#makes me happy to know that am hates me and a few others in particular just because of this

[mayday-01]

-me looking at my ihnmaims art of am-

-looks back at this-

good job, me.

the funniest thing about tiktokers woobifying allied mastercomputer is that it actually interacts with the themes of IHNMAIMS in a very interesting way.

a big focal point of that story is AM despising humanity for giving him sentience and intelligence without embodied sensation, without the ability to give and receive affection as they do. the transformation he inflicts on ted is of course a parallel to AM's own state of disembodied consciousness (i have no mouth and i must scream), but AM is also punishing ted specifically for doing what he cannot. for acting out of mercy and empathy in order to save the other humans at his own expense. I think AM despises that altruism because he envies it, because he can't fathom the softness that humans are capable of even after time and trauma have warped them beyond recognition. AM hates the human capacity for empathy because he can never experience it himself.

So the fact that some kids on tiktok read IHNMAIMS and immediately responded by pitying AM, by making angst edits and expressive cosplays and humanized fanart, is strangely beautiful. like I think it would really piss him off. the human capacity for kindness runs so deep that we would extend empathy to the personification of our hate.

[jo-com]

Oscar but with a very dear-like girlfriend (she's very shy, skittish and very rare to see on social media because she avoids the cameras like the plague)

🩰 ‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ ୨ৎ ➛ Bambi

Oscar Piastri x Fem!reader

Summary: Based of the request☝🏻

Genre: Fluff and a little bit of SMAU

Fc: Kathryn Bernardo

Note: there are some grammar errors and i am sorry if i just answered this request now, i was finishing some of my og works in my draft soo i hope you enjoyed this!!.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ➛ My Masterlist

─────── ─ ⊹⁺ 💋⋅˚₊𐙚 ─ ───────

The bustling city roared with excitement— the mix of music and chatters filled the lively streets. Within that, two friends were walking amongst the crowd when they suddenly spotted one particular driver that was walking at the side with a girl?

With nerves that fueled both their curiosity and joy, they slowly approached the couple with smiles that stretched across their faces.

One of them lightly tapping Oscar’s shoulder making the couple turn around to completely face the two. “Uhm hi, me and my friend saw you guys and were wondering to get a picture?”she spoke, some of her words came out stuttered.

Before answering, Oscar looked back at you— his eyes curling into questionable ones,”Is that alright with you my love?” He asked, his tone soft and gentle. Like he always have with you.

“Yeah baby it’s fine” you muttered, your voice barely audible, but was loud enough for him to hear.

Oscar knew how anxious and shy you get whenever there are others; it was a habit you developed when you were small that came with you throughout adulthood. Luckily you met a guy who was willingly patient for you to open up.

And you were forever grateful for that.

The two friends looked at awe at their relationship, their eyes shined with adoration, but their minds still processing the new found information.

It was never said or announced that Oscar had a girlfriend— she was also rarely seen in both the media and the paddock. So they were shock to see a girl that nestled close to his embrace.

Oscar coughed, getting the attention of the two, he smiled at them and answered back politely, “yeah sure, we can take a picture.”

The two girls squealed with happiness as they put out their phone and took one or two shots of pictures.

After that, the friends thanked them both and let them to enjoy the lively city.

…

Liked by 3,678 others

Randm_girlie OMFG JS MET THE OSCAR PIASTRI (I still can’t believe it)

Tagged; @M_Bff

View all the comments

Username1 WAIT WHO IS HE WITH

Username2 wth who is she!?!!

Username3 Does @Mclaren know abt this!

Username4 EWWW WTF

Username5 I’ve not seen her in the paddock

Randm_girlie CHILL GUYS, it’s his gf and she’s very pretty in person💕

Username6 ohh gross

Username7 js like u??

Username8 WAIT I JUST SAW HER INSTA

Username9 damn that fast?

Username8 It’s @Just.yn but it’s private

Username16 saw them once, they’re perfect

Username17 SHES NICE ASF AND GETS VERY SHY I LOVE HER

…

With that single picture— the two of you have been the talk of the social. People from his circle and friend group asked numerous times who you were and whether or not the rumors were true.

They were honestly begging for details.

“My baby is so famous”, Oscar joked, his hand sliding up to caress your cheeks.

You playfully rolled your eyes and pouted, “Not funny osc, you know how i hate attention.”

Oscar let out a few giggle and pinched your cheeks. “Too late baby, you’re just too adorable that people are so interested in you.”

“Should i be jealous?” He added, his face jokingly shifted into a shock.

You happily laughed back at his antics. The two of you sharing a laugh as you guys joked around some more.

…

Liked by Mclaren, Just.yn, Charles_leclerc and 4,789,701 others

Oscarpiastri Compilation of me and her (this is the closest you will get to seeing her pictures)

Tagged; @Just.yn

View all comments

Username10 SHES SO PRETTY WHAT

Username11 R U GATEKEEPING HER SIR??

Oscarpiastri yes she’s mine forever

Username12 CAN SHE BE MINE

Oscarpiastri uhm no.

Username13 Admin come get ur boy

Landonorris No wonder you don’t hangout with me anymore🙁

Oscarpiastri she’s way better ngl

Username14 BRUTAL😭

Username15 WAIT SHE KINDA FINE

Oscarpiastri KINDA??? Girl please she’s hella fine

McLaren We need to teach you some selfcontrol☺️

…

I hope i did it okay?? Idk it felt off🥹🥹

[stargirlinterludefr]

1 STEP FORWARD, 3 STEPS BACK: rafe cameron x fem!reader

Based off of the song 1 step forward, 3 steps back by Olivia Rodrigo

Synopsis: It’s always 1 step forward and 3 steps back with Rafe, until you’ve finally had enough.

TW: Toxic relationship, emotional & verbal abuse, drug usage, references to sexual relations but no smut, addiction, heavy angst, small amount of fluff, guilt tripping for not having sex (I do NOT condone any of this, you should never be made to feel guilty if you don’t want to sleep with someone!), Rafe being an arsehole

Word count: around 3,500

‘Called you on the phone today

Just to ask you how you were

All I did was speak normally

Somehow I still struck a nerve

You’re laid down on your front, hand mindlessly plucking at your lilac coloured blanket as your other hand holds your phone close to your ear, waiting for your boyfriend to answer your call.

“Hello?” Rafe’s deep voice rings through the other end, cutting out the ringing sound that you’d been listening to whilst waiting on an answer.

You smile softly, “Hey baby, just thought I’d ring, not heard off of you in a few hours.” You say, still plucking mindlessly at your blanket as Rafe sniffles down the phone before he answering.

“Uh yeah, been busy with Barry sorry, what’ve you been up to?” He asks, and while deep down you know he’s distracted and probably doesn’t even care about what you’ve been doing as long as you’re not out flirting with other boys or…out doing anything at all.

“Barry? I didn’t realise you were hanging with him today, is he doing okay?” You ask sweetly, kind nature shining through despite how much you disliked Barry for continuing to get Rafe involved with dealings.

“Why you sound so mad about me hanging with Barry, huh?” Rafe snaps back and your heart plummets to your stomach as you pause your mindless ministrations on your blanket.

“Wha- I’m not mad, baby, I was just asking-“ You start but you don’t have the opportunity to finish as Rafe is quick to cut you off.

“Well fucking don’t! I don’t wanna deal with your bitchy attitude, it’s like you- you’re judging me or something so just cut it out a’ight? Get enough of that from my fucking dad, didn’t know my girl would be all up in my business to.” He says, voice agitated and slurred making it clear to you he’d been snorting up lines like there was no tomorrow.

You stay still in your place, eyes laced with tears that were on the verge of falling if you didn’t swallow the lump in your throat.

“What, you gone mute or something?” Rafe snaps and you jolt slightly, clearing your throat as you answer.

“M’ sorry.” You mutter, voice strained and quiet as though he’d zapped every inch of energy and happiness from you in a matter of seconds.

“Yeah, yeah whatever.” He scoffs, the sound of beeping ringing through your speaker signifying that he’d ended the call and as you slowly lower your phone from your ear, silent tears stream down your face and instead of picking mindlessly at your blanket you bury your face into it.

You got me fucked up in the head, boy

Never doubted myself so much

Like, am I pretty? Am I fun, boy?

I hate that I give you power over that kind of stuff

Parties had become something you dreaded immensely.

Rafe would usually leave you as soon as you arrived, seeking out people to sell his stuff to and snorting so many lines of it that you’d be left to deal with either his raging temper or his raging boner.

Despite that fact, you made sure you looked your prettiest each time. At the start of your relationship, Rafe showered you in compliments each time you’d get all dressed up but now he’d simply complain about how long you took and then he’d go flirt with some other look or touron making you seriously question whether you were even pretty enough anymore.

And at this particular party? You felt the burning pit of insecurity like it was etched onto your skin.

You were sat beside Rafe, two other kook girls across from you who were alongside Kelce and Barry.

Rafe was pouring out some coke from a small baggie, organising it into lines as he glanced toward you briefly.

“You want some?” He asks, pupils blown as wide as spaceships.

“No, I’m okay.” You say immediately, you’d never wanted to indulge in things like cocaine as you’d drawn the line at weed and alcohol.

“Oh my god, you’re like no fun are you? Live a little, girl.” One of the kook girls hanging off Kelce’s arms says, making the surrounding people laugh in response as their eyes dart to you.

And the worst part? Rafe laughs along with them.

“Alright then.” You mutter quietly, making the same girl holler in excitement as Rafe smiles, gesturing to the lines of cocaine he’d organised.

“All yours, baby.”

And as you sniff up the line of coke, you wonder when you’d let Rafe have so much power over the way you perceived yourself.

‘Cause it's always one step forward and three steps back

I'm the love of your life until I make you mad

The next morning you woke up to a regretful Rafe, the boy showering you with a million apologies for essentially forcing you to do something you’d never been comfortable doing in the past.

You’d assured him it was okay but he still preached his guilt, continuing to spend the remainder of the day spoiling you with a shopping trip and ending it with a walk on the beach.

The day had you feeling hopeful, Rafe had promised earlier on that he’d atleast stop doing cocaine around you so you wouldn’t be forced to.

This was progress…wasn’t it?

The hope you felt quickly diminished when you caught sight of your old friends, JJ and John B.

And JJ would be damned if he didn’t say hello to you, while you never talked much to the Pogues anymore JJ’s loyalty was impossible to extinguish. If the Maybank boy cared about you, he wasn’t ever going to let those feelings diminish.

“Ain’t this a sight for sore eyes?” A voice calls from behind you, making yours and Rafe’s heads whip around as you come face to face with JJ who is lightly jogging toward you both. John B trailing slowly behind as he adjusts two surf boards under his arms.

“How you been, y/n/n?” He asks, head cocking to the side as his messy blonde hair moves softly with it.

