#my new year's resolution is to eventually share it with you all this year!

[gabrielleragusi]

For Artists: My Experience with Commission Platforms and Illustration Agencies

Hi there! I’ve been wanting to compile a list of commission platforms that I’ve personally used for the longest time, and I finally did it! I’ve highlighted the still-active commission platforms in bold and struck those that don't exist anymore so you can jump to the sections that interest you without needing to read my entire story.

Let me start by briefly introducing myself.

I’m Gabrielle, a fantasy illustrator. Since 2014, I’ve been working on book covers and illustrations for publishers, authors, and book subscription boxes. Early on, work wasn’t as frequent as it is now. I had to search for opportunities myself, and even small private commissions were important for building my portfolio and earning some money, which I’d spend on materials, books, and online courses. Like many other artists, I started out by trying my luck with the biggest art community available at the time.

DeviantArt

2009-2018

Once upon a time, there was a virtual haven called DeviantArt. To my teenage self, it was a magical place. I signed up in 2009 and thought I’d never leave!

At first, I created an account just to share my work and learn. I didn’t even think about commissions for four or five years. But when that first inquiry finally landed in my inbox, things took off! My mum swears she remembers my excitement when I got my first commission, but for some reason, I’ve completely forgotten about it. I can't remember what it was or how much it paid. It might have been a portrait of a fantasy character.

Commissions on DeviantArt were fairly frequent, especially considering my cheap prices at the time. I used to offer discounts and post my rates in my DeviantArt journal, or in Commission groups that featured artists either monthly or weekly. After checking out my profile, a client could simply send me a private message and from there, we’d discuss payment, deadlines, and other details, and the platform didn’t take any fees, much like how ArtStation works today. Everything happened through private messages or email, with direct contact between artist and client.

The downside of this process was that there was no dispute resolution system on the platform. I had to handle all issues myself, and unfortunately, problems did arise sometimes: there were clients changing their minds about commissions, asking for refunds after work was delivered, refusing to pay, or just ghosting me. These issues didn’t happen because clients were evil, but rather because I was inexperienced and allowed some to take advantage of my naivety.

However, all that frustration helped me develop my commission process through trial and error (mostly error). And despite the challenges, I can say with satisfaction that most of the commissions I received through my DeviantArt profile were positive experiences.

DeviantArt eventually introduced a commission feature for Core (Premium) users, which came with a platform fee, but I didn’t use it much, and I’m not sure if it still exists.

The real beauty of dA, though, was the connections I made. I was able to meet people, both artists and clients, that I’m still in contact with today, and some of whom I still collaborate with.

I closed my account in 2018 or 2019, but by that time, I hadn’t really used it for a couple of years. The new user interface was a bit of a turn-off for me. I had always loved the geeky, and dare I say cozy, look of the old green and grey aesthetic, with its customisable panels that you could move around and personalise with HTML code... But I digress.

Artists and Clients

2013-2016

While taking small commissions on DeviantArt, I discovered Artists & Clients. It was a nice platform for clients to get things like their D&D characters or groups illustrated for relatively cheap. I think my highest price was $50 for a single character portrait, with the platform taking a 15% cut. I used it for about two or three years before the platform started to change.

As more artists with hentai art styles flooded in, the homepage shifted, and so did the clientele. There’s nothing wrong with drawing naked anime girls, of course, but you can understand that if a client is looking for a fantasy, semi-realistic painting of their female orc character, or a realistic portrait of their spouse, it's more than likely that they won't bother sifting through a sea of anime girls to find the style they want, imagining it isn't here. Let's just say that, at the time, the website took a definite direction that wasn't in line with my genre, but this direction didn't make the different, more realistic art styles stand out either.

Soon, commissions slowed down for me, so I closed my account, but by then I was already working elsewhere.

That said, this platform could still be a useful tool if you’re looking to take on smaller commissions.

DreamUp

2014-2015

DreamUp wasn’t an AI generator back then. It was actually a subsidiary of DeviantArt, where clients could post projects and artists could apply. It was a competitive platform that offered well-paid work–very well-paid. I remember seeing jobs posted that ranged from $300 to $1,200. DreamUp was a very professional platform for clients with a mid to high budget.

I believe I landed my very first book cover commission through this website when I was in my last year of high school. I remember getting the job and going to school the next morning, excited to share the news with my classmates. Everyone was super thrilled for me (we were a really close-knit class!), and I felt like I was walking on air.

Unfortunately, as far as I know, that book was never released, but it didn’t matter because I was moving forward, and fast.

I’m not sure when DreamUp was shut down, but I do know that DeviantArt held onto the copyrighted name, assigning it to something so anti-old DreamUp that it still boggles my mind.

ArtCorgi

Now Artistree

2014-2019

When I received an invitation to join ArtCorgi from its founder, I already had a somewhat consistent portfolio. I was painting portraits and fantasy illustrations, and the clients on this platform were looking for both–your typical wedding and pet portraits, as well as book covers, which were what really interested me. To get to the latter, I had to do the former. Over the years, I’ve painted so many realistic portraits that now I have a strict rule for my own sanity not to do them any more. I have great respect for portrait artists, but it’s just not me.

When I first submitted my prices to the person I was in contact with, she kindly suggested that I raise them... a lot. That was a major step forward in my professional career. I went from charging $50 to $100/$200 overnight. And to my surprise, people actually wanted to commission me at those prices!

From 2014 to 2019, I took nearly every commission that came my way. I never spoke directly with the clients; all instructions and feedback went through my point of contact, which helped maintain a level of professionalism, although now that I’m used to working directly with clients, I’m not sure I’d want to go back to having an intermediary.

Sadly, as with all good things, this chapter came to an end. My point of contact eventually left communication in the hands of someone else, and shortly after, the commission fee changed to, I believe, 30%.

Simply put, 30% is an unrealistic cut for a website like this. For an agent that gets you all kinds of big work in the publishing industry, sure, but since this was not the case I had to stop taking commissions. Despite that, my overall experience with ArtCorgi was very positive.

Today, ArtCorgi joined another platform, Artistree. As far as I can tell, Artistree doesn’t take any fees from artists, with clients covering a small cost instead.

Sketchmob (?)

2016-2020

This was probably the platform I used the most. I’ve lost count of how many commissions I received through Sketchmob. Many. Enough to generate a steady income at the time. With reasonable fees and a variety of art styles available, clients contacted me almost daily. Communication was direct between artists and clients, and payments could be split. The review system also worked very well… for a while.

Once I raised my prices, requests became fewer and farther apart. But by then, I was already working with my own clients.

Is this platform still active? Who knows. The website is still up and the chat feature works, but I’ve seen users complain that money available for withdrawal never arrived via PayPal (the only payment method the platform accepted, if I remember correctly). Personally, I wouldn’t risk completing a job through Sketchmob right now, at least not until they release an update.

If you’ve used the platform recently and successfully received payment within the last six months, please let me know, and I’d be happy to update this section!

Upwork

2017-2019

In 2017, I was determined to break into the book publishing industry. After trying out Fiverr and Freelancer.com with no success (the competition was too fierce for someone just starting out), I decided to give Upwork a shot. The platform looked very professional, and while the process sounded a bit complicated, I wanted to land the interesting projects I saw featured in my category. I really wanted to work with a big client… but big clients didn’t seem to want me, despite having the Rising Talent badge.

In two years of bidding for jobs and submitting proposals, I only landed two projects: a small commission from a private client who actually reached out to me, and another project that I bid on.

Don’t get me wrong, I was ecstatic at the time and truly appreciated every opportunity that came my way. But looking back, I can see why Upwork didn’t work out for me. The platform just wasn’t the right fit for my style and niche, which is fantasy illustration. Graphic design, however, was (and still is) in much higher demand.

The commission process on Upwork wasn’t as simple as on other platforms. For instance, at the time, costs were calculated hourly, which was a challenge for someone like me who prefers working with flat fees (having already calculated my average hours spent on an illustration). From what I’ve seen, this has since changed.

One positive aspect of Upwork is its current 10% cut on what artists earn. I don’t recall if this has changed over the years, but 10% is quite reasonable in my experience. Of course, 0% would be even better, but for a platform as large as Upwork, 10% is fair.

Illustration Agency

2019-2021

By 2019, I had built a solid, consistent portfolio thanks to my personal work and commissions. I had a simple website in place, my Instagram following was growing… I was steadily working toward my goal of illustrating covers for big publishers (which didn't happen until two years ago).

So, when an illustration agency reached out to me one day, I was over the moon. I had always heard that artists were the ones who had to approach agencies, not the other way around.

Well, that should have been my first red flag.

I won’t name this agency because, unfortunately, I have nothing positive to say about it. In fact, the word “nothing” perfectly describes my involvement with them. Nothing came of this barely there experience.

The agency invited me to sign up, not on an exclusive basis, but they assured me they’d get me work. That work never came. Once in a while, I’d receive messages saying they were trying to pitch my portfolio to a French publisher or another client, but... nothing.

Please understand that meanwhile I was already working directly with shops and authors, so I don’t believe my portfolio was the problem. The real issue was something I didn’t realise at the time: some agencies do this. They feature talented artists in their catalogue without having actual clients lined up, just to appear more professional and credible to potential clients. Did this strategy work for them? Maybe. I’ll never know.

In 2021, I politely asked them to remove my portfolio from their website, and that was the end of it.

After that, I never actively sought out an agent again. By the time my portfolio was strong enough to approach a serious agency, I just didn’t need representation anymore.

Hireillo

2019-2022

My experience with Hire an Illustrator, or Hireillo, is mixed. At the time, Hireillo was a platform that hosted artists' portfolios, featured artist-submitted news, provided useful articles, resources, and directories of artists and agents. I joined the site hoping to catch the eye of publishers, but I was mostly contacted by authors and one fellow artist for a graphic novel.

Unfortunately, most inquiries didn’t go beyond the first couple of messages due to budget constraints. I did, however, have fun sharing news about my painting process and projects I landed on my own, which were often featured by the website. Additionally, if I had questions about 'complicated' things like copyright, or just needed advice, I could ask the website’s owner and that was incredibly helpful.

Despite these benefits, I didn’t see any real results, which was a little disappointing. The subscription fee was also... odd, for lack of a better word. $5 per week. In the end I just couldn’t justify the cost, so I stopped using the website altogether.

Reedsy

2019-2022

Finally, we come to the turning point.

I remember stumbling upon Reedsy randomly. It wasn’t very well known at the time, and I think it still isn’t. I was nervous when I submitted my portfolio because their catalogue features the best of the best: designers who’ve created covers for bestsellers, THE bestsellers, people who’ve worked on Stephen King covers, or George R.R. Martin's. Designers, editors, and marketers who are veterans. I didn’t have high hopes for my application. So, I was in shock when it got accepted.

I had an introductory Skype call with a representative from Reedsy, who explained how everything worked. Before the call ended, I remember asking if there was a good chance I’d get work through the platform. The rep laughed and said, “Yes.”

A few weeks in, I understood that laugh.

Reedsy has an overwhelming demand for book covers and commercial projects. For every designer there are many more clients. In peak seasons, I was getting requests almost every day. I’m not exaggerating.

Reedsy transformed my portfolio and my pricing structure. Thanks to the income I earned through the platform, I was finally able not to take everything that came my way but be selective and choose only the projects that really interested me.

The commission process is simple: artists pretty much decide how to split payments, what to include in agreements, and the best part, the most beautiful and helpful feature of all, they can request and adjust deadlines. For someone like me who's terrible with deadlines, this feature was a lifesaver. The admins are also very kind and responsive, available via email or chat.

Unfortunately (this is my last 'unfortunately', I promise), my time on Reedsy came to an end for personal reasons. I’ll explain since it’s no secret.

