikely to work.

Speaking of, my brother-in-law eventually messaged me and told me he found the actual account that sent the anon. I stupidly believed him and jumped the gun on that, because it turns out he was just being a shit disturber. That said, I used this information to call Turtwg out on her lies. In response, Dekariosbf miraculously (and in a rather timely fashion) responded to me. Unfortunately I don't have any screenshots of this interaction, but I'll explain why in a moment.

Dekariosbf was chatty and cordial at first. I asked them for their main account name, but they refused to give it, saying they only use it for poetry; which, as you can see from the screenshot, directly contradicts their bio, but I digress. I was suspicious, but also kept in mind the possibility that this might've been an innocent person Turtwg accused. For a while we shot the shit, talking back and forth about BG3, reading, teaching—but I did this for a reason. I wanted to get a feel for their writing style. Sure enough, they wrote exactly like Turtwg. Same spelling mistakes, same pattern of punctuation, same use of lower case letters instead of capital letters, same abbreviations, etc.

Finally, when I was sure it was her, I dropped the bomb. I very gently told "Dekariosbf" that someone named Turtwg accused them of sending me a hateful Gale anon, but that I didn't believe it. Low and behold, they did a complete 180.

"Yes, it was me. It was totally me. I just LOVE your blog and RESPECT you so much. I LOVE Gale and I wanted to know what you'd say if I sent that anon. It wasn't meant to be hateful. Please don't write a call out post about me. Please don't tell your followers. I mean, I understand if you do, but please don't. Turtwg messaged me and threatened to dox me and sent me a photo of my IP address. She's so smart, I don't think you should mess with her. Oh and my mom can't speak English. If we get doxxed, I think it would kill her."

Right...

I said I didn't believe them and accused them of being Turtwg on a sock account. They kept insisting they weren't, begged me to believe they sent the anon (and I mean they were desperate for me to believe it), and very strangly didn't express any anger or confusion over the situation. When I brought up the accusation, they completely changed their tone from friendly to "oh yeah, that was me". I kept saying I didn't believe them, particularly because of what my brother-in-law said, but promised not to call any attention to them. I was happy to simply let the matter rest. Suddenly, mid conversation, they deleted their entire blog. Poof. It's gone now, along with all our messages.

I thought that would be the end of it, but not even five minutes after Dekariosbf flung themselves into the void, Turtwg herself DMed me out of nowhere and accused me of trying to hack her account, presumably because I told "Dekariosbf" that my brother-in-law is computer savvy. Keep in mind that before this moment, our entire conversation took place in the notes of my post. I never DMed her, nor did I have any intention of doing so. I also had absolutely no idea what she was talking about, I just knew she was lying to me. Now it looks as though she's ramping up to lie to the Tumblr admins in order to get my account deleted.

And all because my post about a video game made her angry.

I really hate drawing attention to this. You can see in my other posts that I always censor people's usernames, but as I said at the beginning ... I don't feel like I have a choice this time. I want this up so the Tumblr admins or whoever can see it.

Turtwg has attacked other people for posting their opinions as well. For example, she attacked this person just because they expressed their opinon on wyllsterion. She went so far as to call them racist when Wyll is literally one of their favourite characters. She just got mad because they don't think Wyll and Astarion make sense together; a perfectly valid opinion. And I only know about this because I received messages warning me about interacting with Turtwg/Shdowheart from someone who recognised them in the notes of my post.

I guess I should've blocked her from the start, but I've said many times in the past that I enjoy a good debate. Plus I was genuinely curious to see how far she was willing to take her lie. Unfortunately, I underestimated just how unhinged she truly is. On her own blog, she's even admitted that she's had to make a new account seven times, likely due to other drama she started.

I was very hesitant to put this in the BG3 tags, but since that seems to be the fandom she interacts with the most, I figured it would be a fair warning to anyone else she might harass. She's particularly active in the Astarion/Wyll/Wyllsterion tags. Stay safe, everyone. I think I'll sign off for a while. I'm tired, and this has somehow become the most toxic fandom I've ever dared to be a part of.

Please do not harass this person. PLEASE DO NOT HARASS THEM! That is not my goal here. That said, I do suggest you avoid them at all costs, for your own safety and sanity.