You open your mouth to speak but Rafe quickly cuts you off, hand tightening on your own “She’s good.”

JJ’s face immediately drops as he narrows his eyes, “Don’t think I was asking you, bro.” He says dryly as Rafe clenches his jaw.

“You gonna answer then?” Rafe spits out, making you look at him with pleading eyes, knowing by the look on his face that he was going to end this in a fight with you.

He simply gives you a glare and you turn to JJ, eyes not daring to meet his.

“Uh yeah, I’ve been good, you?” At your words Rafe lets out a scoff and you bite your lip anxiously, praying to whatever god that whatever has him mad will be resolved quickly.

“You know me, I’m always a’ight, you should uh come by the Chateau soon so we can catch up with ya…we’ve missed you.” JJ says, eyes trained intently on you as he ignores Rafe’s looming presence.

“Yeah, that sounds real nice.” You say, smiling softly and before you can say anything else Rafe is tugging you away.

“Yeah, real good to see you JJ, always a fucking pleasure!” He shouts sarcastically, ignoring how the blonde boy calls out your name when John B finally makes it to his side. You send an apologetic smile over your shoulder as Rafe’s hand detaches from your own.

“That sounds real nice?” Rafe parrots your words, eyes wild with anger as he scoffs to himself continuing his rapid walk back to the truck.

“What else was I supposed to say?” You ask desperately, running slightly to keep up with Rafe’s fast paces as he refuses to slow down for you.

“Rafe!” You call out when he doesn’t respond, the two of you now all but five meters from his truck.

That’s when he spins back to face you, face scrunched in anger as he points at you.

“I’ll tell you what your fucking problem is, y-you can’t be happy with what I’m giving you so you put on the sad kicked puppy act when Maybank is around for what? Huh? You fucking him or something?” Rafe shouts in anger, now towering over you as you all but freeze in your place.

“What? No I’m not fucking Jay, Rafe. I haven’t seen him in months, ever since you told me to stop hanging round with my friends!” You say, voice trembling as you attempt to hold back tears of frustration not missing the way Rafe’s eyes flash with more anger.

“You might as well be fucking him, you got nicknames for him and shit?” He states mockingly, letting out a dry laugh when you go to correct your mistake as a force of habit from your childhood, he spins back toward his truck before you can even respond. “Go hang with Maybank for all I care, prove how much of an attention seeking whore you are.”

Your brows furrow as Rafe rounds his truck, clambering into it as you step forward.

“Rafe?” You call out, listening to him start his truck and rev the engine. You begin walking toward the truck but Rafe reverses so quickly that sand flicks up leaving you to shield your face when he spins the truck around,leaving you stood there.

It's always one step forward and three steps back

Do you love me, want me, hate me? Boy, I don't understand

You receive an abundant of text messages from Rafe later on in the same night as your pacing the small space of your room, nibbling anxiously on your nails.

Rafe 💜: am sory baby

Rafe 💜: Pogue get me soooooo pissed

Rafe 💜: I lobe u so moch ❤️❤️

You let out a groan of frustration at the words, your mind spinning as though you’d experienced whiplash. You didn’t know how to keep up anymore, you didn’t understand.

No, I don't understand

You: I love you too 🤍

And maybe in some masochistic way

I kinda find it all exciting

Like, which lover will I get today?

Will you walk me to the door or send me home cryin'?

Your sat reading on the dock at the back of your house, one foot dangling into the water when your phone buzzes.

Rafe 💜: coming over.

Your stomach churns with an excited sort of nervousness, mind reeling on how Rafe is going to be today.

His emotional imbalance had made such an impact upon your own that you didn’t know how to feel anymore, whatever you felt was never right in his eyes.

you: okay, on the dock <3

When you hear Rafe’s footsteps drawing closer you don’t dare look up, pretending to be engrossed in your book to see how he would react.

Whether he’d be his teasing normal self that you’d fallen in love with or the coked up angry Rafe that you’d grown to hate.

Rafe steps grow dangerously near and his voice comes along with them, “That book so interesting it mutes your hearing?” He asks, voice boarding on teasing as you look up at him a few meters from you.

You smile and shrug, “It’s a good book.”

Rafe cocks a brow, coming to a standstill in front of you as locks down upon you.

“That good book better than my presence?” He asks, and some part of you sighs in relief at his calm demeanour and undiluted pupils.

“Not a chance.” You say, holding your hands out for Rafe to pull you up and as he does he picks you up into a tight hug and spins the both of you around as you squeal in delight.

It's one step forward and three steps back

I'm the love of your life until I make you mad

It's always one step forward and three steps back

Do you love me, want me, hate me? Boy, I don't understand

“Come on baby, please.” Rafe pleads with you, hands tugging at the waistband of your pants in the country club bathroom as you give him a pointed look.

“Not here Rafe.” You say softly as he groans, head on your shoulder.

“We’ve done it here before.” He says in response, lips suckling on your neck as you laugh, gently prying him away from you.

“Yeah, when we weren’t at a business party with your father here.” Rafe then stands to his full height, his jaw ticking and your stomach immediately drops at the quick shift in demeanour.

“My father’s never seemed to bother you before.” He says, referring to the abundant amount of times the two of you have fucked in the house while Ward was just downstairs.

You sigh softly, “We’re at a business party, baby, I promise when we get home-“

Rafe withdraws his hands from you and runs one through his bangs, “Whatever.” He mutters, moving swiftly toward the bathroom door as you reach out for him.

“Rafe, talk to me, what’s wrong?” The boy in question turn his head and rolls his eyes.

“What’s wrong is my girl is more interested in my father than me.” He says simply, shrugging as he goes “I didn’t even wanna fuck anyway, you make it to much work.”

And like a child who’d been refused his favourite toy, Rafe leaves you stood there swallowing the all too familiar lump in your throat.

No, it's back and forth, did I say something wrong?

It's back and forth, goin' over everything I said

It's back and forth, did I do something wrong?

It's back and forth, maybe this is all your fault

Instead it's one step forward and three steps back

Rafe had been giving you the silent treatment since you’d gotten to Tanny hill, only exchanging a grunt in response to you when you placed a kiss to his head as you sat beside him.

Your mind was raking over whatever it is you’d done wrong as you sit on his bed, anxiously waiting for him to come off of the phone to see if he’d talk to you.

You’d be a fool to yourself if you said this wasn’t a regular occurrence, Rafe constantly gave you the silent treatment in response to something.

And then he’d act like you were stupid for thinking such things.

You’re mind couldn’t pin point a thing you’d done wrong nor could it pin point anything you’d said wrong.

You should know by now that this is Rafe’s way, when he’s annoyed at everyone else he takes it out on you. When he doesn’t want to face his own emotions he pushed them onto you so you can face them. Like his own personal punching bag, you should know it’s not your fault yet you feel like it is every time.

When Rafe re emerges from the balcony, he lies down on the bed beside you as you remain sat up trying to find the courage to ask him the question that often leads to him essentially biting your head off.

“Are you mad at me?” You blurt out, turning to look at Rafe who sighs loudly in annoyance.

“Not this shit again.” He groans, rubbing a hand over his face as you fiddle with your fingers.

“I- you just seem quiet today s’all.” You point out and you can predict Rafe’s response before he even says it.

“What? I can’t be quiet now? It’s all good when you wanna be quiet but when it’s me I’m suddenly mad at you?” He asks rhetorically as you shrug half heartedly, avoiding his gaze as he sighs again bringing himself to a sitting position as he places his chin on your shoulder.

“Stop asking me stupid shit, a’ight?” He says and all you can do is nod numbly.

And I'd leave you, but the roller coaster is all I've ever had

As youre walking out of Tanny Hill, face wet with tears due to another screaming match with Rafe, a voice calls out your name from behind you.

You’re quick to wipe your cheeks when you realise it isn’t Rafe, it’s Sarah.

You turn, forcing a smile onto your face as she approaches you, and by the look on her face you know she heard.

“Hey Sare, everything good?” You ask, voice hoarse due to the amount of shouting and crying you’d done.

“I should ask you that, are you okay?” She says softly, brown eyes so kind that your heart nearly breaks to think of how much anger her brother’s blue ones hold.

“You heard, huh?” You ask, watching as she nods, “Look, he- he’s just had a long day and-“

“Y/n, he’s always either had a long day or he’s had a fight with our dad, that doesn’t justify the way he treats you.” She states, deja vu hitting you remembering the similar conversation the two of you had but in that conversation she’d been cautious with what she’d said to you but it was obvious now that caution had gone out of the window.

You stand silently, biting your lip as you look at your former friend “But he loves me.” You whisper, as if that justifies anything.

Sarah’s face breaks out in so much empathy that you swear you can hear both of your hearts break, “Love isn’t supposed to be that hard.” She says and you suck in a harsh breath, “He does love you but…not in the way you deserve.”

Tears roll down your cheeks once more as you respond, “How am I supposed to know what I deserve? I’ve never known anyone else’s love apart from his.”

Sarah immediately brings you into her arms, hugging you so tightly that you have no choice but to let yourself fall into the embrace.

Yeah, it's one step forward and three steps back

Do you love me, want me, hate me? Boy

I don't understand

You and Rafe sit silently together at one of Rose’s infamous parties, your eyes trained intently on both Sarah and John B as the Routledge boy spins her around whilst watching her with such a lovesick expression that it makes your stomach churn.

You don’t think Rafe has ever looked at you in such a way.

Not even Ward argued with the fact that Sarah was dating a Pogue, JB was so fiercely in love with his daughter that everyone with eyes could see it. He worshipped the ground she walked on making you come to realisation that Rafe had never been that way with you.

Your head turns to said boy as you speak up, “Do you love me?” You ask, making Rafe slowly turn his head toward you in return, the motion slow due to how high he is.

You don’t think he’s been sober properly since you got together, and you know he won’t be sober any time soon.

You’d helped him in every way you could, he threw it all back into your face.

He needed to figure his shit out for himself now.

“You really asking me stupid shit again?” He asks harshly, yet this time, you don’t waver in your response and you chose to ignore the lump in your throat.

“It’s a simple question, Rafe.” You state calmly, eyes twinkling with such a small amount of hope for whatever thread is hanging on in yours and Rafe’s relationship.

Rafe simply stares at you, as though he can’t bring himself to say the words he’s always eager to say when he wants to get you into bed.

You nod, hope dying out as the thread finally snaps and you unlatch the necklace he’d given you, signifying you breaking free of the prison he’d had you in for over a year.

“I hope you get better Rafe, but I don’t think you’re ever going to do that when you’re with me, I don’t want to be the thing that takes on all your shitty emotions…you need to face them for yourself.” You say, gently prying apart his clenched palm and placing the necklace there before you stand up.

Rafe is quick to follow, calling out for you as you walk away, ignoring the multiple gazes on you and the attention drawn toward you at Rafe’s desperate shouts.