All my images on Reedsy were watermarked with my signature (my full name), which apparently violated the platform’s rules. Why? Because if a client saw my last name, they could contact me directly and bypass Reedsy, which meant the platform lost potential fees. I’ll admit this did happen a few times, but I had the good sense to redirect the client back to Reedsy.

After three years, an admin finally noticed and asked me to remove my full name from the watermark and any text on my profile. It was a simple and reasonable request, but here’s where the problem started. Profiles on Reedsy are public, and images appear in search engines like Google Images, meaning anyone could download my work and use it without permission. Sure, watermarks can be removed, but uploading my work without one in the first place felt like a bad idea. Btw, not only do I use watermarks, but I also use Glaze to protect my illustrations before sharing them online.

Anyway, for this reason, and also because I couldn’t get over the fact that full names were public at the time, something I won’t get into because, believe me, I tried over email, and my reasons went into the void (now, last names are just initialised, like Gabrielle R. Okay. Sure.), I had to close my account–they would have done it anyway because it was already 'flagged'.

Overall, if you’re willing to overlook the last name conundrum, I can’t recommend Reedsy enough. If you have a killer, solid portfolio and a love for books and editorial projects, go for it!

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

I hope you'll find this useful! If you have any questions, please don't hesitate to ask (: Oh, and here's an old article I wrote in 2020, titled:

Tips to freelance illustrators to avoid being screwed over

Who knows, maybe I'll write another 'article' post in four years!

Instagram  - ArtStation - Website - Inprnt - Etsy - TikTok

[pascalispretty]

Old Holiday, New Traditions

Joel Miller x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 2.4k

Warnings: cowgirl sex, unsafe sex, Joel mouthing off during sex, established relationship

Summary: Safe in Jackson, Joel celebrates his first New Year's Eve in decades. (ao3).

Notes: My Secret Santa gift for @bluebeary-jay! Merry Christmas! My thanks as always to @misscharlielulu for her support.

Joel had never been one for a big celebration on New Year’s Eve. There had been a few parties with Sarah’s mother when he was younger. Later, he rang in the New Year with Sarah – sitting her on his shoulders to watch fireworks, or moving clocks forward to feign the moment of midnight for her.

After Sarah, he’d had no desire to celebrate. It was just another marker of time, the yawning gulf opening up in his life between her past and his present.

All the New Year meant to him was another year without his baby girl.

Yet somehow, between their arrival in Jackson in the spring and the approaching winter, Ellie had gotten him to look forward to it. She spoke excitedly of the party held in Jackson to kick off the new year. It involved weeks of preparation, and almost everybody in town pitching in to help. Slowly, the promise of the New Year was no longer something he dreaded.

And then there was you. You, who’d been in Jackson for longer and filled Ellie’s head with stories of New Year’s celebrations past. You, who’d somehow worked your way into Joel’s bed, and then his heart. He’s hard pressed to explain how you – bright, tender you, who still got upset when your neighbours’ cat left small carcasses on your doorstep – had taken to him so quickly.

Between you and Ellie, you convince him to attend his first New Year’s Eve in decades.

****

It’s late by the time the two of you head back to Joel’s place. It’s almost one in the morning, but the party in the Tipsy Bison isn’t showing much sign of slowing down. You’d left Ellie giggling in a corner with Cat, the two of them no doubt thrilled to have pulled one over on Joel about being ‘just friends’.

The snow crunches under your feet as you make your way home, your hand tucked into the crook of Joel’s elbow. The sound of the party carries far down the street, almost every resident of Jackson still inside. Only those on patrol, and those too sick to get out of bed, would miss it. It’s a celebration of surviving and thriving for another year.

“Make any resolutions this year?” You ask Joel teasingly. The air is cold enough to make your breath mist, and you shiver despite your warm clothes.  

“Yeah. Stop lettin’ you ‘n Ellie talk me into stuff,” he huffs.

“Oh come on. You had a good time.” You had caught him smiling at one point, watching Ellie dance with some of the other teenagers.

“Wasn’t terrible,” he says eventually. “Ellie looked like she had a real good time.”

“Yeah, she did,” you agree. “All the other kids seem to really like her.” Cat in particular, though you don’t say that aloud. It had been sweet to watch the two tiptoe around one another with all the hallmarks of an adolescent crush.

“It’s good for her. Bein’ around people her own age, bein’ able to have friends.”

“I still can’t believe Dina managed to get her to dance.” A smile tugs at the corner of Joel’s mouth again. His smiles aren’t frequent, but it’s a huge change from the intimidating, scowling man who had first arrived in Jackson over a year ago. Slowly but surely, you think Jackson is becoming his home.

In just the same way, his home is becoming yours. You’re spending fewer nights at the house you share with Dina and Rebecca. Ellie no longer reacts with any surprise when she finds you having breakfast at her kitchen table. You even keep a change of clothes tucked in the bottom of Joel’s dresser. You’d never ask Joel to put a label on whatever you are, but you’re not sure you need him to. As if to prove your point, he doesn’t even ask if you’re coming home with him; he just carries on walking right past the turn that leads to your house.

The noise of the party has long faded by the time you get to Joel and Ellie’s house; your boots crunching through the snow is the only sound you can hear. You and Joel stomp your feet to shake off the loose snow, and unlace your boots standing right next to the front door so you can step inside in your socks. Joel had imposed the rule about not tracking snow inside after Ellie had gone flying on the wooden floor left slick by snowmelt, and you’d both readily agreed. Joel takes your boots with him, doubtless to put them with his in the kitchen to dry off as you start taking off your many layers.

In just your jeans and a tee shirt, you make your way upstairs to Joel’s bedroom. The heat is on; it doesn’t take long for the warmth to come back to your feet and fingers. Turning into Joel’s room, you don’t turn on the main light. Instead, you light the candle on the bedside table, casting the room in a soft golden glow.

The candle lit, you move over to the record player in the corner. There’s a vinyl already waiting, so you simply switch it on and lower the needle. Soft, Spanish guitar fills the room. You’re flicking through the crate full of records when Joel’s strong arms loop around your middle. You can’t help smiling to yourself, resting your hand on his as he kisses the side of your head.

“Music, candles, you got me drunk…you tryin’ to seduce me darlin’?” He whispers against the shell of your ear.

“Tommy was the one who got you drunk,” you remind him. Joel grunts in acknowledgement, squeezing you a little tighter.

“My mind ain’t on Tommy right now.” He turns you in his arms, those dark eyes of his unfathomable as he looks down at you. “I’m more concerned with how I can thank my girl.”

Before you can respond, he leans in and kisses you. It’s a soft kiss, barely more than a peck. It’s still enough to send the first sparks running through your veins. Joel brings one of his hands up to cup your jaw, his large palm warm against your skin.

“You looked pretty when you were dancing, baby,” he murmurs, his thumb stroking your cheek. A derisive snort escapes you.

“I looked like an idiot.” Dina had pulled you in to dance, some variation on a jig that had both of you collapsing into breathless giggles by the end.

“You looked happy.” Joel kisses you again, a little deeper this time. The simple statement fills you with a different kind of warmth, and you make a contented sound against his full lips. You loop your arms around his neck, trying to get as close to him as you can. He holds you tight, and not for the first time you’re struck by the contrast in his sheer strength, and the gentleness with which he handles you.

The hand at your waist creeps below the hem of your shirt, sliding up to cup the weight of your breast. Even over your bra, his touch makes you shudder.

“Off,” he huffs impatiently, breaking the kiss to pull your tee shirt up and over your head. You start in on the buttons of his flannel shirt, doing your best to concentrate as Joel brushes your hair back over your shoulder and starts kissing your neck. His stubble prickles at your delicate skin and his lips immediately kiss away the sting.

The heat of arousal floods through your body, your fingers skittering over the small buttons. It takes you longer than it should to get the navy shirt off him, followed swiftly by the soft grey tee shirt he had on underneath. You can feel his cock starting to stiffen against your belly, and it only adds to the tingling sensation under your skin as your nerve endings set alight.

Joel steers you both back towards the bed, the two of you shedding your remaining clothes as quickly as you can. He settles himself into bed, leaning back against the headboard as he helps you into his lap. You sigh softly as you settle on his thighs, one of your hands curling around the wood of the headboard and the other finding Joel’s shoulder.

 “You’re so pretty, baby,” Joel murmurs, his hands warm on your hips. He pulls you closer so your hips are flush with his. His cock, hot and hard, bumps against your middle, trapped between your bodies. He crushes you close in a deep kiss, tilting his head to slot his mouth against yours. One of his hands slides up to caress your breasts again, touching you with increasing impatience.

When you break apart, he leaves you gasping for air. Precome smears across your belly as you press closer to him. It’s not enough. You feel uncomfortably slick and devastatingly empty; you let out a soft, longing sound.

“Need you,” you whine, your fingertips skating over his stomach to grasp his cock. The weight of it in your hand makes you shiver. Joel uses his grip on your hips to encourage you up, rising up on your knees enough to be able to notch the broad head of his cock against your entrance. A hiss escapes through Joel’s teeth.

“Fuck, you’re so wet.” He exhales a gasp into the side of your neck, his breath hot on your skin. He bites into the soft skin as you start to sink down on him. You inhale the scent of his hair, the soft curls tickling your face as he trails kisses and nips down your skin.

“That’s it,” he mumbles against your throat. “That’s it, good girl, take it just like that…” His hands help you move. As wet as you are, he’s so much that you can’t take him all in one go. You have to sink down slowly, impaling yourself with gradual flicks of your hips. Every thick inch of him strains your muscles, but the feeling of fullness is glorious.

“Oh, fuck, Joel-” you manage, breathless. He makes a hushing sound, smoothing one hand down the line of your spine. It’s meant to be a soothing gesture, but it only serves to wind you up even more, your nerves fraying at his touch. He flexes his hips, somehow driving himself in even deeper, and you whimper into his hair.

Joel coils one strong arm around your waist, his nose pressing against the hinge of your jaw. He lets you catch your breath. When you give your first, halting twist of your hips, he stutters an inhale, the fingers on your hip tightening.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he says, his voice tight with need. “Ride me, go on.” He starts to move with you, meeting every slow stroke of your hips. Every pass of his cock stokes the fire in your belly higher. You cling to him, needing to be as close as physically possible. The room feels suddenly stifling, your world shrunk down to just your bodies on Joel’s bed.

Your pace had started slow, but Joel is beginning to move with growing insistence. The hand on your hip presses between your bodies. When his searching fingertips find your clit, you drop your head back like a puppet whose strings have been cut. It opens you up more to Joel, giving him easier access to the sensitive bundle of nerves at your apex.

“Need you to come,” he grunts, his thumb stroking across your clit. “Wanna feel you come on my cock.” With every thrust of his hips, he works his thumb across your clit, setting you alight from within and without. Every shift and touch pulls you closer towards the edge. He mouths at your neck, your eyes fluttering closed as you writhe on his lap.

You start to move a little faster, chasing the high of your climax. Joel matches your pace, the obscene sound of your bodies meeting filling the room.

“Like that, that’s it, sweetheart,” he croons. “Good girl, baby, take what you need…”

“Joel,” you whine. “Joel, Joel, Joel-” You say it like a prayer, chanting it over and over.

It’s not long before he sends you hurtling over the edge, your orgasm hitting you so hard that you barely manage to hold yourself upright. The tension that’s been coiling in your belly snaps, sending molten fire pouring through your body. You feel him covering your face with kisses, the sensation of it far away somehow as you come back to yourself slowly.

His thumb keeps stroking circles around your clit, dragging out your climax. It threatens to push you into oversensitivity, and you whimper pathetically. Your cunt clenches around his length, the muscles unsure whether they want to pull him in deeper or push him out. The fluttering of your walls must get him there; before your brain can catch up to what’s happening, he’s pulled out of you.