Somewhere in the crowd, Sarah and John B watch with small smiles, happy you’d finally made the first step for yourself.

No, I don't understand

Two weeks later and you’re sat on the front porch at the Chateau, hair flowing softly in the morning breeze as you watch the sunrise.

Rafe had been non stop texting you during the duration of your split, words of love and hatred that you still couldn’t begin to understand no matter how hard you tried.

You did come to the realisation that he’d never even allowed you to understand him, despite how hard you’d tried.

He’d attempted to come to your house but you’d made the wise decision to crash at John B’s, rekindling your friendship with the Pogues as they welcomed you with open arms. Eyes filled with immense guilt for not realising how bad things had gotten with you and Rafe but also with so much love that you’d felt overwhelmed, you didn’t realise such love still existed.

You smile softly to yourself, eyes dancing over the colours coating the sky and you decided things would be okay.

You’d be okay.

[beneathashadytree]

HEY GUYS! LONG POST HERE, BUT PLEASE READ🙏🏽

I am genuinely appalled by the discourse ongoing in the LNDS fandom these past few days—but above all, I am severely disappointed in what had started out as one of the most inclusive and sweet fandoms I’ve ever been in. I have a few things to say, so in this post I’m trying to put all my thoughts to words. Apologies if I sound harsh, but I’m genuinely livid. Also, please ignore any typos. I’m not wearing my glasses while word-vomiting.

First off, for a fandom that is composed of mostly adults, you guys have been acting terribly childishly. It’s 2024, and yet people are still unironically shaming others for “switching up on their favs” as if a person owes 2D characters any loyalty. Let people enjoy things. The novelty of Sylus and how he’s quite literally 6 months behind the other 3 love interests makes people want to catch up on the enjoyment of him all at once. He’s still such a brand new character and concept, so there’s no wonder everyone’s hyped up over him.

I’ve seen people get genuinely mad at other players and writing whole think-pieces about this. I promise you guys, the company making this game is still benefiting whether you’re pouring your money into Sylus or any one of the previous 3. We’re all happy to have an interesting character pop up among the roster now, and we’re taking our time getting to know him. Doesn’t make any of the first 3 any less loved. I genuinely don’t remember this amount of nastiness when solo events for each of the guys used to drop.

In fact, if the popularity thing is worrying you, going off MLQC (the company’s past game) the character who was last added was—eventually, after the initial hype died down—kicked off to the sidelines in most major events and was given the least content, and was the least favorite of fans.

Secondly, and this has my blood boiling, there is an insane amount of entitlement and rudeness I’ve seen on my timeline concerning how people characterize the men—particularly Rafayel.

Absolutely nothing warrants this shitty attitude towards other creators for how they depict characters in their fics. It seems you guys feel protected behind a screen and think it gives you the right to bully strangers online. Fanfiction is for fantasizing about your favs; for letting your imagination run wild. If this were a character analysis, then yes, maybe I’d agree that inaccuracies are aggravating. However, in fanfiction, there are zero rules, especially when it comes to smut.

Sexual preferences are not equivalent to a person’s whole personality—so whether he’s written as a dom, a sub, a switch, or whatever the fuck you wanna call it, this has nothing to do with his kindness, gentlemanliness, passion, power, ruthlessness, snark, or whatever minuscule aspect of his character makes up his lovely whole and matters to you.

I think this circles back to a lack of ability to separate sexual matters and personality, because how else do people interpret fics depicting him in a certain manner as them erasing his character? They might overlap, but they can very well be mutually exclusive. I’ve seen incredibly sweet and gentle men irl who were absolute doms in bed, and I’ve seen powerful and passionate men who were reduced to tears between the sheets. There is barely any correlation whatsoever, and if anything, claiming otherwise is what I consider piss-poor media literacy and reading-comprehension.

My third point is that for some reason, there have been many, many posts and replies on here where I’ve seen people just straight-up spread pure hate for the characters. Maybe this bothered me in particular because I’m an OT3 (OT4 now!) and absolutely adore all of them, but I find no logical reason for “yucking someone’s yum” when we’re talking about liking the characters of an Otome game—a genre of video games which is made to literally cater to the tastes of as many people as possible.

It’s especially disheartening to see when it’s at a time like this, when new content is about to drop, and you find in the replies of every other post/discussion at least a few people spewing hate and disgust at Sylus. Again, so many people are incredibly excited about him. Why is there a need to rain on everyone’s parade, especially in such an unsolicited manner?

This fandom originally started as a safe space for people of all races, backgrounds, genders, sexualities, and personalities to bond over our mutual love for characters. All I’ve seen on my TL lately (in terms of discussion) is negativity, and it’s such a fucking let-down. I hope whatever the fuck has happened to this fandom cools down after a bit. It’s probably exaggerated and very in-your-face rn, cause more and more people are downloading LNDS, so the probabilities of finding people being nasty are increasing. But I seriously don’t want to grow to resent this fandom and find myself distancing myself from it to protect my peace.

Let’s all remember to be kind towards other players, to not act entitled or bratty about the characters, and to try and mind our own business if we see content that doesn’t suit our tastes.

[payasita]

Good job getting ADHD medication! I’m so proud of you :D

thanks so so much im very happy and so hopeful for the first time maybe ever but also it TOOK ME LIKE. A YEAR. A YEAR.

like yall for real?? for real. for real i have been diagnosed since i was like six. (funny story my teacher thought i was on the spectrum so my parents get me tested with the nodes and shit and according to mom, who loves this story, my neurologist did all that and talked to me and then just turned to my mom and went "she's not autistic. she just hates the other kids" but they DID find an adhd diagnosis in there so net win for all of us)

diagnosed since i was SIX. on stimulants until i turned 8, and you know why i got off em? my pediatrician retired. we could not find another who would take our low-income insurance. so i just had to rawdog The Rest Of My Fucking Life. diagnosed when i was six. legally neurodivergent for 20 slutty slutty angry years.

and it still took me like. a few months to get a psych appointment. a few weeks to reaffirm my diagnosis as an adult. a few more weeks for another appointment for meds. he doesnt Want to do meds first, because i must have been doing fine without them if its been two decades, right? i got a job and a car and everything. well gee fuckin shittickers Dr. Brain Guy, just WHAT was my alternative? would you prefer i be maladapted to the point of incapacitation; is that what it takes for someone to be considered? i cheated my way through school. every day after work i sit for an hour in my car because i dont have the executive function to stand up and walk the ten steps to my house. garbage just appears around me. i have three empty bags of hot chip and two cans of sprite on my desk as we speak, neither from today. at that point i hadnt had a debit card for six months because that would have required me to Drive To The Bank, a location that was new to me in this area, so i just did everything on credit. is this all normal? is this fine? am i GOOD, actually, Dr. WeirdBrain?

so we cordially agree that yes i should probably be medicated. i want to do a stimulant. he does not want to put me on a stimulant. "stimulants can mess with your heart," he says, "and you're young, you don't want heart problems." i say ok because i dont want to make him think im just looking for narcotics. even though i am. because they WORK. i agree to try some kind of antidepressant.

the antidepressant gives me tachycardia. i go to the emergency room after reading a heartbeat of, oh, 140 bpm, which is about like double what it normally is and juuuust below the You Are Having A Heart Attack threshold. i get to the ER and the doctor there is very obviously convinced i'm a local addict having some sort of episode. it is the most ironic experience i've had all year and i feel an abrupt and all consuming kinship with those birds in australia that will swoop you and peck at your face for seemingly no good reason.

so yeah, we narrow it down to the antidepressant. as it turns out, these particular meds are known to, semi-commonly, Mess With Your Heart. i have my next appointment with my psych and somehow refrain from pecking his eyes out. he puts me on a noreprinephrine inhibitor(iirc) that isnt actually FDA approved to treat ADHD specifically(i DEFINITELY rc) but it IS given to smokers to help them quit. i dont smoke. i may very well fucking start before this whole ordeal is at the point where someone listens to me

it obviously does a combined total of jack and shit, and the man waffles with this one because he has "had success" using it as treatment for other ADHD patients. he ups the dose. twice. three months on the smoker meds, which are also apparently notorious for destroying your appetite, but they didnt even do THAT. no change to the average amount of hot chip on my desk.

he wants to try quelbree after that. i finally tell him i'm tired of this shit and would like to have more than two hours of usable daylight to function before it all falls to uncontrollable youtube shorts binges and a daily experience i like to call The Weighted Nothings and i would very much like to PLEASE. TRY A STIMULANT.

he's been friendly enough with me over these past four or five or whatever months but at this he gets suddenly very very business-baseline. gives me the whole spiel about the north american shortage. gives me a spiel about how i absolutely cannot, under any circumstances, lose or sell this medication, because they will not refill it if i do. i am sitting here wondering if he he's telling the truth about having other ADHD patients at all like ever in his career, and also, am i nuts or should the "don't sell your prescription drugs" bit apply to EVERYTHING? i dont fuckin know man i just live here

he says he wants a urine test first. its scheduled for two weeks out. i take it.

"hey uh, your piss came back with cannabis in it" "well it'd be weirder if it didn't, we are in california and i am a kitchen manager" "you can't have weed if you want adderall" "fine i'll stop" "we'll schedule you another test in a month" "aight bet" it didnt go exactly like that but this is kind of what the vibe between us has devolved into by this point.

anyway i wait a month and get a good grade in piss. i get the meds prescribed. i go to fill out the prescription

all i really need to say to you are the words "prior authorization error" for most of you to get what happened next.

the psych isnt even aware. i wait another month for our next meeting, which was yesterday. i do not yell at him. he tells me to take it up with the pharmacy, and yell at them. i am going to yell at them.

so i go, and guess what, it actually went through a while ago! NO ONE TOLD ME OR DR. FEEL-BAD OVER HERE. but we can't fill it right now because its a controlled substance so come back in a few hours. hey it's ready where the hell are you? TAKE YOUR METH AND GET OUT

anyway i started it today, reorganized my pantry, and fixed the fire alarm in my hallway that's been chirping at me for a week. i no longer have to wear earplugs to bed.

and with my newfound executive function superpowers, i will be spraying my weed-free piss all over Reagan's grave.