It only takes a few desperate strokes of his hand before he’s coming all over your stomach. You feel ruinously empty, your primal need for Joel not helped by the ragged groan he lets out as he comes. He sits back against the headboard, and you watch the rise and fall of his broad chest as he struggles to catch his breath.

“Sorry baby,” he mutters, his thumb catching a pearlescent bead of come before it can drip down onto your cunt. He reaches for the stack of rags he keeps in his bedside table for this purpose, carefully wiping away his spend. You’re too tired to wash properly; instead, you simply let yourself fall onto the bed beside him.

Joel presses a kiss to your forehead before rolling over to blow out the candle. Taking advantage of the movement, you curl up behind him, spooning him. For once, he doesn’t grumble and protest and claim he doesn’t like it. He just rests his hand atop yours, and lets you snuggle closer.

You look down to see if he needs help as he draws the blankets over you both, and you notice the window for the first time since you came home.

At some point while you were having sex, it started snowing. It’s coming down thick, the world outside the window only visible in shades of white and grey. Tomorrow, everything will look fresh and new, the perfect start to a new year.

“Joel?” You whisper softly.

“Yeah?”

“I really am glad you agreed to come.” You rest your head against his back. It takes him a long moment to reply, and you almost wonder if he’s fallen asleep on you.

“I’m glad I went. It was my first good New Year’s in decades,” he says eventually. You snuggle closer, his back warm against your cheek.

“Happy New Year, Joel.”

Taglist:

@avengersfan25 @misscharlielulu @apenny4thots @its-nebuleuse @irishavengersassemble

[14dayswithyou]

The 14DWY brainrot is real... >_< were ypu planning on sharing koi ren's design here too or is it discord only for now? remember to drink lots n lots of water today 🐸☔️

i don't rmbr if i included this but can you share any koi crumbs too?

✦゜ANSWERED: aaaaa I'm 14 years late to this ask (/silly), but thank you for reminding me!! I'll add the new Mer Ren design to da queue >:3

I'll also put the Koi Ren (I'm rocking with this new name!!) crumbs under the cut!!

"Stop rocking the boat, Ren." Without sparing a glance in his direction, you continue to stare out into the vast, open lake. "You'll scare away all the fish."

Had you turned around, you would've seen the faux-deadpan look on his face as Ren takes in the irony of your words. As if to prove a point, he gently swishes his tail in the water, which causes small ripples to form and (eventually) disturb your bobber. "I don't think the boat is the problem here."

"Okay, how about this... One more fish, then we can go back." You finally look back at your scaley companion — who was still leaning against the edge of your tin boat with a lazy smile — and give him a resolute nod. "Promise."

"Sure," Ren casually reaches into the boat to pick and pluck at some of your live bait. "But you said that about the last three fish."

"This will be the last one. I swear."

"You... swear?" You try to ignore the way Ren swallows up one of your minnows as if you weren't using them for bait as he continues to speak, "Like... curse words? Humans sure are weird creatures."

As if realising his comment, Ren's ocean-blue eyes widen slightly and shift towards your form. "N-Not... Not you, though."

With a laugh, you playfully try to nudge him off of the boat. All it does is cause it to tip slightly, but Ren steadies it when you show signs of losing balance.

"Alright. One more fish, then?"

You nod and cast your attention back to your rod once more. You don't even notice the silence — nor Ren slipping away — until you suddenly feel a tug on your line and call out to your companion in excitement. "That was quick!"

Quickly reeling it in, you wonder what kind of fish you'd just caught — it's definitely stronger than you anticipated, given how the rod drastically bends and snaps at every movement from the fish. And just as you see the shadow from the murky depths get closer, the ripples get bigger and cause a stir underneath your tin boat. Standing up now, you try with all your might to reel it on board...

...Only for a mess of black hair to emerge from below and peer up at you with a smug look.

"Ren!"

"Looks like you got a big one."

"C'moooon." You practically whine, though you allow Ren to haul himself into your tiny boat and rest his head in your lap. You can still feel his body shake from underneath your touch, no doubt still laughing at his poor attempt at a joke. "This doesn't count."

A beat passes before your fishy companion responds. "...Hm? Fine then."

Another moment of silence follows before he slithers back into the water without another word. Half of you worries that you might've said something to offend him (there was still the tiniest hint of a language barrier between you two). Still, it ultimately leads to nothing as Ren soon emerges once more — only this time, he's hauling the biggest largemouth bass you'd ever seen into your boat.

"This good enough?" He looks at you with wide, blue eyes. "If not, I can probably find a sturgeon and—"

"It's bigger than my boat!"

"Is this what your kind calls... exaggeration? Because your boat is big enough even for me to—"

"—Arghh! It's getting water everywhere! Put it back!"

It was almost comical how Ren tossed the fish over his shoulder and back into the water without breaking eye contact with you.

Another wave of silence hits, yet neither of you seems to move or break the awkward staring contest you'd somehow started. It's then when you notice Ren's grin get bigger — most likely at your resignation and embarrassment — which causes you to fall back into your seat in defeat.

"Fine. Enough fishing for today. Let's head back." Busying yourself with the bucket of fish and tacklebox in front of you, you secure your gear and pack everything away. But it seems Ren had other plans, seeing as he took it upon himself to climb back into your boat and rest his arms on your legs. No longer able to move as freely, you have no choice but to indulge in his carefree whims.

"But you caught me. Aren't you going to bring me home too?"

"As much as I want to," Truly, you do. You've always wanted to show Ren the world outside of Lake Bluemoss. "There's no way I'm carrying you all the way down the mountain."

"You never know until you cry."

"Try." You correct him. "Until you try."

"Your kind sure are funny." Ren nuzzles himself closer. "Perhaps another time, then... Stay here tonight."

Your body pricks up at his words, and you spare a glance at the abandoned boathouse near the dock. Despite its rough and rugged exterior, you and Ren actually made it quite comfy. It had some of your old blankets and sheets thrown over one of the boats to make it comfortable to lounge in — alongside a giant empty tank that you and Ren filled with water for him to sit in as well. Despite the lack of human traction, the place still felt homey and well-loved.

"...I guess I could."

"Then what are we waiting shore?"

You had to roll your eyes at his attempt at a pun.

[pnutbutter-n-j-elyy]

Sunflower Summer | Pt3

Felix x Plus Size Fem! Reader

He's home for the summer; but what does three months together mean for you and your best friend?

🌻☀️🌻☀️🌻☀️🌻☀️🌻☀️🌻☀️🌻☀️🌻☀️🌻☀️🌻☀️🌻☀️

January

New Year’s had always been your least favorite time of the year. Maybe it was because of the pressure it put on you to make resolutions that you knew you’d never keep, or maybe it was the lingering thought that another year had gone by, and somehow, you were still the same.

While others celebrated new beginnings with fireworks and promises of a brighter future, you were more than content to let the night pass like any other. Just as you had done all the years before.

But this year felt different.

Felix had invited you to the annual New Year's Eve bonfire, a long-standing tradition in the small area of the town you guys resided in.

Everyone gathered by the beach, a fire crackling in the center as people reminisced about the past year and welcomed the new one. A lot of time the elementary, middle and high school students wrote their resolutions on paper and then threw them into the fire to burn in some symbolic gesture to complete whatever they wrote.

Your previous resolutions had always stayed in your head. Considering it was always the same resolution just phrased differently.

Lose weight. Drop the fat. Become three sizes smaller.

It had never worked, just gotten worse it seemd.

And eventually you just stopped making that resolution.

You hadn’t been to the bonfire in years- since before Felix had left for Korea. Back then, it was just the two of you and a few of your closest childhood friends, huddled under blankets and sharing jokes until the clock struck twelve. But now, the prospect of a larger crowd and the attention that came with being around Felix left a knot in your stomach.

You overthought your outfit to the point of nausea, and almost backed out of your plans.

"I promise, it’ll be fun," Felix had said earlier that afternoon, his warm smile so convincing that you found yourself agreeing despite your hesitation.

As the two of you walked along the sandy path toward the bonfire, the sound of laughter and faint music drifted through the air. You could see the glow of the fire in the distance, a gathering of familiar faces you hadn’t seen in years.

Faces the boy next to you hadn't seen in even longer. Felix walked beside you, his arm brushing against yours occasionally. It shot sparks all along your body. Every now and then, you caught him glancing at you, as if checking to make sure you were okay.

The moment you arrived, people greeted Felix with loud enthusiasm. Some were old friends; others were people who had grown up with him and were just as shocked as you had been when he became a famous idol, some were people who had come to know of his existence once he became famous.

You stood a little off to the side, allowing him to catch up while you observed the group. The fire was warm against the cool evening breeze, casting flickering shadows on the faces of those gathered around it.

Felix was laughing and smiling politely, and the glow of the large bonfire and the countless mini ones were highlighting his face magically.

Felix walked towards you and waved at you to join the group. You gladly made your way over, curious about the look he was giving you.

As you were about to step closer to be by the side of Felix, a man, slightly swaying on his feet with the unmistakable slur of too much alcohol, stumbled over to Felix. He gripped a bottle in his hand and he reeked of liquor. His face lit up in recognition, and you immediately felt a sense of discomfort creep up your spine.

"Hey, you’re that guy, right? The one my daughter’s always talkin’ about," he said, his voice loud enough to draw attention. He jabbed a finger in Felix’s direction, blinking in an exaggerated manner. "Lee… Lee something?"

Felix smiled politely, giving a small nod. "Yeah, Lee Felix."

"Yeah, yeah, that’s it! My daughter’s obsessed with you, man. She’s got posters and everything, you're her favorite, base or briar or something or another." the man continued, his eyes now darting to you. "Guess even you’ve got a type, huh?"

You froze, the implication in his words hitting you like a punch to the gut. You weren’t sure if it was the alcohol talking, but his gaze lingered on you with a smirk that made you want to disappear.

Felix’s expression shifted, his smile vanishing in an instant as his jaw tightened. "I think that’s enough, mate," he said, his voice calm but firm, stepping subtly in front of you as if shielding you from the man’s gaze.

You adjusted your shirt, covering up the little skin that had potential to show and adjusted your shorts.

This is embarrassing...

You blinked back the sting in your eyes.

The drunk man snorted, waving a dismissive hand. "No harm meant, mate. Just sayin’, didn’t expect someone like you with… someone like her." He waved his hand in a gesture that mimicked the shape of your body. And then he motioned to Felix who was much much skinnier than you.

Your heart dropped, and for a split second, you wished you hadn’t come. But before you could react, Felix took a step forward, his eyes narrowed. "I said that’s enough."

The man blinked, clearly taken aback by the sudden change in Felix’s tone, and muttered something under his breath before stumbling off into the crowd. You stood there, feeling small, your throat tightening as you fought the urge to shrink away from everyone. Felix turned to you, his eyes softening.

"You okay?" he asked gently, his hand finding your arm.

You nodded, even though you weren’t. "Yeah, I’m fine. Let’s- let’s go sit by the fire."

Felix gave you a look that said he didn’t quite believe you, but he didn’t push. Instead, he gently grabbed your wrist as he walked with you to the fire where a few of your childhood friends were seated, catching up on the year. You settled onto one of the logs circling the flames, the warmth from the fire offering some comfort.

The conversation flowed around you, stories of what everyone had been up to filling the space. Felix sat beside you, his presence grounding you, though you couldn’t shake the lingering feeling of embarrassment from the earlier encounter.

You inhaled the smell of the burning wood, and Felix's natural scent intermingled with his laundry detergent and deodorant. It calmed you slightly.

At some point, one of your old friends leaned over, giving you a playful grin. "I haven't seen you in forever Y/N. You’re looking good, baby girl. I should have taken my chance with you all those years ago," he teased, his voice light, but the flirtation overt. He had always been that way.