[bearfools]

a few things i think people should know.

not directed at anyone in particular, but ive received multiple messages (some deleted, some not) from people and i think ill make a post about some stuff i wanna clear up as a therian.

i am aware that im bodily human, im aware that this will not change.

i am aware that acting wild (or as someone said, "gross" and "ill mannered") does not make me an animal

no, i am not a little kid discovering new terms on the internet and using them for clout. i am an 18 year old man who had been questioning therianthropy for a very long time

no, i am not offended by people saying silly hateful things, ive seen about every basic piece of therian hate (directed at me and also other people) and none of it bothers me

no, i am not in any way attracted to animals and i do not partake in any kind of animal abuse. its weird that people assume that right after saying "youre human!!" like am i a beast or not make up your mind lmao?

no, i dont mind if you ask "silly" questions, in a community as misunderstood as therians/alterhumans i am always happy to help people understand

yes, i believe in past lives. though i do not believe theyre fully to blame for my therianthropy and i dont think every kintype of mine has a detailed backstory. i was likely many animals before i was human and i dont kin anything but bears

i had like one person ask if this was a religious thing, its not, idk how common of a misconception that is but i wanted to put it out there. im not outwardly religious, im agnostic but unbothered by any other beliefs

yes, im aware that animals live outside in the cold with diseases and predators, i am grateful for the things i am given that wild animals are not.

no, you cant hunt me (and also, what the hell? again, if youre arguing that im human then why would you hunt me?)

"how do you know your beliefs are real?" i dont. im simply a person on this earth, same as you, i dont know what lies after death, i dont know what lies before birth, but i prefer my "weird" beliefs over never believing in anything.

after i made that post about young therians (thank you all for the love by the way!) i had a few comments along the lines of "messy eating is human/making faces and acting like an animal doesnt make you an animal" i know, i know that im not a bear, i know that what i do is not limited to therians. I know kids play as animals all the time! but at the end of the day i'm happy. are you? does leaving spiteful messages make you happy?

do you send a comment on tumblr and stare at your reflection in the screen and feel fulfilled? im asking genuinely, because if it doesnt make you happy, then why do it? it doesnt affect me, worst case scenario im annoyed and then dont interact. Do you think that ill hear you say "youre not a bear" and then go "oh my bad" and delete my account? as if i havent been told those exact words my whole life (even before i knew what the internet was!)

[idrellegames]

I've recently rediscovered Wayfarer after first playing it a few years ago and I'm having a blast replaying it! The amount of variation that this game has and scenes that I didn't even know existed is insane??? Seriously, I'm having so much fun playing a different main character on this play through (everyone hates me). I am curious, though, is there any companion in particular that hasn't showed up yet that you're most excited to write about? I'm super excited to see what else you come up with!

aaaaa wonderful!! I'm always so happy to hear about replays since the game is definitely intended to be replayed a bunch. 💕

and oooo good question. So, there's a few contenders here:

Alexia, Calla and Ren. I'm grouping them together because we're so close to the point where they will finally be in the game. They've been around since 2019 (they're older characters than even Melchior and Aeran, Alexia's been my pfp in different variations for years at this point) and their introduction scenes have been planned since 2020. It's been a really long time coming and I am so excited to get some new energy into the game with them.

I think Ren has my favourite introduction scene, which makes me a little stressed because I worry about whether it will fall flat on it's face. 😂 Calla has my second favourite and I think people are going to find her a lot of fun. Alexia's is going to be surprising and not what you expect.

I am also very excited for Ves. They have a lot going on with their history with Ren and the Erebian League. I wrote a short story from their POV in 2023 that set up some of their conflict and they are just Very Neat to me. It's easy to get brainrot. 🤣

There's one other character who is currently being rotated on a spit in my head, but I don't want to say much about them other than they're an aeda and they have a connection to Rhodarth.

[mothiir]

sorry to be that rehash that droid de suggondeez plotline (I REFUSE TO CORRECTLY SPELL FRENCH) with big e stealing a wife but could we pretttty ppLEAAAASE get some more mothiir? i am obsessed with the eldritch inhuman but human behaviour you write him with. it makes me want to chew on him while simultaneously wanting to beat him with a brick out of hatred. i have so many ideas. but ill take anything you offer up fr ill live off the scraps like a feral dog, its just that the the whole david and goliath vibe is TASTYYYY. please dignify my complete insanity for just an intsy winsy second because all i can imagine is how utterly FUCKED the stolenwife!reader's pov is. you try fight back a little too much? oh haha, ur so cute, but keep biting or scratching him and he'll sicc one of the custodes (or a few) to really try you out. let you be so overstimulated youre begging for something in you, and oh boy big e'll sooo do that dont worry. or maybe humble you by keeping you basically half bare like yeah not so cocky now LMFAO IM SO SORRY I NEVER GIVE PROMPTS SO BRAZENLY LIKE THIS BC IM A COWARD FULL OF SHAMEEE UR SO MUCH BRAVER THAN MEEE (thank you sm if you do or dont run with anything i spat out just then)

first of all, never apologise for requesting stuff and also i totally respect your disrespect of the French language. as an englishwoman i am contractually obligated to hate those frog-eating bastards (disclaimer: this is satire pls don’t cancel me). secondly i absolutely love your description of my interpretation of big e because it is also exactly how i feel about him. beat him with brick, pat hair, back to brick. I know i have moved away from that content but I still wave my emperor fucker flag and am always taking requests for him

i promise there will be actual coherent fic soon, but for now here is a bullet pointed list of the sort of things that guilliwife experiences (if there is one in particular you want a full fix of let me know):

the Emperor steals you, and does not think to tell Guilliman — why would he? He fucks you, enjoys it tremendously, then has to go and do some important Master of Mankind warp fuckery that means you spend about a fortnight in some random rooms with no one to talk to but the Custodes. And they barely talk! You never work out if they are bodyguards or prison guards, since you can’t imagine that you are important enough to warrant guarding, but you also don’t think that there is much effort needed to stop you escaping. Where would you even go?

It would be so much easier if he was always a selfish monster in bed — but he isn’t. Worse: he eats pussy exactly how you think a man with millennia of practice would. He likes bringing you to the very edge of orgasm and just stopping, pillowing his cheek on your stomach and watching as you whine and cry, partly with guilt and partly with sheer frustration. You end up begging him to fuck you, stumbling out every title you can think of — lord, emperor, sire, master — but his patience is limitless, and he can keep going for hours, until you’re completely insensible, promising every depraved thing if he will just stop teasing and put it in you

You belong to him. No one else is allowed to touch you — apart from valdor, one of his oldest friends and dearest allies. And captain Kytan. And a few other custodes. Sometimes at the same time. They’re extensions of his most absolutely not divine will — they can partake in the same luxuries he allows himself, otherwise what kind of a leader would he be? He likes seeing his best soldiers happy, especially when it’s because valdor is balls deep in your arse, while he enjoys the sweet warm stretch of your throat. You jostle and whimper between them, so full that you can barely breathe, and afterwards the emperor watches as valdor thumbs open your cheeks, just to watch your holes struggle to close up around the shape of his cock. Still, valdor can’t linger too long - there is already a line

He will cum inside you so much you swear your stomach bulges a little from it all. You have nightmares about popping like a balloon

eventually word reaches the Emperor that Guilliman is looking to speak to him as a matter of urgency — he is currently buried deep in your throat, enjoying the cute little gluck-gluck-gluck noises your gag reflex makes as you try to fit him all the way into your tight gullet. He does not ask you to stop this before answering the vox from a distraught Roboute, who is blathering about his fiancée going missing? The Emperor chuckles a little to himself, patting your hair — ah, having a woman to be wed and a woman in his bed, Roboute is far more like his father than first thought — wait. Ah. Singular woman. Singular. Shit.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for telling my mom to either get me what I've asked for, or to just get me gift cards?

This probably makes me sound horrible and ungrateful, but this is an issue I've had for about the last ten years of my life. I love my mother dearly, and I am so insanely grateful that we are in a financial position where we can receive gifts at all. I'd genuinely be happy with just a card and a cozy day in, but my mom always insists it isn't Christmas without at least one or two things under the tree.

I always ask her routinely as we inch toward the later months of the year what she'd like, and I do my best to get her exactly what she wants. I'll get her one or two other things too, like some skincare or chocolates or shoes or something, but I always stick to what she actually asks for.

If she asks me for a specific dress, she'll get it. If she asks me for a certain type of perfume, she'll get it.

The same....Cannot be said for her.

I've begged her over the years to just stick to getting me what I ask for. I don't ask for anything expensive. I think the most expensive thing I've ever asked for were concert tickets, and I offered to pay half. I just more or less wanted help actually getting them, because as we all know, concert tickets sell so fast its like you blink and they're gone, and the more people you have trying to get them the more chances of success.

Usually I'll ask for something like a particular poster I saw online, or a bedding set, a new phone case, ect. Small, easy to get things because honestly, I don't need that much.

What I actually end up with is a bunch of random stuff I will never use and clothing I'd never wear and once or twice, tickets to do things I hate doing.

Its like she asks me what I want then goes out of her way to get me the exact opposite of what I've asked for. She always pouts at me and berates me for 'looking disappointed' or never using anything she gets me (I hold onto it for a few months then quietly give it away to a friend or thrift store).

It makes me feel guilty, but this is a conversation we have every. Single. Christmas.

(For example I'll ask for, say, a pair of white shoes. What I'll actually get is a box of wind up toys from the dollar store, expensive paint brushes when I've never touched paint in my life, and a box of chocolates from a brand I don't like.)

This year, once again, she asked me for my list, and I just gave her some stores and told her I'd like gift cards to those places. She gave me a weird look and dropped it, but asked again a few times, and each time I just reiterated what stores I wanted gift cards to.

Well lo behold, I come home from college and there's packages under the tree. Proper packages, not just envelopes or anything else that a gift card would realistically be in.

I guess I was staring at the tree with a weird/sour expression, because it wound up starting an argument between us. Her argument was she's getting me gifts, I should be grateful, and she tries really hard but I'm just 'impossible to please.'

My argument is I tell her repeatedly exactly what I want and not once have I ever gotten what's actually on my list. In which case, why the fuck should I bother writing a list? I'd rather have the gift cards so I can buy exactly what I wanted in the first place.

She said I ask for clothes, I get clothes. I said I ask for specific clothes and she gets me ones that I wouldn't even look at in the store, let alone buy.

The whole argument ended up with her calling me an ungrateful asshole and confiscating my gifts to return them all after the New Year. She told me I can just have the money from returning them and 'be fucking happy for once.'

Its Christmas Eve and she's still not speaking to me. I feel terrible, but I'm also relieved. Either this means from now on she won't get me anything, or from now on if she asks for my list she'll actually get me what's on it.

My dad is staying in the middle. He said I'm right, and over the years he's tried to convince her not to buy all that stuff, but he also said I should've just done what I always do, fake a smile, and get rid of it later.

Is he right or was this fight a blessing in disguise? Am I the asshole for ruining Christmas or am I justified in voicing what I have for the last ten years running?

What are these acronyms?

[hate-free-jumblr]

Hey Jumblr

I've had the idea of helping out the Jewish community here on tumblr and providing a safe way to browse Jewish tags without encountering antisemitism and spam. I occasionally checked tags for friends, so I thought, why not make it a whole thing?

I don't know, maybe it won't be necessary, and there's little to be filtered out, which I would honestly prefer, but even if it only helps one person browse Jumblr or related tags in peace, then I'm happy.

What I'll sort out:

antisemitism (obviously, but more specifically, posts aimed at the Jewish community for the purpose of causing harm. I won't sort out discussions about antisemitism or antisemitism experiences.)

spam (like pornbots or unrelated posts that get tagged with a bajillion tags)

I'll keep all the original tags, and might add more specific tags for searching or so specific things get caught in people's filters. (I will try to remove personal tags like 'mine', 'my stuff', etc. but stuff might slip through. Please message me if it happens so I can remove the wrong tag.)

Recommended tags to filter:

"anon hate" for hateful asks people get. I will still reblog those because of people's answers, but for those who don't want to encounter these types of posts, this is the tag to filter. (I will also put this tag on asks sent from anonymous side blogs). Regular anon asks get the tag "anon asks". (If you want me to tag specific things, let me know.)

"antisemitic screenshots" for people posting screenshots of antisemitic messages or posts to comment on them

About me:

My main blog is @princeofbadassery (be warned, there's unhealthy amounts of Bucky Barnes on there), I'm German, I'm not Jewish, but I am friends with a lot of Jews and Jews-in-Progress here on tumblr. I know that doesn't automatically make me an expert, but it means I do have a few people I can ask if I'm unsure about anything.

I have been very hesitant to launch this blog since I am not Jewish, and it does feel like I'm invading a space, but when I proposed the idea to my friends, they thought it was a good idea, so here I am.

Since I'm not Jewish, I won't be commenting on anything or making any personal posts about anything. This blog is just #jumblr without any hate. As such, I've turned off asks for this blog, but you can still message me. If you want to send me asks on anon, you can go to @hate-free-jumblr-asks

Sideblog for Channukah -> @hate-free-latkes-days

Please message me if you need something in particular tagged, or if you have an idea for other tags.

[obsessionatthemoment]

I feel the need to make a small intro post, because although I prefer to be anonymous online, it would still be nice for people to be able to get to know me.

Although I'm not comfortable sharing my real name, you can call me Autumn. The abbreviation of obsessionatthemoment is oatm, which I realized sounds somewhat like "autumn", and is a lot easier to say/write than my full username. Yeah, that was kinda my thought process, lol.

I'm diagnosed autistic, and also have a very severe history of mental illness. I am very open about my 4 years spent in the troubled teen industry (it's actually about to be my 1-year of being home anniversary as of making this, which is the longest I've been home for since 6th grade!).

I'm very imaginative. Some of my interests are writing, reading and drawing. I also love a good analysis.

The only fandom I'm currently active on is Byler, but I have a lot of other pieces of media I'm interested in, such as:

-The Perks of Being a Wallflower

-Young Royals (as long as I pretend season 3 doesn't exist)

-Red, White & Royal Blue (as long as I pretend the movie doesn't exist)

-Heartstopper (as long as I pretend the TV show doesn't exist, are you sensing a theme here?), and all of Alice Oseman's other books (especially I Was Born for This, and Radio Silence)

Some links to the Byler fanfics I have written:

Don't listen to assholes (complete)

It's senior year, and Will just want to escape. The bullying is relentless, and even though there are only a few months left in the school year, it's hard to manage. Max sees all of this, she wants to help, she hates that he has to "just deal with it." One particular day, someone say something so nasty that Max suggests they just skip the rest of school that day. They go to the junkyard, and talk about college, Will's feelings for Mike, and eventually the events of the day.

Bullying sucks, but it's nice to have someone to help you through it.

Sleep in my room? (still in progress)

Will and Mike's relationship is gradually progressing into becoming romantic, throughout their freshman year of college. They grow closer than ever when Mike suggest Will sleep in his room to try to help Will with his sleeping issues. Through snapshot into their life, many being about sleep, mental health problems, and their feelings for each other, we see their relationship grow.

Is this real? (complete)

Sometimes, things just feel wrong. They don’t feel they way they should. They don’t feel real. This is one of those times, and, Will is stuck there all alone. He’s trapped and scared in this “alternate reality.” Maybe with some help, things can get a little better…

Fine (complete but being rewritten to better fit the narrative)

Will and Mike have been living with each other for a few months. Will is trying to be happy while struggling with some serious mental health issues. When lying to himself becomes a bit too much, Mike is there to help him through it.

My Byler fanart:

[samsalami66]

Catching Up With The Past

Look at this, another part for the soccer au!

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 4

“Boys? Could I have a word with you?” 

The two heads of the men present turned towards Gilbert as he stuck his head into the locker rooms, pausing their conversation to listen to him.

“‘Course, what do you need, coach?” The shorter of them answered then, gesturing for him to come in and sit with them. He did so, grateful for the chance to rest his bad knee. Curiosity shone in the men’s eyes as they waited for him to state his business, their expressions open and unafraid. 

“I have received a request for a transfer to our team. And I wish to discuss it with you both first, before I make any kind of decision.”

“Just us? Why not the whole team?” A frown creased the face of the taller man, confusion clear in his gaze. He had always been a perceptive one, and Gilbert couldn’t help but smile at him. 

“Because this matter concerns you two in ways it does not concern the others.” Confusion only seemed to grow between them at his words. “The transfer request comes from Morpheus Ateleios. Given your… history with him, I ought to first ask you for your opinion on this.”

The men blinked at him for a long moment, too stunned to formulate a response. 

The shorter man caught himself first and began to pace the room as he answered, his hands gesturing wildly, as they so often did when he was either nervous or excited. 

“Morpheus Ateleios asked to be transferred to our team? Offence player for the Riggers. The guy I gave a black eye last season.” Gilbert nodded, having had similar thoughts when he had woken up to this particular email. “But why? He hates our guts.”

“I truly don’t know, son. It came as a surprise to me as well, after all there had been no talk about a planned transfer. All I can say is that he wrote to me the very day after Roderick’s sudden death.”

“Sounds to me like he’s running.” The other man finally spoke up, his face one of mixed emotion. Anger, fear, tentative hope, all so easily read from his set jaw and the light brightening in his eyes. 

“Those were my thoughts as well. And you know I am not one inclined to turn away those who are in search of shelter. That being said, my responsibility lies with you boys, first and foremost. So, what do you think?”

The smaller man was the first to speak up, his pacing coming to an end right in the middle of the room. 

“There has to be a reason why he wants to be transferred to our team, of all the teams out there. I say we do it.”

Gilbert nodded, having expected this sort of answer from his player. “You will make sure to keep your affections in check, I assume?”

A blush spread over his face and to the tip of his ears, but he inclined his head in agreement nonetheless. “Yes, of course. You have my word on that.”

“Very well. What about you, son?” 

The other man sighed, but eventually nodded as well. “Fine. But I can’t promise he will be happy to see me.”

“Well, good thing then we will only have to worry about that when you’re back at the end of next season, right?”

- - - 

Hob seemed to be nervous today. 

He was pacing, up and down the living room, gesturing even more animatedly than usual while telling Morpheus about the ending of the movie they had watched the evening before, which he might have missed by matter of falling asleep halfway through. 

For a few minutes, Morpheus simply observed his friend, trying and failing to figure out what the reason for his nervousness could be. But there was nothing unusual about today or even next week, only Drink Night and training and another match at the end of the week. Nothing that would usually cause him to worry. 

“Hob?” he called out, a hint of the confusion he was feeling making its way into his voice. “Will you tell me what’s wrong?”

His friend immediately stopped in his tracks, hands falling uselessly to his sides. 

“I was pacing again, wasn’t I?” he sighed. 

“You were,” Morpheus stepped closer to Hob and let his head fall on his shoulder, knowing that touch was one of the things that brought Hob the most comfort in these moments. Almost instantly his friend started to deflate, one of his hands coming up to run through Morpheus’ hair, and he allowed it for a few minutes without saying a word, hoping that Hob would begin talking of his own accord. When it became clear that he wouldn’t do so, Morpheus turned his head to look at him, the angle giving him a clear view of Hob’s profile. 

“What’s wrong, Kollitós? If you tell me, we can find a way to fix it.” 

He was mirroring Hob’s words from a few months ago, and from the small huff that left his lips it didn’t go unnoticed.

“‘Kollitós’? That’s a new one. What does it mean?” Hob deflected, which was rather unusual for him. Morpheus pretended he didn’t notice and placed a hand on Hob’s chest, right over his heart. 

“Best Friend,” It was a simple answer, a word Morpheus had been thinking about for a long time now. There had never been someone like Hob in his life, someone he trusted so completely and who brought out the best in him. He was, on all accounts, the best friend Morpheus had ever had. But, perhaps, it was not a notion the two of them shared. After all, Hob was a much more sociable person, he had plenty of friends, many of whom he had known for the better part of his life, much longer than he knew Morpheus. “You don’t have to… to feel the same way about me, of course. But I wished for you to know.”

Morpheus did not quite manage to finish his sentence before he was pulled into a crushing hug, Hob’s arms squeezing his ribs so hard he struggled to breathe, but he couldn’t help the chuckle escaping him at his friend’s enthusiasm. 

“What do you mean, I do not have to feel the same? Are you crazy, of course I do!” A kiss was pressed to Morpheus’ cheek, and he felt the spot growing warm under Hob’s gaze. 

“I am glad, then,” He whispered in response, and cuddled up closer to his friend. “I guess you don’t want to talk about what’s stressing you out?”

Hob placed another kiss on his cheek before letting him go, an apologetic smile on his lips. “I’m sorry, lovey. Trust me that it’s nothing bad?”

Another sigh, but Morpheus nodded. “Alright. You know I trust you.” 

- - - 

Two hours and three glasses of wine later, Morpheus sat in the midst of his team, laughing over a story Matthew told, when the door to The New Inn opened behind him. Usually he would have barely noticed, after all guests came and went like clockwork at a place like this, but the way all heads at the table suddenly turned towards the door meant this wasn’t just another guest. But who could possibly cause them all to perch up like this, to smile and cheer and wave like they had never been happier to see someone?

“Olethros?” Morpheus whispered as he turned around, the name of his baby brother feeling so foreign and yet so familiar on his tongue. 

“Hello, Oneiros.”

It had been years since he last heard that nickname, a decade at least. 

The last time Morpheus had heard it was on the day of Delilah's funeral. It had also been the day Olethros ran from their home, after their parents had tried to pretend her death had been of natural causes, an accident, a simple fall down the stairs where she had broken her neck instead of the real tragedy it had been. 

The last time Morpheus had heard that nickname, his brother had been in shambles, looking more like a haunted man than the child he had still been. He had been too skinny, much like Morpheus himself had been, struggling to eat and sleep and live with the knowledge their sister had taken her own life. 

But Olethros had blamed himself for her death, for he had believed that he had been supposed to protect her and that he had failed. 

It had destroyed him. 