You laughed, missing his unashamed personality, though you could feel Felix tense beside you. You glanced at him wondering what was up, his jaw clenched just like it had been earlier. He stayed silent, but you could sense the shift in his mood.

The night wore on, and as the clock edged closer to midnight, the atmosphere became more relaxed. People laughed, shared drinks, and enjoyed the last moments of the year. You and Felix strayed from the fire towards the shore, the tension from earlier melting away into something else as you looked at the moon together.

As the countdown to midnight began, you noticed Felix inching closer to you. Your heartbeat quickly, but you were sure it was drowned out by the sound of everyone shouting out numbers. It was loud but your focus was solely on him as his arm almost pressed up fully against yours.

You turned and his eyes met yours, the flickering light of the distant fires reflecting in his gaze, and for a moment, everything else faded away.

The noise, the people, the awkwardness- it all dissolved, leaving just the two of you in your own bubble.

"Three, two, one… Happy New Year!" The crowd erupted, couple kissing, kids screaming, drinks being chugged, but you barely registered it as Felix leaned in, his hand gently cupping the side of your face. You didn't even have time for you to lose your breath or wonder if he was going to kiss you before his lips brushed your forehead in the softest, most tender kiss.

"Happy New Year, Y/N-ie," he whispered, his voice low and warm, the vibrations sending a wave of heat through your entire body.

You looked up at him, your heart racing, eyes zoning in on his freckles; but before you could say anything, someone called out for Felix, breaking the moment. He pulled away slightly, but the look in his eyes told you that something had shifted between the two of you, something unspoken but undeniable.

Later as you guys returned to sit with your friends, the fire crackling in front of you, you couldn’t help but wonder if maybe this year, things would be different.

The rest of the party blurred together. People mingled, the bonfire crackled and popped, and the cool ocean breeze carried the sound of distant fireworks across the water until the pitch black sky became a dark purple. It was beautiful, but your mind was somewhere else entirely, replaying that single moment- the brush of Felix’s lips against your forehead, the warmth of his touch, and the way his eyes had lingered on yours just a second too long. The way his lips had lingered a bit longer as well.

You tried to brush it off, telling yourself it didn’t mean anything. Maybe it was just the excitement of the night, the energy of a new year about to begin. But as the time ticked by, you couldn't shake the feeling that something between you and Felix had changed, even if neither of you had said it out loud.

Felix was by your side almost entirely the rest of the night, his presence a comforting constant, even when he was pulled away by old friends or fans who recognized him.

You noticed the way he always circled back to you, how his arm would brush against yours as he sat down again, his quiet smile lighting up the dark beach. Each time he returned, asking you every single time if you were still doing okay, you felt that same flutter in your chest, the one you tried so hard to ignore.

As the night became early morning, the crowd thinned, and only a few people remained around the fire, chatting and laughing quietly. The energy had mellowed, and you found yourself sitting beside Felix in a comfortable silence. You were wrapped in a blanket he had found for you earlier, the soft fabric doing little to calm the jittery warmth in your stomach.

Your eyes were starting to droop slightly, and the sunshine boy saw your sleepy state.

"Ready to head back?" Felix asked softly, turning to you with a gentle smile, and pushing some of your hair out of your sleepy eyes.

You nodded, though part of you wished the night didn’t have to end. Together, you stood and said goodbye to the few friends still gathered by the fire, offering hugs and waves before making your way back toward the path home.

The walk was peaceful, the beach quiet except for the occasional sound of the waves crashing against the shore and the typical animals. Lix walked beside you, close enough that your arms brushed with each and every step. Neither of you said anything, but the silence wasn’t awkward. It was comforting, filled with an unspoken understanding that you couldn’t quite put into words.

When you finally reached your house, the front porch light glowing dimly in the distance, Felix stopped at the foot of the driveway, turning to face you. His expression was unreadable, his eyes searching yours for something- though what, you weren’t entirely sure.

"This was nice," you said quietly, hugging the blanket tighter around your shoulders, as if it could somehow protect you from the emotions swirling in your chest.

"Yeah," Felix replied, his voice soft, almost tentative. "It was."

You shifted on your feet, unsure of what to say next. The night had been so strange, filled with moments that felt too big, too meaningful to just brush off. You wanted to ask him if he felt it too- if that kiss on the forehead had been more than just a friendly gesture. But the words caught in your throat, and before you could gather the courage, Felix spoke again.

"About what that guy said earlier," he began, his voice lower now, serious. "I know it bothered you. And I should’ve said something sooner, but… you don’t need to care what anyone thinks, Y/N. You know that, right?"

You blinked, the memory of the drunk man’s cruel words flashing through your mind. For a moment, you hadn’t wanted Felix to notice how much it hurt, how deeply those insecurities ran. But he always noticed, didn’t he?

"I know, it doesn't usually since I hear it so much." you whispered, though the weight of those words still pressed against your chest. "It’s just… hard sometimes."

Felix nodded, his expression softening. "I get that. But…you’re beautiful, Y/N. In every way. And anyone who doesn’t see that is an idiot."

The sincerity in his voice caught you off guard, your heart pounding as you met his gaze. There was something in the way he looked at you- something you hadn’t seen before, or maybe something you hadn’t let yourself notice.

"Felix, I-"

But before you could finish, he stepped closer, his hand reaching out to gently take yours. His touch was warm, his fingers intertwining with yours as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

"Y/N." You looked up at him, his face serious.

Your heart thumped in your chest, and your mind raced at all the possibilities of what he could possibly be preparing to say.

What if...

What if..

What if-

"I think I left my house key in my pajama pants."

You blinked and looked down at the salmon-colored shorts he was wearing.

"Oh...oh. Um...do you want me to...uh...are your parents up?"

"They went with my sisters to our relatives."

"Ahh...ah." You scratched your neck and Felix looked at you sheepishly. "You know you're always welcomed over at my house, so why don't you just stay the night?" Felix nodded, a smile on his face as you headed into the house.

You guys kicked off your shoes and made your way to the upper floor.

"I know that this is kind of gross but I don't feel like showering. I'm exhausted. I'll just have to wash my sheets tomorrow you mumbled, as you grabbed an extra toothbrush for Felix. "You can shower if you'd like-"

"No, I'm exhausted as well, it's been a long day." He rested his chin on your shoulder and looked at you in the reflection of your medicine cabinet.

Your heart was nearly about to explode when Felix lifted his head up. "I feel bad about getting your brother's sheets dirty with the campfire and salt water scent though..."

And sun. Felix smelled like sunshine...

"It's fine...I could wash them. Or you can just sleep in my bed." You felt your face warm at the suggestion, willing yourself to look at the toothpaste coming out of the tube. Willingly yourself to not make that suggestion awkward.

"That sounds fine-" His voice was slightly muffled as he scrubbed away at his teeth. He spit out. "Just like when we were kids and had our sleepovers."

You nodded and you guys opted to change out of your clothes, even if it meant more laundry.

You climbed into your bed, and was expecting Felix to place himself at the complete opposite side of the mattress, but rather he laid directly next to you, his chest facing your back.

You guys laid in silence for a second until he spoke.

"I didn't realize how much I missed you." His voice was almost inaudible, and you felt a knot form in your throat.

"I've missed you. A lot." You felt him shift forward slightly, and you tensed instinctively.

"Are you glad I'm home?"

"Elated."

You guys laid in silence once more, your eyes slowly falling more and more, until his voice rung again.

"Let’s make a resolution," he said softly, his voice deep and extremely weighted with the prospect of sleep. "This year...let’s not hold back anymore. No more pretending that things will stay the same when they won't. They'll change if we at least try to change them."

You turned to him, the quiet intensity in his sleepy eyes making it hard to think straight. You could feel the weight of what he was saying- the weight of everything that had gone unspoken between you.

"Okay," you whispered.

Felix’s lips curved into a small smile, the kind that made your heart race. And then, with a tenderness that made your chest ache, he leaned towards you and pressed another kiss to your forehead- soft and lingering, like a promise of something more.

When he pulled back, he looked exhausted but content. "Happy New Year, Y/N."

"Happy New Year, Felix," you yawned.

This year things were going to be different.

You didn't know if Felix held the same meaning in the resolution as you did.

Not holding back on your growing feelings.

That growing love.

But even so you were completely committed to making that resolution a reality.

No doubt about.

🌻☀️🌻☀️🌻☀️🌻☀️🌻☀️🌻☀️🌻☀️🌻☀️🌻☀️🌻☀️🌻☀️

@abovenyx @wolfs-archive @oddracha

@iyeeeverydee @parisanmorovati @seungmincenteric

@panbish-1209 @fxiry-vtt @sseawavee

@shuporanporang @amarecerasus @softkisshyunjin

@whoa-jo @meanergreener @rikibun

@ayyonoona @shinywombatcrusade @y4yayael

@skzstan12345 @mariteez @allys-reads

@jazziwritesthings @skzstannie @yongbokkiesworld

@kkkeopi @neverendingstay @moony-9

@minsungsthirdwheel @everlastingspring143 @joyofbebbanburg

@leezanetheofficial @tr-mha-fan @kayleefriedchicken

🌻☀️🌻☀️🌻☀️🌻☀️🌻☀️🌻☀️🌻☀️🌻☀️🌻☀️🌻☀️🌻☀️

[neptunes-sol-angel]

Alright guys! I finally got that tingly feeling that I should do this kind of love reading. I still didn't want to make this a future spouse reading because I honestly overthink the concept, like "um divorces happen!" or some people just don't believe in marriage, but I thought I'd do something adorable and Christmas related. I hope that you guys enjoy!

Paid Readings | Patreon | Tip Jar

Pile One🎄

Their letter to Santa

Dear Santa, For so long I've been in the darkness, alone with the glass pieces of my heart, thinking that it's better this way for me to be on own. I don't believe in fairy tales anymore and my ability to imagine a world where I can be in love with someone and in that same way be loved back. My mind is splintered to where I flinch the minute someone to me gets close or when they mention a promise, that I without a doubt know they won't keep. Socially, I feel numb, meeting allegedly new people, seems to be a broken record in different physiques. If you could grant me any present in the world, would you change my definition of what I know to be love? Falling away from the stranger(s) that used to be who I knew from head to toe, has damaged my beliefs that I'm worthy of something more. And should you succeed in bringing my love, may they be my most divine contradiction in my life. My love will be someone new, yet possess familiarty in which I'll take pleasure in spending the rest of my lifetime finding all of the ways that we just understand each other. The sound of their voice and the words that they speak will be the fire that warms instead of scorching me. They'll be my rock that I won't have to tip toe around. Right now, I ask for their forgiveness for the person that I am right now, but for every tear that I currently shed to release the pain of my troubles in romance, builds my strength to be the person that really loves again, and the confidence to give my all despite my mistakes in giving it to the wrong people. Don't let my reserved aura fool you, deep down, I'm a hopeless romantic, that will work hard to find any and every single way to give you the world to prove the depth of my feelings for you. The same way that I'm learning my lessons, you are too, we both share that agony of why this has to hurt so much, but it's the bitter that goes along with the sweet to lead us to each other in the end.

Your Christmas Traditions:

Life with your partner could already be luxurious, meaning they gift you with presents on a regular basis that are both as an expression of love and desire to get the things that you want, so Christmas, traditionally, will feel like a normal day. What makes it stand out to you guys as a couple is how you guys seem to always unlock a new level of intimacy around this time of the year. For you or them, Christmas could make some not so good feelings resurface and put someone in a mood. Whatever that may trigger this, it usually leads to a peaceful resolution that doesn't just prolong the tension for another day. It's like getting to the root of the issue that'll eventually lead you and your partner to a place of comfort, understanding, and confirmation that this relationship isn't based on surface level things.

Pile Two 🎄

Their Letter to Santa:

Dear Santa, There's this ethereal figure in my dreams that I keep seeing. Without a doubt, I know that this is my person. And maybe it's not realistic to ask for you to make the time go faster for us to encounter each other in real life, but I really want answers, I'm craving to know this person. Their face alone, is enough to put me into hypnosis. Not knowing what their voice sounds like, ignites my obsession. I've never been a believer of the supernatural, or even a big fan of religion, but this sensation of the person of my dreams that makes me desire to stay asleep, has to be an indication that we're spiritually connected. I know this person doesn't say a word in both their presence of visions in day and night, but I have this clawing feeling that you're what home feels like. To the lover of my fantasies, I  know you spiritually, but emotionally, with you, I'll finally have someone that doesn't think my expression of feeling is a foreign language. I could talk to you for hours without getting bored and your nature in every capacity makes me feel that you're out of this world with a love that I'm determined to study and reciprocate. I'm already amazed by how gorgeous you are but indubitably I know I'll be stunned everytime I'm by your side watching you prove to me that magic on Earth is real. You're the breathing proof of it and I can't help but be adored by you and the way that you perceive making the most out of the challenges that you face and conquer.

Your Christmas Traditions:

You and your life partner BREATHE for Christmas. Valentine's day may be special but Christmas is the time that you guys will be all over each other. You guys could go all out this holiday, by buying and wearing matching pajamas, playing board games with each other, watching marathons of Christmas themed movies, maybe you guys have a specific drink like hot chocolate, egg nog, or cookies that you love to stock up on. You guys could also be the type to take a vacation around this time by renting out a cabin, or taking a trip to Disney World. This is normal for you guys and you aren't aware of this jubilant vibe that you have together but it makes others wanting to share the joy you have. Your public presence as a couple during Christmas is the type that will make a person want to use you guys as their mood board or inspiration to daydream about the love that that they'd kill to have. You guys are the power couple in terms of playfulness, affection, and how unique you guys embody your partnership. You could also experience people asking you for advice for how to liven up their own relationships. You guys are just that cute with each other.

Pile Three 🎄

Their Letter to Santa:

Dear Santa, I have a good feeling that the person that I will view as my everything is currently contemplating if there's something that they should change about themselves, but do me this favor homie and give my sweet firecracker this message. You. Yeah you. You know who you are. You are a boss! Walking royalty in this world that's meant to take up space, of course there are gonna be some jerks that want to dim your light, but the people who can't handle how bona-fide and wealthy your aura is, are people who are uncomfortable with the fact that they don't possess the tools to handle the blessing that you are. You were never asking for too much and don't let the grinch or scrooge convince you that you aren't enough. Believe me, I wish that fate would allow me to show up in your life right now, but you're meant to learn how precious your attributes you are. You're a damsel that can save yourself, who is meant to climb into power and achieve many things. I'm currently healing my tendencies of being codependent so that I don't distract you from your prosperity or project my insecurities onto you and make you think that it's you, it's not. Be patient, but don't get rid of how bold you are love or choose sides in how you're capable of being silly and someone with authority. Your strength isn't in your silence, but in your intelligence and maturity to express to others your feelings and what your needs are. You'll always be on top, even on days where you feel like you're at rock bottom. Keep pushing, things will make sense soon. You won't just find me in your happily ever after, you'll find your soul tribe too. And we will ALL match your energy. Trust me. Everything that you think is complicated about you is why we're grateful for you.

Your Christmas Traditions:

You and your life partner share a common tragedy and belief. You guys may have experienced toxicity in your family that inspires the both of you to do things differently with your own family. Christmas time is pivotal for you as a couple, because it influences you to reflect but also to take action on how well you guys do as a household. Your Christmas Traditions could be about trying your best to make sure that there's peace, openess, but most importantly your presence if guys have children together. You could go all out with making sure that they have the best presents, that they have the best indication that they're safe with you guys as parents, and that you make the most pleasant and fun memories that will symbolize how much that not just you and your life partner love each other but making sure that your children know how much they're loved by you.

[itsnothingofinterest]

Oh wow so my hero is ending in five chapters, any idea what those five chapters will be? We know we have that new stranger and the todoroki household to deal with so what else could they cover?

Well there’s obviously a lot to go over, but I expect some things (todofam) to get a lot more focus and page space than others (Gentle and Nagant) so to focus my answers on, well, what I expect to be the focus:

One chapter (426) will be, as I think we all can tell, the Todoroki resolution. Talked about my expectations/ worries for that here.

Next (427) will probably feature Uraraka & whatever happened to Toga in some way. Although since Hori dosn't always treat her the best (I mean I do think her villain fight was the best, but I don’t believe that was on purpose), I wouldn't be surprised if her chapter shares page time with other student plot lines, whatever happened to Spinner and/or the heteromorph plotline, and other miscellaneous stuff like Gentle getting released from prison.

Mystery person I'll bet will probably actually be two chapters (428 & 429): a) because it's Midoriya's resolution and b) because it'd naturally need more time for that; introducing a new character and all, bit of backstory to explain why they were tied up in some house and had to cut themselves loose with with sissors. Especially if it goes the way I except; mystery guy's a poor jaded victim-villain on their way to becoming the next Tomura, but Deku will save them and it'll be presented as though that means society is now improved such that it won't fail any more future Tenko Shimuras. ...Even though a) that's a hard sell after murdering Tenko Shimura in the arc that was specifically representing how thing will go from now on and b) that idea entirely misses the point of Tenko Shimura's story. But even giving this two dedicated chapters, that's the best Deku can really do so...guess you've still just got to hope a hero's around to save you. If not; sucks to suck, good luck with villainy and/or dying.

And uh, last chapter (430 if all our math is right) will probably just be your standard fare “5 or so years later" chapter about everyone as pro heroes. Everything is great and fine and so much better for no real reason and they'll all live happily ever after for anyone still alive; The End.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Although if I may be spiteful; one thing I hope doesn’t get touched on is the quirk singularity doomsday plot line. Because as is, it still looks like the best case is for humanity to become an endangered species as soon as around the time of Class 1A’s eventual retirement (presumably their last decade or two spent dealing with panic over that). All because hero society refused to look where things are bad or inconvenient; and just when a solution, a treatment & cure to this condition was available to them anyway…Deku smashed it into dust because that’s the only way the little All Might clone could conceive of to beat the big bad villain.

And again, I know this is spiteful, but I rather like the idea of Deku murdering Tomura having such a serious consequence.

[doomsdaybby]

chapter one: pre-soak. laundromat!steve au x fem!reader mini series. you can find the blurb here 🫶🏻

content/warnings: strangers to lovers, barely any plot (no twists or turns, just watch two cuties fall in love), no use of y/n, fluff, mutual pining, steve is such a sweetheart, soft!steve 🥹, steve being a lovesick puppy, reader is just a little mean, jealous!steve at points, ronance bc I love them, eventual smut (not this chapter), she/her pronouns and physical female descriptions used for reader character throughout.

word count: 2.9k

I do not proofread my work, so please be forgiving of any mistakes.

Suds N’ Sparks Laundromat. Spring 1989.

Steve Harrington works round the clock shifts for exactly four dollars an hour to make ends meet. From sunrise to sunset, his life was surrounded by flickering yellow lights (if you looked closely enough you could see the moths that had scuttled too close to the hot bulbs), emptied pockets of spilled quarters on countertops and the rhythmic mind-numbing rumble of washing machines that soon became white noise. 

Steve had already run through exactly eight job positions in the last four years. Don’t ask him how, he seems to never make it stick. The conclusion drew to him a while back that he was the world’s biggest fuck up, and that’s the way it was supposed to be. 

It wasn't all bad, he worked alone, the regulars were nice enough and the paycheck was on the surprisingly sunny side compared to Scoops Ahoy, Family Video, camp counseling, that one busboy position that lasted five minutes, and the paperboy, and… you get the point. 

It was working well enough for him right now, covering the rent and bills for his and Robin’s shared apartment, and of course gas money, whilst saving him a little extra on the side for whatever his heart desired, and that was all he could ask for. Besides, there weren't many openings left in Hawkins for him to fall back on, almost every business manager the town had on offer had mindlessly sifted through Steve Harrington’s glistening -eye roll- resume since the fall of 1985 at one point or another.

He had to somehow make this one last longer than 8 months, his new year's resolution, or else Steve would surely have to pack up his shit and leave. 

Though for right now, the laundromat put an undetermined stop in the infinite revolving door that was his employment track record, and it felt like a small sigh of relief that the customers actually seemed to like him. A lot. 

Mrs Fletcher, who insisted on Steve calling her by her first name Helen (he never did), brought in exactly two baskets of laundry at precisely 5pm every Friday evening. Not a minute early, not a second late. Mrs Fletcher was a single woman in her mid to late 50’s, give or take, and was not resistant to the irresistible Harrington charm, despite Steve never uttering a single flirtatious syllable in her direction. 

He was woefully made aware that she was single because she made an intentional point to mention it every. single. week. Divorced, husband left her in a bunch of debt yada yada blah blah. Whatever. You would think that he was joking, a tad on the dramatic side maybe, but Helen managed to slip it in there at one point or another during each conversation.

She actually lived on Maple Street, only a couple houses down from the Wheeler’s. Steve remembers her kind waves and cheery ‘Hello’s’ to him and Nancy during their highschool sweetheart days. But since word most certainly got around in Hawkins, once Jonathon Byers took his place linked hand in hand with his past burning flame, it wasn't difficult to put two and two together that the pair had split. So once Steve appeared at the closest local laundromat, Helen Fletcher was positively thrilled. 

Steve was in the thick of his routinely one-sided chat with his admirer, elbows resting spread east and west on the counter and arms stretched out in front of him in closed palms, eyes beginning to glaze over since having swapped her one dollar note for four quarters almost twenty minutes ago. Though the shrill ting of the doorbell thankfully pulled him from the jumping record that were his strained, yet still polite, ‘uh huh’-s and ‘oh really’-s. 

Robin stumbled through the door, a pull-string hamper hanging heavy by the crook of her elbow, Nancy linked snugly in the other. They both cheesed wide at Steve’s unfortunate current predicament, seemingly unaware of the disapproving grumbles and wary eyes of the few balding middle-aged men slouched on the wooden chairs opposite the rowdy dryers, newspapers held up to their brows. 

Though they continued with grace, still very much knitted as one strutting hip to hip and sharing an all too knowing glance, one that only read trouble and hours of persistent teasing that Steve was bitterly well acquainted with. Robin slings the hamper onto the counter that sat at the very back wall with a leaded thud, requesting smaller change in favor of a one dollar bill outstretched in her hand, much like her new shoulder buddy, who is now non-discretely grumbling behind her teeth. 

Robin notices, and turns to flash the older woman a pearly ear-to-ear grin, blinking her eyes as if to say ‘need something?’. Helen glowered, lips curled up in clear aggravation. Nancy disguises a poorly hidden grin behind a wipe of her mouth, and Robin’s off-putting aura worked its well-oiled charm as Mrs Fletcher went about her business. Seven days of rest, and Steve felt like he could breathe again. At least she took the hint? 

“We did laundry two days ago” Steve looks disappointed, jaw falling somewhat slack. 

“You’re so right. But, uhm, we had a problem” Robin’s lips downturn with a shred of guilt, albeit short lived, her left eye creasing under the lower lash in a semi-squint.

“Problem? What problem?”

Nancy’s cheeks are sucked in, rows of teeth biting the inside to stifle her giggling, accentuating her structured features. Though Steve couldn’t put his finger on what was so funny. 

“We tried to make dinner. Dinner involved red wine. We drank some of it, it was good, and then we kindaspilledsaidredwineverywhere” She finished in a hurry at the conclusion, speaking incoherently from the corner of her mouth.