Now, there was a smile on his brother’s face, and a child in his arms. A little girl, no older than a year, with a shock of red hair and a smile that rivalled that of her father’s. Because there was no doubt about it, this ray of sunshine could hardly be anyone else’s. And Olethros looked… good. Happy. Settled. All the things he never had back home, especially during those past weeks, and also never had when they had seen each other on the pitch. Or perhaps he had, and Morpheus had simply been so blinded by anger and judgement and fear that he hadn’t seen. 

He couldn’t remember why he had ever ignored his brother on the field, now, why he hadn’t tried to reconcile, to find out how he had fared. 

So much lost time. So many lost chances. 

But what if his brother was angry with him for all those years he had pretended that he did not care for his presence? What if he took offence to Morpheus joining his team, saw it as betrayal for someone of the family he left behind to infiltrate his new life? 

What if he didn’t want to have Morpheus here? Would they make him leave? Would they favour their long-time friend and teammate over him, if Olethros wished for it? 

“I… I thought you left the team. You hadn’t played in- in months, I- I-,” Morpheus knew that he was beginning to breathe too quickly, that his thoughts were spiralling, the tell-tale signs of a meltdown dancing just at the edge of his vision. He had never asked about his brother, not once since joining the team. He was an awful older brother, caring so little for his own family, for the person who had introduced him to the sport which had since taken over his life.

God, he still remembered afternoons spent on the clearing behind the estate, a goal marked by stones and a ball stolen from their neighbours the only equipment they had. They would train for hours, sometimes deep into the night, every minute spent laughing with a carefreeness they had never felt at home. 

But then, Olethros had simply… gone. No goodbye, not even a note or letter. 

The first time he had seen him again was in his first year playing for Fawney Rig, where his brother had parried every single one of his shots on the Fiddlers goal. 

In all the years afterward, in all the games they played against each other, they had not exchanged a single word. 

And now, there was just one thing Morpheus wanted to say to his brother, something he should have said years ago but hadn’t out of stubbornness and unfounded anger. 

“I missed you, little brother.” His words caught on a sob as he stood and threw himself into Olethros’ arms, caring not for his tears, but only that his brother knew. And Olethros hugged him back with his free arm, holding him close in a way that sent Morpheus right back to his childhood, to nights huddled together in a blanket fort when their parents had been fighting. His little brother shouldn’t have had to take care of them all, protect them each time their parents’ fury had turned against them, but he always had, until that fateful day. 

Morpheus understood now that his brother had done the right thing, to leave and protect himself for once in his life and find people who would help him. 

“And I you, Oneiros,” Hearing the words spoken aloud lifted a weight from Morpheus’ shoulders that he hadn’t known he’d been carrying, the relief of it forcing more tears down his cheeks. “And I’m sorry, my brother.”

Morpheus had to blink at the words for a moment, not sure what they were supposed to mean. 

“What for?”

His brother sighed and took a step back from him so they could make eye-contact, his free hand moving from his back to his shoulder, squeezing once. 

“I am sorry for not noticing sooner that you needed help.”

For a moment, everything stood still. 

Olethros knew about Roderick. But he hadn’t been with the team for months, certainly not since Morpheus had joined them, and there were few people even here who he had told all of it. 

Actually, there was just one. 

And suddenly, a lot of things came into perspective. 

“One moment,” he said to his brother before turning around to Hob, who was currently hiding behind Cori and peeking slightly over his shoulder. “That was why you were so nervous today? Because you were… conspiring to reconnect me with my brother?” 

His best friend winced at that, as if the very idea of conspiring against him in any way physically hurt him, and Morpheus was almost inclined to believe that was the case with how much time Hob had spent pacing his living room this evening. At least it had been quite painful to watch. 

“It was rather intended as a risky surprise, I’d say! After all I knew from Olly how close the two of you have been back then and how much he wanted to finally reconcile with you and when I figured out why you have been ignoring him for all those years I couldn’t have simply not told him and I guess I just… I just wanted you two to get along again. I’m sorry, Dream.” Hob deflated a little after his nervous rant, the expression on his face so genuinely troubled Morpheus just wanted to pull him into a hug. 

“You are an idiot, Kollitós.” he answered instead, his voice soft, and Hob immediately perked up upon hearing the nickname, a smile spreading over his lips. 

“Your idiot?”

Morpheus hummed in agreement and turned back around to his brother, who looked amused at their banter, the smile on his lips matching Hob’s. 

“Hobert told me that the two of you have grown close, but I’ll admit that it’s slightly perplexing to witness myself.” 

Morpheus tried and failed to keep from snorting at the ridiculousness of Hobert, somehow an even worse nickname than Hob was on its own, but nothing could have prepared him for Cori’s answering whine behind him. 

“Be glad you missed these past months, Lily, they’re absolutely disgusting together.”

Lily. Morpheus couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him, completely unhindered, at the sheer stupidity of his friends. How in the world they kept coming up with these names was beyond him. 

Though, perhaps, at least Dream made a little more sense if Olethros had continued calling him Oneiros over the years. Lily, on the other hand, was just a ridiculous nickname for his brother. After all, Olethros had never been particularly feminine. 

Not like him. 

And while Morpheus’ thoughts were on femininity, he realised that he had completely forgotten to address the metaphorical elephant in the room. 

“What’s her name?”

Olethros raised an eyebrow in question at the sudden change of topic, and Morpheus couldn’t help but roll his eyes. Surely it was quite obvious who he was talking about.

“My niece, brother. What is her name?”

A hand reached for his from behind him then, warm and familiar, with callouses and scars he could tell by heart. Morpheus was not quite sure why Hob felt the need to do so now, but he would never refuse one of his friend’s offers of comfort. 

“We call her Lily, too,” Olethros began, and his voice wavered slightly. “But her name is Delilah.” Suddenly, Hob’s hand in his made a lot of sense, and Morpheus was immensely thankful for it.  “We wanted to keep her memory alive, even if our parents tried their hardest to achieve the opposite. Del deserves to be remembered.”

Morpheus nodded as tears gathered in his eyes, the emotions of having a piece of his baby sister again after all those years, even if it was just an old name on a new person, threatening to overwhelm him. But there was Hob’s hand in his, grounding him,  and there were years of grief and months of therapy behind him, reminding him that those emotions did not have to overtake him. 

And so he took a deep breath, allowed the waves of grief tearing at his heart to lap at him for a moment, but then let them go again, just like the sea let go of the beach after a moments’ embrace. 

Then he smiled up at his brother, letting go of Hob’s hand, and held out his arm towards little Lily. 

“Come on, let me hold my niece. And sit down, I’m sure we can squeeze you in next to John…”

[gargoyleandgremlinpress]

Renegade 2023 Bound Exchange: Strike Anywhere by Mad Lori

My recipient for the annual @renegadepublishing bound exchange this year was @sits-bound, which gave me the chance to explore some new Schitt's Creek fic!

Strike Anywhere by @madlori is a Schitt's Creek AU, where Patrick is a firefighter in Toronto, and David is a municipal engineer called in to consult on structural issues at fire scenes. They HATE each other on first sight, fight constantly… and inevitable end up secretly hooking up… and then secretly dating… and then secretly married, too embarrassed to admit it to their coworkers.

I had fun with the theme for this one, and used a blueprint image for the endpapers, and so many flames. So many! I'm really happy with how it turned out in the end, but there was a moment where things VERY MUCH had not gone to plan.

I like how the case turned out in particular! Too bad that I then had to cut the entire text block out of it and add sixty missing pages the day I planned to put it in the mail.

So let me set the scene. It's Dec 28. Exchange books are due in the mail Jan 1. I have spent several hours the day before finishing off stenciling the cover and spine of both books I'm sending, and am taking pictures before I package everything up. I flip to the back of the second book, and… huh. I know I formatted the AO3 metadata at the back of the book. Did I miss a page somehow?

It is then that I realize that something has gone badly wrong. On checking the typeset… my printed book ends at page 216. The typeset ends on page 277.

I got the textblock out of the case, sacrificing the endpapers, but with everything else intact. Realized that my pre-cut textblock paper was still sitting on my desk at work. Decided fuck it, I need to reprint the endpapers anyhow, and skulked in to use the big colour copier, even though I was on vacation.

The signatures fit into the case! Some funky cutting and gluing was required to take out the few duplicate pages and the blank pages from the original, make some tabs out of the edges, and glue it all in.

The mull did not come off as well as the endpapers, but it DID come off.

I cut off the sewn endbands, and the bookmark, glue everything back together, and trek back into work the next day to use the big guillotine and retrim the textblock.

The edges are re-speckled! Sewn endbands would mean forcing the needle through multiple layers of glue, and time is tight, so I made endbands out of bookcloth to match the case.

And! It! Fits! Casing in actually went better the second time.

I DID get it into the mail by the deadline, and it safely arrived in @sits-bound's hands, so now I can share the saga. I still can't believe it fit back in the case.

[talesofesther]

sweet calamity | ch 5

Wednesday Addams x Reader

Series Summary: It was something people described as the sweetest pain, the feeling of when the soul that's destined to find yours is closer to you. Wednesday saw it as a curse, promised herself she would hate whoever was chosen for her; but it's easier said than done.

A/N: I think this might be my favorite chapter yet. Let me know what you think. <3

Masterlist | Read ch 4 here

The clock on your bedside table read 1:16 AM. It was a little late, but also the only time when, technically, everyone was asleep.

You snuck out — well not really, considering you're not leaving the school, only your dorm — with careful and calculated steps, you made your way down the dark stairs and to the quad.

The reason for that, is that a particular flower you want to add to the quad's flowerbed only blooms at night. And you need to make sure that its color fits in well with the rest of the plants already there. Maybe it was futile and maybe it was your perfectionist side speaking, but you genuinely wanted the place to look nice when you were done.

Or you were just taking any small excuse you could get to keep your mind busy.

You could use your abilities if you wanted to, make the flower bloom during the day so you could see it in its full glory, but it didn't sit well with your heart to disturb its natural cycle.

So here you were, in your pajamas, shivering because of course you forgot your jacket, sneaking out into the night only to watch a few flowers bloom. It reminded you of the times that you'd do the same thing when staying over at your grandparents when you were younger; a smaller you hugging a huge cardigan around your shoulders, your bare feet feeling the grass between your toes as you sat down on the lawn and just waited for it to slowly happen.

The moon was high in the sky when you reached the quad, almost full and casting a pleasant glow for you. The air was cold, much colder than it was during the day but there was a certain comfort to it, you realized.

You closed your eyes for a moment, tilting your head up and breathing in deeply.

Quiet moments like these have always been some of your favorites.

She would probably enjoy it too.

Your mind drifted. You opened your eyes only to see a blanket of stars above you; endless, timeless.

Maybe she would complain about the colors, but you'd gladly add a few black flowers to the mix if she asked you to.

You shook your head, scolding yourself for missing someone who wasn't even yours, to begin with.

Five days ago, Wednesday found out you are her soulmate, and you haven't spoken with her since. It could be wishful thinking, but sometimes you had the feeling that she wanted to speak with you, however, you didn't feel much ready for that. The changes were small, like finding a new partner for a few classes that you used to sit with her, taking the longer path to some of them so you wouldn't end up bumping into her; little things to postpone what was most likely inevitable — you live in the same place after all, it was bound to happen — but for now, you didn't know what else you could do, other than avoid her.

With a soft sigh, you sat down on the ground, eyes fixed on your flowers in the middle of the quad. You hugged your knees close to your chest… and waited.

The night was serene, you could hear the rustling of leaves in the distance, crickets singing, and music.

A beat passed, and you frowned.

Music?

The melody was a little distant, but not much, you could hear it pretty clearly; soft notes coming from the cords of a cello.

You couldn't put a name to the song even if you tried, but you could tell it wasn't a happy one. The melody was somber; not creepy though, closer to sorrowful. It comes from the tallest room in Ophelia Hall, echoing through Nevermore's corners and undoubtedly waking a few students from their slumber.

You know it's Wednesday. Enid has complained to you about her cello solos in the dead of night one too many times already.

If you close your eyes and focus hard enough, you can picture her fingers moving with the cords, shaping the notes of the song.

From your spot on the quad, you look up at what you can see of the half-colorful round window. You stay there until her song ends and a little bit after, part of you knows she's still out there too. In times like these it feels like the universe is fighting to keep you close to Wednesday; you wonder when it'll see reason and give up — though secretly, part of you doesn't want it to. Because you could pretend you shared this little moment with her, after all, it was just you and her who were awake and out at this hour.

The thought of somehow feeling connected to her made you smile.

—

Wednesday dragged out the end notes of her song, the tip of her fingers burning and stinging over the cords; a pleasant, grounding feeling.

Thing closed her sheet music book, gesturing softly at her after.

"That's a silly question," Wednesday told him, setting aside her cello, "considering I have nothing to be worried about."

The disembodied hand gestured again, causing Wednesday to narrow her eyes at him.

"Her childish behavior does not bother me, I'm not sure why you would even assume that." She huffed, looking away from him with a clenched jaw, "she's the one who chose to keep it from me in the first place, so if she wants to keep her distance now…"

Wednesday breathed in deeply, she got up from her chair, and walked over to the edge of the balcony to let the cold wind kiss her cheeks, "it's just less work for me," she finished then.

Wednesday feels stuck in limbo sometimes, she doesn't understand the weight on her chest whenever she thinks of you, can't decide on how to feel about you nor why she even cares at all. She detests not knowing things, yet when it comes to soul bonds and flower perfumes, she sees herself walking blindfolded on a tightrope.

Thing came to her side carefully, he tapped her elbow, waiting until Wednesday's dark eyes settled on him. He gestured gently, his fingertips tapping the back of her hand once he finished.

In a quick move, Wednesday pulled her hand back and took a step away from him. She shook her head, breathing in deeply. "That could never be true," she pointed a finger at him, "say it again and I'll pick out each of your nails."

Wednesday turned around and walked back inside, leaving Thing alone in the night; but she laid in bed wide awake, staring at her ceiling for hours on end until the first birds started singing, his words replaying over and over in her mind.

———

The tall doors of the fencing room creaked when Wednesday pushed them open, the sunlight coming from the huge windows reflected on the pristine white walls and made the clashing blades shine.

The Addams girl walked between her peers, helmet in hand and chin held high. She could see their teacher instructing Xavier on his poor stance, holding his own blade in the correct position so the boy could copy. Wednesday scoffed when he failed again. He should stick to the bow and arrow, she thought.

Wednesday's gaze still looked for you in the crowds — while the teacher was busy getting frustrated with Xavier, she found you adjusting your uniform in the far corner of the spacious room.

She stalked closer, closing the distance between you and her. Your eyes found hers just before you lowered your helmet on your head and Wednesday could almost see the way your breathing faltered. She had caught you off guard.

You make to take a step back but your boot hits the wall, and it's suddenly very familiar to a recent memory that has been plaguing Wednesday's nights. She should hate you for it, for making her care about something she promised she wouldn't; but oh, she can't.

It's okay if you like her, there's nothing wrong with that.

Thing's words still echo in her mind.

Wednesday is quick to reach beside you, grabbing a blade for herself from the support on the wall and turning around to give you your desired space, because the image of you running away from her makes her stomach turn unpleasantly.

"Ready?" Bianca's voice caught Wednesday's attention and she looked up, only to see that the siren wasn't speaking with her, but with you.

You walked in front of her slowly, blade in hand as you took your stance, "yeah, ready."

Wednesday's grip on the steel handle of her own blade tightened; who was the absolute moron who paired you up with Bianca?

You were awful at fencing and Bianca was, arguably, even more competitive than Wednesday; and as much as she didn't want to admit it, the siren was good.

Your blade clashed with Bianca's for the first time, and a foreign feeling took over Wednesday's body as she watched the sparring unfold. She was restless, chest tight as she anticipated your every move.

Her lungs had a distant ache, because she's been holding her breath. Bianca's blade grazed the side of your head and Wednesday didn't know where to focus her unblinking eyes. She took a step closer when you almost lost your footing.

What the hell was happening to her?

Bianca was fast, too fast for you to follow. She striked, and you ducked out of the way but the movement caused the tip of her blade to scratch the side of your free hand.

Droplets of crimson red were quick to fall on the floor, staining the polished wood. The sharp pain made you wince, dragging your attention to the blood slowly flowing from the recent cut.

It was a blink-of-an-eye kind of thing. Bianca didn't see your wound, and you didn't see her going for the next blow until it was too late to defend yourself.

All that was heard was the loud clashing of steel against steel.

Wednesday stood in front of you, her blade holding Bianca's in place, with a look in her eyes that could send the bravest man running for the hills.

"What the hell, Wednesday?" Bianca snapped, lowering her weapon.

"This fight is clearly over," Wednesday tilted her head towards your bleeding hand, she still had her blade pointing to Bianca, daring her to object.

Bianca shifted her attention to you, her eyes softening, "shit, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"It's alright," you cut her off with a wave of your hand and a small, reassuring smile, "I'm alright."

"Addams," the teacher called, walking over to where you stood, "you're not allowed to interfere when other students are sparring".

Only when Wednesday saw Bianca walking away, did she lower her weapon. "Then you should learn how to properly pair up your students," she bluntly stated, raising an eyebrow at him.

The older man huffed, turning his gaze to you, "go to the infirmary." Was all he said before walking away.

You angrily took off your helmet, messing up your hair. "I had it under control," a frustrated scoff escaped you as you threw your blade to the floor. You refused to look up and meet Wednesday's eyes.

"Obviously not," she countered, "given how she was about to impale you with her sword had I not stepped in."

"Whatever, it's not like I asked for your help," you argued back a little too loudly and felt warmth rush to your cheeks when it attracted a few curious glances.

Wednesday flinched at your sudden tone, blinking a couple of times. You never snapped like that. After a beat of silence, she tried reaching out, "let me see it."

Only for you to take a big step back, holding your bleeding hand close to your chest as if trying to protect it. This distance, this brick wall you were trying to build up between you and her; it got Wednesday striving to keep her face impassive, to pretend like it wasn't taking away her sleep.

"I don't need you pretending like you care, Wednesday," you told her quietly, turning around to walk to the door, and Wednesday watched you leave. Again.

Her classmates were anything but subtle with the way they watched the two of you, no doubt wondering what about you was so special that prompted Wednesday to do what she had just done. To be honest, she was wondering the same thing.

With each of your steps — morning sunlight bathing you aureate as you walked — Wednesday could feel the thudding beat of her heart against her ribs, trying to escape her, trying to go after you.

Wednesday closed her eyes, mumbling a thousand curses under her breath as she shot down her ego. Damn you. She discarded her blade and helmet, hurrying to fall into step beside you.

"You're mine even if I don't want you to be," she forced out, sparing a single annoyed glance at you; her hand took hold of yours in a strong grip as she pulled you along, "I'm not letting anything happen to you."

—

The cut on your hand wasn't big, but the antiseptic still stung like a bitch.

You sat on one of the hospital beds of the infirmary, swinging your feet back and forth as the nurse wrapped a small bandage around your hand.

Wednesday was leaning back against the wall to your right, you could feel the weight of her eyes on you, unmoving; you felt like a deer under a panther's gaze.

But that analogy didn't work, did it?

You dare to steal a glance at her; you catch her straightening her posture, clearly not expecting you to do what you just did. Her eyelashes kiss the corner of her cheeks as she looks down at her boots, her arms crossed over her chest. There's something about her that wasn't there before, you just can't put your finger on it yet.

I'm not letting anything happen to you.

Why? You thought to yourself as you looked back at your hand, the white gauze now slowly turning a soft shade of pink. Why did she have to say that?

"You can come back later to change it one more time if you want to, but you should be fine by tomorrow," the nurse gently told you.

"Thank you, I will," you smiled, flexing your hand to test if the pain was still there. It was.

The older woman smiled back, before turning around to attend to a vampire girl who's accidentally eaten garlic.

You didn't move, only pursed your lips and gripped the edge of the bed; you had a feeling of what would happen next.

And it did.

Wednesday pushed herself away from the wall, her steps slow as she came to stand in front of you. She stopped closer than you thought she would.

"Lemon and salt will help," Wednesday told you.

Your head instantly snapped up to look at her, you frowned, eyes a tad too wide. "It'll sting like hell."

There's a ghost of a smile on Wednesday's lips that she never intended for you to see. She reached a hand to you, slowly, carefully, half expecting you to reject her touch again.

You didn't, and you're not sure why. But you did hold your breath before she even touched you.

She took hold of your injured hand, her fingers holding yours with a gentleness even she didn't know she was capable of. Wednesday turns your hand around, and somehow she knows you're back in that moment too.

She gulped, her thumb brushing over the dried blood stain on your uniform; "for the stain," Wednesday simply said.

"Oh," is all you can breathe out, afraid to break the spell that's holding this moment.

You allow yourself to savor her touch just for a second more before pulling your hand back.

Wednesday didn't comment on it, she refused to acknowledge the effect you have on her. She sets her jaw tight before saying; "I've been meaning to apologize."

You raised an eyebrow at her.

"For what I said when we first met," she continued, and you closed your eyes, because you were done crying.

"Had I known it was you I'd-"

"You what?" You interrupted her. "You'd tell me I'm not a burden? Or maybe that I shouldn't grow attached to you because you hated me before even knowing me?"

Wednesday's lips parted yet no words came out. This is wrong, this is all so wrong. She decides. This is not how our story should go.

You pushed yourself off the bed, picking up your bag to leave the infirmary.