Now the ceaseless snickering made sense. They were not drunk by any means, but a little too merry and conversing an octave too high for the closing curtain of Steve’s shift. Ten hours of staring at the same four plant-lined poorly painted carolina blue walls was enough to make anyone go stir crazy. Though in the warmer months the breeze was admittedly very refreshing with the door wedged open, so that was a perk. 

Steve tips out a hand to take the bag from Robin with a sigh, a deepening crease in his brow and not enough confidence in his chest to watch the two flounder and fidget with the washing machines. 

“You’re not angry?” Nancy taunts, almost expectant, with rounded eyes and fingers now laced with Robin’s as they turn to follow Steve to the large island of cheap wood and steel legs that stood point blank in the middle of the room, the swirling barrels of damp and drying laundry surrounding it. 

“Ask me again tomorrow” he responds with an exhausted huff, a hint of a scoff. Steve empties out the soiled linens onto the countertop, surveying each garment to assess the damage. 

“Jesus, did you guys rob the liquor store?” 

Surely they had used more than one, maybe even more than two bottles of wine for whatever they decided promoted them to culinary artists for the evening. More snickering, though they both prodded and knocked one another at the hip. If Steve rolled his eyes any harder they would spin out of his head.

So Steve guided Robin and Nancy to the chairs opposite where he was shoving clothing one by one into the drum of the washing machine, eyeing them warily like toddlers in a playpen, wishing that they would quieten down before the disgruntled muttering of the elderly man at the other end of their row of chairs transitioned into uncensored hate speech. 

Steve resorts to mumbling to himself about how they were going to eventually get him in big trouble having to defend them from their own big mouths, and the potential consequences of said unfiltered big mouths, one day or another. He reaches into the bottom of the hamper to pull out a mauve coloured table cloth, that was now three quarters a giant violet stain. 

Steve is too tired for a Friday evening and he wished that the last forty-five minutes of his shift would wrap up as swiftly as it was for his two hysterical friends to fuck up a brand new table cloth. He grasps the material edge to edge in his fists, obscuring his view as he begins to walk forwards, ignoring the familiar ting-ing of the small bell above the janky door, as Robin and Nancy exchanged grimaces and mocking chastising in voices that were supposed to resemble Steve’s scoldings. 

Though Steve doesn’t quite make it to the washer, instead crashing chest first into your towering and, for lack thereof a better word, foreboding laundry basket, thus by default, you. Your walkman clatters to the black and white tiled floor, Fleetwood Mac cassette striking loose to slide under an adjacent tumble-dryer with a grainy swish. The headphones dislodge from the plug-in, now hanging lopsided from your ears as your ass smacks to the ground, a dull painful shockwave radiating up your tailbone. 

“Fuck!” a curse exclaimed in unison, and Steve is already hauling himself up off the floor, “Watch where you’re fuc-” a helping hand in front of your face before you can even finish your sentence, teeth clacking shut in silence at the unexpected assistance. 

“Could say the same to you” Steve replied, back twinging as he lugs you up off the floor, “Sorry, it’s been a long day and-” he looks at you properly then, and absentmindedly squeezes your hand in kindness. You watch him expectantly, dusting off your flared jeans with your free hand, wincing something awful as you cup your lower back. 

“Shit, shit” He starts quickly, eyes growing partly wide with urgence, forgetting that you were about to rip him a new asshole. “Are you okay?” his brows pinch to mirror yours, gaze flicking in a hurry from the pained expression on your face to the palm nursing right above your tailbone. It was genuine, his concern, you can hear it in his buttery tone. 

“No,” you respond in a way that delivered meaner than you intended, before saying a little kinder, “That really fucking hurt”. You release a breath of a laugh, barely there but it could still be heard whilst Steve steadies you, hands still firmly clasped together. He’s warm, maybe too warm, skin soft and his hands are much larger than your own. 

“Hey, didn’t you work at that ice cream place a couple years ago? At the mall? Obviously before it burned down and everything” You ask, eyes curious and voice blanketed in familiarity. Steve blinks at you, blindsided by how the now setting sun reflects in your gentle glassy stare, and you realize that you’re still holding hands. 

“You flirted with me once, desperation must be your thing” you continued with a small chuckle when he didn't answer, a jab at yourself rather than him, the previous question more rhetorical and an obvious nose-dive attempt of a dialogue starter. 

You release him lightly, and Steve becomes aware a little late when you eye him warily, brows pulling together in an uneasy crease, slightly taken aback by his silence. The patch of stillness was awkward, though it gave you a moment to survey him. 

“He’s not much of a ladies man anymore” Robin chimes in with a jump from her seat, the saving grace to the now painfully uncomfortable atmosphere. Steve runs a hand down his face, partially catching his lower lids. Please, God, if you’re listening, just fucking kill me, he thought to himself.

You hum, and Steve’s cheeks dust the rosiest shade of pink when you give him a once over, though you’re leaning a little away from him now. His blue green long sleeved is bunched up to make a three quarter length, though his left has slipped down to his wrist now. Two shiny metal buttons are undone, a sliver of a white undershirt peeking through at the collar. There’s a faded spot of spilt laundry detergent splashed right where his heart sits. 

Robin is never going to let him forget this moment for the rest of his life. 

Steve was a very handsome guy, you couldn’t deny that. You even thought he was pretty cute the few times he served you raspberry ripple ice cream with sprinkles on top. The sailor outfit was a nice touch, though he clearly never got much action. You were lucky enough to audience some of his failed pick-up lines back then. Poor thing, his ego must have been so battered and bruised. 

Your mouth curls at the corner fondly, “Uh, thankyou, by the way. For helping me up”. 

“I should have watched where I was fucking going” Steve says, finishing off your earlier snipped jab, eyebrows hitting his hairline and dusting his hands off on his jeans. He dips his face away, but you can see the rippling of smile lines that adorn his cheeks. 

“And yeah, yeah I worked at Scoops. You from around here?” Desperate to change the subject, the tips of his ears were flaring up. The regular A/C now didn’t feel like enough, he was hot with embarrassment. You're beginning to pick up the dropped laundry now with Nancy and Robin’s help, after setting your lonely headphones and busted walkman onto the counter. Steve also resumed his previous task. 

“I’m from Roanoke, you know, just outside Fort Wayne?” Steve nods, still focused on the wine-stained linens. You continue, “My Dad lives out here, so I've been back and forth, more so the last couple years since I left high school”. Steve makes a mental note, no wonder he can’t quite place you.

“When’d you graduate?” he asks, and Robin winces though she doesn’t really know why. Steve glances up from Nancy’s soft blouse in his hands, running the fabric through his fingertips as he watches you.

“‘82” your nose wrinkles, quickly darting a pair of red underwear into the machine next to Steve. He pretends that he didn’t notice. You were older, even if it was just a couple years. Steve liked that. 

“Why move out to Hawkins?” Nancy invades with interest, though you welcome the extra input with grace. It had been a while since anyone had shown this much interest in you. Your lips twist faintly in contemplation, not wanting to overshare whilst seeking their prolonged attention for as long as you could have it. Greedy, really. But it felt nice, normal. 

“Change of pace. I like it here” you answer her question with honesty, which was accepted for what it was. Though none of them really understood why you would like Hawkins, almost everyone in the small town wanted to get out of there as fast as humanly possible. 

Steve Harrington stayed later that shift, the extent of his fatigue and burning desire to collapse in bed numbed by this new infatuation. Maybe the reminder of having the weekend off was enough to ice the burn. You shared enough but too much considering the three before you were strangers, though not even an hour with them and you felt like you had known them for years. 

You spoke mostly with Robin and Nancy, Steve chiming in here and there. His gaze was either trained on you or his fidgeting fingers the entire time it took for your laundry to wash and dry. The girls were giggling, and he managed to get a good look at how your under-eyes crinkle when you smiled, the inattentive purse of your lips when you just sat and listened, specks of mascara dusting underneath your lashes where you had been clumsy. 

This might become a problem, he thought. 

“See you around, sparky” You wave once your now pristine laundry was folded into the basket a whole ninety minutes after your crash to the floor, a natural charm laced in the flash of a closed mouth smile, a cordial wave to your new friendly acquaintances. Steve felt the air settle once you left, he blinked, his heart had skipped a couple beats. You’d forgotten your tape, your walkman, and your headphones. 

Steve raises a hand from the counter, fingers twiddling kindly in your direction. The upturn of his mouth is completely unfeigned, and it makes his stomach twist and his legs feel unsteady.

Robin and Steve turn to look at eachother, hands on his hips and a couple beads of sweat stippling his hairline. She’s smiling, an evil thing with no malice behind it. Nancy's lower jaw is sitting loose, her lips parted, watching Steve as if the stars are aligning before her very eyes.

“Robs,” he deadpans, a warning. “Please. Don’t say anything” he feels the blood rushing to his cheeks, rubbing the back of his neck with clammy fingers. 

Nancy and Robin crook their necks to peer at each other, Nancy’s bottom lip is firmly tucked into her top row of teeth, a grin spreading wide. Robin’s mouth is purely hanging open in amazement, and Steve braced himself for what was to come. 

They both inhale and Steve screws his eyes closed with a steady inhale through the nose. Reels of kissing noises are thrown his way, the two women’s puckered lips and incessant snorting makes Steve want to crawl out of his skin. He can’t hear whatever raised-pitched fun they’re making of him, drowning it out as much as he is able whilst fishing the car keys from his pocket. Another perk of the job, considering the laundromat was twenty-four hours, he didn’t have to close. 

“You guys are assholes” Steve remarks, but the glimmer of a smirk remains just the same.

thankyou for reading this if you made it to the end! 🫶🏻 pls reblog & comment if you like this! I haven’t written fully like this in a good while so i’m feeling pretty anxious. much love x

dividers by @inklore 🩷

[goodnitedrdead]

god only knows

Horacio Carrillo x reader

Summary: who would've thought his ex-wife would ask God to send Horacio an angel? To fill the space she couldn't fill, and to do what Horacio wouldn't even do for himself.

Word Count: 1.1k

Warnings: Divorce. Horacio being head over heels for reader. Fluff. Love. All that fun stuff.

Author's Note: quick little something I wrote before bed because I rly miss my favorite soldier and because I needed a break from school. Might make sense, might not. I did state that one of my new years resolutions was to write at least one piece of writing for each month so I am doing this before the month ends. Mistakes and errors are all my own, I didn't have time to check it. Let me know what you think :3

Composed. Collected. Calm. That’s what made Horacio an excellent soldier and an even better Colonel. Ever since his training days at the academy, he was an exemplary student. A promising star who was meant to be a leader. 

And a leader he became.

He’d set the tempo, and everyone else would follow the rhythm of his steps. His family talked wonders of the honorable man he became, to anyone who would listen. It was no surprise that the women were fawning over him, and much to his family’s constant pestering of finding the perfect wife, he found Juliana. 

Together, they found a mutual and tranquil love. Maybe the kind that develops over time, but certainly not one to last forever. 

If Horacio were to match Juliana to an animal, he’d say she was a doe. Skittish, gentle, docile. She was a good wife to him and always fulfilled her duties. She’d have three meals a day ready for the family. She’d stay home and focus on the children. She’d be devoted to her husband forever. 

Just as tradition states.

Horacio was to fulfill his duties as a husband too. He’d go to work, dedicate most of his time to it not only because he wanted the best for his country, but he wanted a safe place for his children to grow. He’d come back home and sometimes have dinner with his family. He’d be devoted to his wife forever.

Just as tradition states.

Tradition didn’t talk about divorce. Tradition didn’t talk about intruders and third parties shaking the very core of an honorable man’s beliefs.

Tradition never changes.

Tradition was broken when Julianna eventually got tired of Horacio’s lifestyle. It was broken when fear crept into their home, and found a host to latch on to. Fear was deeply rooted in Julianna’s heart from one minute to the next; fearing that every day that passed would be their last with Escobar on the run.

She went against her duties and beliefs and did what she saw fit. Bags packed, a new home far from Medellin, and divorce papers were her top three priorities for a few weeks. Eventually, she did the first two, but she couldn’t bring herself to give the papers to Horacio herself. She prayed, day and night, for guidance on what she should do but at the end of the day, her and her children’s safety were her number one priority. Horacio would be able to fend for himself. 

That never stopped her from reciting a quick prayer for him every night before bed. As she found herself far away from Medellin and Horacio, she’d pray for the safety of her ex-husband. After all, she still had a fondness for him and he was the father of her children. She shared many years and a home with him, it was someone she couldn’t just forget about overnight. 

She prayed to God to send Archangel Michael and his soldiers to watch over and protect Horacio from harm. Whether it may be from self-harm or others, she prayed for his safety. Send him your fiercest angel, the most courageous and brave one to keep him from harm’s way.

Horacio never knew this, for if he had he would’ve thanked Juliana for her wishes and prayers. Because if it wouldn’t have been for her, he wouldn’t have found you. 

You came into his life like a goddamn lightning bolt. He’d feel you in the air, the startling feeling jolting him as soon as you’d walk into the room. Unapologetically yourself and nothing else. You’d make a friend of anyone that crossed your path, but he’d also seen the rage within you. If there was someone he’d fear, it would be you. 

You were quick on your feet, and somehow quicker with your gun. He wasn’t sure why the DEA didn’t make you a sniper, but you were awfully good at your job. And yet, you were unapologetically gentle. You wouldn’t think twice about taking a bullet for him, and it made him laugh at times. A woman of your stature stepping in front of him, to protect him from harm’s way. A woman who was breaking tradition day by day and night by night. You weren’t quite like anything he’s ever seen before, and he loved that about you.

He loved how, despite igniting fear into even his soldiers’ minds and hearts, you wouldn’t budge. He could yell and scream and bark orders at you and you’d remain with the most serene energy he’s ever seen. Your eyes fixed on him, the storm brewing within you. Horacio wasn’t scared of many things, but he was scared of you.

How is it that you, someone so tender yet menacing, could have that balance within? He was scared of the way you would keep your innocence despite the amount of deaths and blood you’ve seen this city shed at the hands of Pablo Escobar. The way a smile would come so easy to you. The way a laugh was so easy to coax out of you. He was absolutely enamored by your very being.

Something he had never truly quite felt.

The time came when he lost everything he ever thought he was. Horacio started to lose his composure. He’d start to notice the way his heart would threaten to jump out at the sight of you. The way his pulse would quicken by just being by your side. The way his mind would seem to forget about every word to ever exist when you were speaking to him.

He started to notice how clumsy he would unwillingly become. How he’d stumble over his words when you were in the room. How his hands would betray him and drop the items they were carrying, because it would somehow elicit a giggle out of you. How he’d blush whenever you focused on him, as if he was the only person in the world that mattered.

Tradition was never supposed to change, right?

Yet you continued to prove that you didn’t care what tradition said. You approached Horacio first. You asked him out first. You kissed him first. You weren’t worried about what anyone else would think. You didn’t even care about what Horacio would think. 

It’s not like he never wanted to start anything, he was just too busy being consumed by your presence. You had a light within you that was blinding, but all Horacio wanted to do was look at you even if that meant he’d lose his senses for the rest of his life. 

It was only when you became a couple that he realized you were the protector. No matter how much he tried, you were always one step ahead of him. Ready to attack at the slightest moment anyone got too close to him. Ready to give your life up for him. 

Ready to fill his life with the most pure and sincere love he’d ever felt. 

It was as if God himself picked you to be placed on his path. 

[chatonarya]

Some thoughts on Cliffheart oprec2.

Continuing off my previous musings about the Silverash siblings' relationships post-RS, I have some new thoughts with Ensia's second oprec. As I began to mull over what class Ensia Alter could potentially be, I realized how interesting it is how the Silverashes are all trailblazers and explorers in their own right, all heirs of the legacy handed down to them from not just Olafur but his father before him.

Ensia's second oprec really puts into perspective the final line from Enya's module: "The children of Clan Silverash each walk their paths."

Yet Ensia's oprec also implies that, not unlike Gnosis's talent "Two Paths, One Goal," the siblings may walk different paths, but their destination is the same.

This is because, much as I said earlier, Enciodes and Enya both carry Kjerag in their hearts and truly care for and desire the best for it, even if they disagree on the method. And because they both have Kjerag in mind, they can understand each other despite their disagreements.

It also impresses me how much this oprec emphasizes how much Ensia has grown as a person. Back in "Letter" and BI, she always struck me as youthfully naive: yet now, three years since BI, it's clear that she's matured with experience and understands both the world around her and her siblings' relationship much better. My heart both ached and warmed as she laid out how much she actually understands what's going on in both of their minds. And thus, her belief that they will one day get along persists.

And now, rather than her desire being a simple, happy-go-lucky, "We can all get along like a happy family again just as we used to," it feels as if now she's saying, "You both understand each other's choices and each other's paths, and you still care about each other, so you can still sit down together." It feels like rather than Ensia trying to make things "exactly as they once were", she wants them to acknowledge the unspoken between them and still find enough common ground to be able to share a table. Rather than clinging to the old ways she remembers, she realizes they won't return, but that a new way is still possible.

Ensia doesn't know that her siblings have sat down together, and for the first time in a decade, spoken to each other exactly like siblings would--but maybe she feels it somewhere in her heart.

Maybe she can feel that as long as she keeps believing, things will eventually change.

I wonder just how her siblings will react to discover she's essentially become an ambassador... I'm sure they'll be so proud of her.

As a final point (for now at least), I think more than ever we will see the resolution of the siblings' conflict in Kjerag 3. The writing is clearly foreshadowing and building up to it. Similar to the conflict between Silence and Saria in the Rhine Lab storyline that was resolved in Lone Trail, I hope it will be resolved with the same elegance and aplomb the rest of the Kjerag storyline has had (which is something I may actually talk about later). I, for one, am perfectly content to wait for HG to cook the third installment if it means the same excellent quality as RS and these past three oprecs (Gnosis, Kjera, and Cliffheart).

[queer-ragnelle]

I read for spoilers for The Bright Sword, it sounded self indulgent -- The Lady of the Lake is the girlfriend of unprepossessing OC, fix-it for King Arthur but also colonialism is bad... am I picking up the right vibes or should I just read it and form my own view? 😂

Hi anon! I'm going to put my longer answer under a cut since the book is still really new and people may want to avoid spoilers. But firstly, all good stories are self indulgent. Writing for the market is dead, writing for yourself is thriving! So that never deters me from any book or movie. Please do some whacky stuff, I love it! Secondly, I encourage you to ignore bad faith spoilers that only offer criticism without any bright sides. (See what I did there?)

The Bright Sword has the kindest portrayal of Sir Palomides ever written and that means something to me!! It should mean something to anybody invested in the Arthurian literary tradition, I think, as it's been a long time coming. It’s no small thing. I really enjoyed the main cast—Bedivere, Palomides, Dinadan, Dagonet, Nimue, Morgan, Constantine, and OCs Collum and Scipio—they’re all wonderful in their own ways! They're queer, dealing with mental illness, disability, all sorts of things I've wanted from Arthurian retellings for years and haven't gotten in a satisfactory way. I bought the book for those characters and Lev Grossman delivered!

TL;DR I recommend the book! There was more done right than wrong. I shared lots of samples on tumblr and in my Arthurian Theater Server as I read along so people could make their own judgement based on the text itself, and they also liked it.

So my longer answer is—I thoroughly enjoyed the first 30/40 chapters. I couldn't put it down! I was reading at work!! After 31 it crashed and burned a little. There were still a handful of flashback chapters to "the good ol' days" between 31-40 that I also liked, but didn't care for the main post-Camlann conflict resolution, unfortunately.

However, I think I understand how Lev Grossman ended up there. In his Author's Note he stated his inspirations—Mary Stewart, Bernard Cornwell, and Nicola Griffith. And in his Reddit AMA the other day, he said it took him 10 years to write The Bright Sword. I believe all of this culminated in a bit of a disconnected story, as the ending seemed to blindside me. Let me explain.

In Bernard Cornwell’s Warlord Chronicles trilogy, Lancelot is a huge piece of shit from the start. Cornwell’s clearly an Arthur enjoyer. I don’t prefer that approach, but I respect it, and I love Cornwell’s writing. His main character, Derfel, was also plainly a huge inspiration for Grossman’s Collum. That’s a good thing! What I didn’t enjoy was The Bright Sword seeming to shift gears suddenly near the end and make Lancelot out to be a villain that didn’t feel sufficiently foreshadowed. Prior to that, he felt much more like Mary Stewart’s poet-eyed Bedwyr (a hybrid with Lancelot) or Nicola Griffith’s sweetly awkward Lancelot, only to turn around and, literally, snap. BOOM! Cornwell’s garbage-tier Lance. [Insert “He would not fucking say that!” meme here.]

Now regarding Nimue: in Stewart's series, Ninian is with Merlin and then later marries the Fisher King. In Cornwell's series, Derfel is a childhood friend of Nimue and eventually her lover. And in Griffith's book, Peretur ends up with Nimue. So Ninian/Nimue has a long tradition as a spouse/lover of other characters and I enjoyed all of those examples. In The Bright Sword, she was a badass the entire novel, fighting in the battles with intense magic, and she even got her own pov chapters. I liked Collum well enough, he's not my favorite Arthurian OC, but I definitely didn't hate him! His back story was a little eye-roll worthy and his infatuation with Nimue was meh at times, but he’s literally 17 leaving home for the first time. That tracks. It’s not a deal breaker for me by any stretch. Cursed (2020) is where the worst Lady of the Lake romance is at. Nimue/Arthur with some weird shoehorned Gawain love triangle thing? Blech. Get it away from me. It can always be worse!

As a known Arthurian OC enjoyer, I’ll go on record in defense of Collum. He’s fine and characters like him are often paired with canonical characters. I much prefer Nimue end up with someone her own age, whether it be Pelleas or an OC, than stay with Merlin. And The Bright Sword goes to great lengths to show that Merlin is a creep and Nimue a victim who was in the right to bind him in the cave. So this didn’t bother me that much at all.

As far as "fix-it" King Arthur and colonialism bad, not sure what you mean by that. Arthur is dead. That's literally the plot. Did you mean writing Arthur as a decent husband to Guinevere in flash backs? Lots of books and films have done that already, Lev Grossman isn't the first to write Guinevere in love with her husband and an Arthur who is on-par or even better than Lancelot. Personally I prefer when it's balanced but this isn't new or noteworthy. Now, obviously colonialism is bad. That’s the point of King Arthur—the Saxons are colonizers he expels. Not sure what point the spoilers you saw were trying to make there. But it’s irrelevant since The Bright Sword doesn't touch on colonialism very much. Palomides travels west from Baghdad after hearing outlandish stories about Camelot but none of his friends have ever encountered westerners before and they have wildly inaccurate ideas. So Palomides wants to go there and write a book about it (which he does). There’s no talk of the west reaching east from his perspective, and the Saxons are moot, as the focus is a land in want of a king after Arthur’s death, not expelling the Saxon invaders. Could the spoilers have meant monarchy? I don't think anyone is reading Arthurian Legend, which is strictly fantasy, to dismantle the monarchy (or the crimes committed by real life monarchies, such as colonialism). Fantasy, and by extension Arthurian Mythology, is not true to life in any stretch. So that feels like an unfair criticism to make of the genre, even when it takes historical inspiration.