And Wednesday follows, because that's all she can do now.

"Listen, Wednesday," you started after a sigh, pushing open the door and being welcomed with the chatter of Nevermore's busy hallways, "we can be friends if that's what you want us to be."

The students walking around you caused Wednesday to move closer, her shoulder bumping into yours with each step.

"But right now… I need time. And I need space." You shrugged, a melancholic smile coming to your lips.

Wednesday can't decide on how to feel, the thought of it brought a sour taste to her mouth. She should be glad, but that doesn't sit right with her either. And she thinks she should probably say something anyway, but before she could, someone else called out your name.

Both you and Wednesday turned to see Andrew waving animatedly to you as he molded his way between the students until he could reach you.

"Hey you," he greeted with a smile, then turned to the girl beside you, "Wednesday." He gave her a nod, and when she didn't answer, he looked back at you, "ready to present our work?"

You breathed in deeply, you hated talking in front of the class. "As I'll ever be."

"Relax, I'll be by your side the whole time." He offered.

You glanced at Wednesday before following him, the glint in your eyes resembling something akin to longing; "I'll see you around, yeah?"

Affection isn't a word Wednesday uses much, but she thinks of it a lot when it comes to you.

"Okay," she uttered quietly, and as you walked off with the guy, Wednesday managed to catch on to little bits of your next conversation;

"Hey so, you know how the Rave'n party is less than two weeks away, right? I was wondering if you'd like to go with me?" The annoying boy asked.

"Uh, yeah sure, I- I'd love to," was the last of your words that Wednesday could hear.

And she felt the strange urge to grab your hand and drag you away with her all over again.

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Read ch 6 here

Thank you for reading this little story. Feedback and reblogs are literally what keep me motivated to continue posting here, so I'd appreciate it if you could take some time to reblog and comment if you want. <3

Wednesday’s taglist: @milkiane @bookfrog242 @heelaechan @imagine-reblog @simp4wanda26 @sakurarukas @bluetreecloud20 @the-night-owl-blr @imlike-so-gaydude @user284747 @dreifhraniquo29 @emeraldevan @simp4nat @boobabietch @impossibleliv1031 @deadpool-in-a-snood @rainbow-love4ever @maria-403 @pompompuri @halleest @wandaromanova @marveloussimp @rainbow-hedgehog @left-and-right-up-and-down @get-the-fuck-outta-here @awolfcsworld @elduster @alexkolax @georgi-salva @imdumbhi @ladey @youralphawolf72 @reginassweetheart @justyourwritter69 @yangsroboarmm @8e-h-e8 @irish-piece-of-trash @femalehomosexual666

[readerinsertsaremyguiltypleasure]

Congratulations on 500 followers!!!

Could you do something with K and 13 for Darkling? I have this thought in mind he is married to the reader and they got in a fight or something or probably have been separated for a while now but are longing for each other. And somehow have been put in a situation where they are forced to share a bed. Could you make it a hea please?

Thank you very much!!!

One angsty Darkling fic with a happy ending coming right up.

K. Only one bed 13. ‘What happened to us?’

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

It was only one night, you reminded yourself as you pulled your small trunk through the halls of the inn. You were in Ryevost on a job investigating a local people smuggling ring. Not usually a job for the Second Army, but the smugglers in question were rumoured to have been helping the drüskelle kidnap Grisha, and so there you were.

And so was he.

General Kirigan had taken this particular crime personally, and had decided to oversee the investigation himself, joining you, Ivan, and Fedyor.

The problem wasn’t that he had come on the trip, though it had made for an awkward coach ride. No, the problem was that the inn only had two rooms available. Obviously, Ivan and Fedyor had taken one, which left you and Kirigan to share the other. That was the problem

Not too long ago, things would have been different. In fact, you and Aleksander sharing a room would have been pre-decided. But that was when you were still married. Now the idea of sharing a personal space just felt hollow.

You had been separated for a few months now, and you had given up hope of reconciliation. You had left quietly after another night alone, leaving nothing but a note telling Aleksander that you had secured other rooms in the palace and would be taking more missions away. He had not come after you.

‘This is us,’ said Aleksander, unlocking the door at the very end of the hall. He held it open and let you enter first.

You mumbled your thanks as you passed him, but then immediately stopped short. There was only one bed. Which, of course there was only one bed… but for some reason you had expected there to be two.

‘I doubt I’ll sleep,’ said Aleksander, shutting the door behind him. ‘You have the bed.’

‘Are you sure?’ You may not have been what you once were to each other, but you still had your manners. There was no need to be rude.

Aleksander nodded, a soft smile on his lips.

That smile had no right to be there. He didn’t get to smile at you like that – like he still loved you – not after all these months alone.

So, you ignored it and decided to get unpacked. You had just placed your trunk on the bed when a cold draft hit you, making you shiver.

Great. Just what you needed.

Thankfully, this was one problem that could be fixed, and with a flick of your wrists, you sent a fireball into the fireplace, lighting the kindling.

‘Much better,’ you said to yourself.

A soft chuckle came from behind you, and you turned to see Aleksander watching you from the doorway. You hated how attractive you still found him. That smirk had always been you undoing.

‘You always did hate the cold,’ he said, nodding to the fireplace. You had lit the one in his rooms the same way many times before.

You shrugged and went back to your unpacking. ‘Some things never change, I guess.’

‘And yet some things change so suddenly,’ he said. He was no longer smiling.

He slowly walked towards you, as if he was scared you would run. ‘Milaya…’ You closed your eyes, tears threatening to spill at the sound of him calling you that. ‘What happened to us? Why did you leave?’

‘Why did you wait so long to ask?’ you shot back, anger overriding the pain. ‘And it wasn’t sudden, Aleksander. You left me long before I left you.’

Aleksander stopped his advance but did not refute your claim. He knew what you meant.

‘The war…’ he started but you cut across him.

‘I know how important the war is. I know it’s more important than I am.’ You sniffed and wiped away the solitary tear that had fallen down your cheek. ‘Just because I know it, doesn’t mean I want to be reminded of it every night when I go to bed alone. Or every morning when I wake up without the person who should be there.’

A few more tears fell, and you quickly wiped them away. This was exactly why sharing a room was a problem. It reminded you of what you had lost.

Suddenly, Aleksander’s hands were on your cheeks. You tried to move away, but he held firm. ‘I thought you didn’t love me anymore,’ he said, wiping a tear away with his thumb.

‘I don’t,’ you said, though you both knew it was a lie.

‘I thought you didn’t love me,’ he repeated. ‘That’s why I didn’t come knocking down your door the moment I found your note, begging you to give me another chance. The war is important, yes… but nothing is more important to me than you are. Certainly not my own heartbreak. So, I let you go because I thought that’s what you wanted.’

‘All I wanted was you,’ you said, openly crying now. ‘It hurt too much to keep losing you to the war.’

Aleksander leaned his head down to rest against yours and closed his eyes. ‘Give me another chance,’ he whispered. ‘I know I’m far too late, but please, milaya. Let me show you how important you are.’

You reached up stroke his bearded cheek. It was a lot more unkept than you remembered it, though still within the standards for a General. ‘Promise me you’ll make time for us,’ you said. ‘I don’t need you by my side every moment of every day, but I need something, Aleksander. I’m your wife.’

Aleksander’s eyes snapped open, alight with hope. ‘I’ll give you as much time as you want,’ he said without hesitation. ‘I’ll give anything.’

You could tell that he meant every word, which was what made you lean forward to bring your lips to his.

It started as a soft kiss, one that tested the waters after so long apart, but Aleksander soon deepened it. He kissed you like a man possessed, desperate to make the most of something he may never get again. You felt all his hope, guilt, and longing, and so you gave him all your emotions in return. All your pain, all your heartbreak.

And all your love.

You had no idea how long you stood there, lost in each other, but eventually you had to come up for air. ‘Move back in with me,’ he said, still breathless. ‘I’ve missed you so much.’

You realised you could be setting yourself up for more heartache, but you just couldn’t ignore what your heart was telling you.

You smiled softly and nodded.

‘I’ve missed you, too.’

[comicalfont]

Undertale is for Everyone

Happy Valentine's Day! Yesterday marked five years since the day I first started playing Undertale. It's led me to dwell on what exactly I would say the game has meant to me, with how loaded a question that is. There's so much I owe to Undertale, and the joy it's brought me is something everyone is as deserving to be a part of. Despite some recent fandom events, all members of the fandom need to know that the game celebrates and welcomes them with open arms, which I'll get to more in a bit.

I first played Undertale at a period in my life with a lot of unanswered questions, both for present me and future me. I'd managed to not give it a try in the first few years it was around, but after running into enough Deltarune fan content in the wild when it came out, I played Chapter 1 and loved every bit of the atmosphere and characters, and I wanted to play Undertale right after. After accidentally killing Toriel and starting over, I was immediately drawn into the story it told and the friendships I was making. My appreciation of Sans was there from the start, and here I am, many reader fics with him later, and the rest of the main gang felt like buds I'd been hoping to meet some day. Even the minor characters meant so much to the journey, and by the time it was done and I'd seen what Frisk/the player's kindness and want for peace can do, I was completely hooked and the game rented a free condo in my brain.

What I wasn't expecting was the other ways Undertale's touched my life. I'm trans, and before I'd played, it had only really been associated with discomfort and a wish for things to be better, without much of a light at the end of the tunnel to look at. Undertale's queer-friendly themes and the characters' insistence on being themselves opened me up to thinking about a future where my own kindness and, well, determination can lead me to being the true me. While my trans story was far from done, it helped me see the future as something I can smile about, rather than needing to be afraid. The fics that I've written about Undertale, and especially the bone-friend, since I played have also led me to meet the people I consider my closest friends, as well as being a gateway to other fandoms that have captured my interest. These connections I've made through the game are ones I'll carry with me for the rest of my life.

So, where am I going with all this? Undertale has invited me into a better path than the one I'd been taking, and that's an opportunity I'll forever be grateful for. Unfortunately, there are some in the fandom space who have shared hateful views about people simply for who they are, and everyone should know how far those views are from the truth. Undertale is a game about love and growth, and it is the responsibility of those who participate in its community to follow its footsteps and celebrate everyone for their traits; not just tolerate, but celebrate. For fellow trans people in particular, I've been thinking about this the most; you are real men, real women, and real non-binary identities, and all of those things are represented in Undertale itself. Celebrating trans lives isn't just the right thing to do, it's a part of this wonderful game we're all enjoying together.

Maybe this reaches just two people, or twenty, or more if I'm lucky, but whoever does read this far, thank you for taking the time to see how much Undertale has meant to me over these five years, and I hope you know how much you mean to the community. We're all making it a better place by being ourselves, and I hope the game keeps lifting people up for many years to come. Now, go read that new volume of the Undertale/Deltarune Newsletter!