But anyway yes I think you should read the book for yourself! I always advise reading a book before passing judgement. Sometimes a trusted friend will read a book and tell you, knowing best what you like, that it’s not for you. That’s all well and good. But I generally don’t trust the internet’s opinions at large. Much better to feel it out on your own time. I’d love to hear from you again once you’ve read it! Let me know! Have a great rest of your weekend. :^)

[ashriverr]

You’re sitting on a couch, a glass of human world wine Barbatos ordered in your hand. The New Year’s party continues to be lively in the ballroom of Diavolo’s castle and you close your eyes, basking in the calm and quiet of the empty lounge. A fire is crackling in the fireplace in front of you. You slip into your thoughts and don’t notice the door open and close.

“It’s a wonder how you managed to slip away from my brothers unnoticed,” a voice like silk speaks from behind you. You open your eyes to see Lucifer make his way over to the couch and sit next to you. “Is everything alright?”

You ignore the fluttering in your stomach at his proximity and respond with a gentle smile, “A bit overwhelmed is all. A little more quiet time and I’ll be good to go.” You’re fully looking at Lucifer now, his eyes sparkling and his face glowing from the flames of the fire. You think about resting your head on his shoulder but refrain from doing so. Instead, you take a long sip of the alcohol.

“I’m afraid if you wait any longer, you’ll miss the true celebration.” You raise an eyebrow. “It’ll be midnight in two minutes.”

“Oh.” You bite your lip. You would love to be out there celebrating with the others when the clock chimes and announces the changing of a year, but your battery hasn’t filled up quite enough for the chaos that’d be sure to ensue. Besides, a part of you relishes the idea of celebrating with only Lucifer as selfish as it sounds. “That’s alright.” A silence falls over the both of you and you shift until you’re facing Lucifer. “So, Mr. Perfect,” he frowns at the nickname and you grin, “everyone always has some sort of resolution for the next year, but that’s lame. Got any regrets from this year?”

You can hear the party grow in volume and you hope your question will get the demon to stay with you. You even think, for a fleeting moment, how nice it would be if you two could share a kiss to start off the new year. Perhaps that sort of luck could stretch throughout the rest of the year. It’s a big wish for sure, but it could happen. Asmo always complains about how much attention Lucifer seems to give you compared to the others, but you always brush it off as it being his duty to make sure you’re having a good time in the Devildom for the sake of Diavolo. But maybe, just maybe, that attention means something else, something more.

Lucifer studies your face and you find yourself staring at his lips for far too long. Maybe you shouldn’t finish your drink. You can’t even remember how many glasses you’ve had already. Your gaze eventually moves to meet his as he answers. “Perhaps.” There’s a playful glint in his eyes and his lips are turned upwards in a smirk. You place your wine on the coffee table. He does the same and you rest your arm on the back of the couch and lean your head against your closed fist. Matching his energy, you say, “Oh really?” You have regrets? I feel like I should be reporting this to a news station.”

Lucifer laughs and your heart feels as if it’s going to explode. His laugh is low and solid, like it came straight from deep in his chest. It doesn’t last very long, your joke wasn’t even that funny in the first place, but it still electrifies you nevertheless. You find yourself laughing with him and before you know it, you have both leaned towards each other. You can feel that you’re tipsy, but your mind is still clear enough to make decisions and remember things. You know Lucifer is fine as well, but you can see a tinge of red dusting his cheeks, red that only shows up when he’s starting to drink a bit more demonus than he should be, but a light enough red that he’s still very much aware of his actions.

The party outside begins to countdown in sync and the two of you get lost in each other’s eyes.

10

“Would you really like to know?” Lucifer asks.

9

“You don’t have to tell me, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t curious.” You move your head off your hand and put it in your lap.

8

“I’ve always liked that about you. Your curiosity,” he begins.

7

“Though it does seem to always get you in trouble.”

6

You laugh lightly, confused at what he’s getting at. “Yeah, I get that a lot.”

5

Lucifer’s eyes drop to your lips. And your body heats up.

4

“You wondered what my regret was this year, yes?”

3

“Uh-huh,” you reply, slowly. Your heart feels like it’s going to break free from your chest.

2

Lucifer’s hand cups your cheek and you notice that it’s gloveless. You feel yourself getting drunk off his presence. His natural scent mixed with the sweet smell of demonus overflows your nostrils and his warm hand slowly and gently pulls you closer towards him, his thumb brushing your cheek. His eyes are lidded and begin to close as he leans in and you follow.

1

The ballroom erupts in cheers as the clock strikes midnight. Lucifer whispers, his lips nearly touching yours, just loud enough for you to hear.

“I regret not kissing you sooner.” Your lips meet and you feel as if you’re flying in a sky full of stars.

His soft lips slot against yours perfectly and your hands slide up his chest until they’re resting on both of his cheeks as you eagerly return the kiss. Everything around you fades and you can only focus on the feeling of his lips against yours and his hand sliding to the back of your neck.

Eventually, you two part and rest your foreheads against each other.

“Happy New Year, Lucifer,” you breathe. Not even a second later, his lips are back on yours and you cannot wait for what the rest of the year has to offer.

[yukipri]

hi i hate to be a bother but i love your fic but i cant get more than a dozen or so chapters in bc i keep getting horrible anxiety about how the "present" time is ready to explode and i cant read longfic if it ends badly, could you say if the "present" time has a good resolution? no pressure at all, if you dont want to do that ill just wait for the return to the "present" and get the spoilers from my friends reading it

Thanks for liking my fic! Even if you're only able to get through part of it ^ ^;

So, hmm. I'm going to do my best to answer your question. I hope you understand that I don't feel comfortable (or frankly, capable) of telling you how the fic ends, as we are very very far away from that still (plus, I'm writing the fic for a reason!).

I can say that I personally do not consider the present "ready to explode" in any way. It is, in my opinion, the calmest time that the clones have ever experienced in the short, 13 years of their existence. Sure there's a lot going on, but for the very first time, they are in control of their own fate, and mostly have the upper hand. Is Sidious still out there? Yes. But Sidious is just as confused as, well, Obi-Wan right now, and he is actively on the run, which is more than can be said of any point we've seen of him in canon. Are there other threats too? Of course, but again, for once the clones are able to choose how to act without hiding. If anything, it's post-explosion, the explosion being the Override.

Why do the clones feel so in control? Well, that has to do a lot with the actual mechanics and process of the Override, which we are piecing together in the past.

It's true that Obi-Wan is a bit alarmed and very confused because he doesn't know what's going on. But he'll be alright, because the clones are, again, very calm and in control, and he'll take his cues from them. One of his purposes in the present is to be the audience lens through which new developments are revealed, but most of these things are not new or alarming to the clones, and they are the ones this all primarily affects. Will the clones tell Obi-Wan everything immediately? Of course not. But again, one of the purposes of writing this story non-chronologically and going into the past is so that you, the reader, can understand what's going on, and when the clones choose to share something with Obi-Wan, know the full context of that. Either way, Obi-Wan is a side character and not the primary focus in this story!

While there will be developments and action in the present eventually, right now it's far more a time of reflection, at least for the clones. There is going to be a lot of coming to terms with the past, personal reflection on identity, culture, freedom, the Republic, and the future of their new home. There is going to be more exploration of their life, and lots of politics and what it means to run a people that is no longer under subjugation. There is going to be following up on stuff from the war. There is going to be a significant amount of angst. However, nothing will "explode" for a very, very long time—we don't yet have enough context for that.

In comparison, I consider much of the "past" to be lighter, because sure it covers the war which is dark, but it's also familiar to us via canon media, except there's now the undercurrent of knowledge of all these networks and safety measures that exist, as well as new tools that Jango is actively working on. So it's bad, but we know it's not as bad. There's also just a lot more humor, since everybody (especially Jango) is still figuring things out! In the present, we kinda see the polished version after they become pros ^ ^;

We should be returning to the present in a few chapters (no clue how long those chapters will take), but a fair warning that it will be written with the assumption that you have read all previous chapters. Skipping all of the past will probably mean that a lot of it won't make sense, and I'm sorry, but I won't apologize for that, nor will I explain it when it's explained in the fic! The past bits do exist for a reason! And not just the events, but the thought processes that the characters had in the past will affect their present.

Likewise, we won't just stay in the present once we're back; after a while, we'll return to the past again, and probably eventually jump back to the present, etc. That's just how this story works.

Again, I'd rather not comment too much on the actual ending but, I do not consider this story a tragedy. It's not as simple as a fix-it either, and there's plenty of angst along the way, but I don't think you need to worry about it being a horrible conclusion.

I hope this answers your question! And I hope I didn't spoil myself too badly. Everything above that is not yet written is subject to change, because I do not want to limit my writing to what I said in an ask response, but I think this is a decent idea of what to expect.

I'm not here to tell you how (or even if!) to read my story, but yeah, the past is essential, because the present would not exist without it.

❀ ❀ Send YukiPri an Ask! ❀ ❀

[infini-tree]

episodic - part 2

< prev | next >

Summary: Captain stumbles in the dark, the boys are hasty, and Krupp looms over the narrative.

As that one quote goes: it's the villains who act; heroes react. Or maybe it's the heroes who act, with the villains hindering their every action? Either way, there are pranks to pull.

A/N: the series was meant to be comprised of oneshots, the fact that there’s a new chapter to an existing one is just as surprising to me.

what changed my mind? i could not think of a good title for this next bit, so i decided to append it to this fic. to be honest it works out perfectly, as this is the direct result of the first part anyway. to those that thought that the first part was a clean conclusion to the whole thing re: the boys and captain: i'm only partially sorry (and besides, it did end with them saying they were going to meddle further, so...), in reality it was the start of a larger thread!

i haven't decided how many chapters this chunk of story will be, but for the time being i will hopefully write chronologically in relation to this part of the timeline (as far as the fic series half of this au is concerned). so for now i won't jump around the timeline for assorted written oneshots. for now.

——————————–

By the time Captain Underpants reached the man in his head’s house, the fuzzy feeling in his chest had fizzled out. The issue is done. A resolution was reached. They’ve all said their nice words, and it’s fine now. 

The house was silent, save for the TV that he had left on. The living room was still littered in what remained of the prankovation (trademark). He paid no heed to the grown up talk on air as his own words from earlier kept rattling around his head.

I miss what it was like before all this. I know you do, too.

He circled his way around the table before plopping on the chair. The light from the TV practically bleached out the scattered notes on the table, leaving the other man’s words impossible to read. Right now, he really didn’t want to read them. With everything that’s happened, he had almost forgotten that he had just been talking about how annoyed he was at the prank earlier.

He’d have to reply, eventually, but at this moment, he feels…

He feels.

He doubled over and clutched the cassette recorder against his chest. It reminded him of the moment he had recorded– what his sidekicks listened to – and his body seized up even further. He was fine earlier, so why was he acting like this? He had even thought, for a moment, that it was a latent effect from a monster. 

Captain knew it wasn’t. A part of him wished it was, like how he wished things were before.

He glanced back to the cassette in his hands. It was too dark to see through the plastic door that showed the cassette tape, but he knew it was equal on both ends of the spooling parts of it, paused right after that moment. A moment he didn’t want to share like that.

But they were his sidekicks. He supposed that they had the right to know, so it was fine. It was fine.

Captain’s hands shook in the dark. From the edge of his vision, he saw the light that lit up the chair and the living room change. Pale blue, to darkness, to red from a commercial.

His words rattled in his head, both what was recorded and what was said. The letters snare the other ones like they were static clung together– at the same time I don't.  

His mind felt like it was racing, but the only thing on the tracks was grawlixes ensnared in agitrons. He could feel it make a one-way trip to his chest, where it sat heavily.

After what felt like an eternity of being curled up, the feeling managed to fade, Captain quietly peeled himself off the seat. He turned on the light.

“Well–” He floundered for a moment, trying to recall where they left off. It felt like years since he spoke to him. Play it cool. “I think the prankovation, trademark, is an improvement.”

He dipped a few fingers in a nearby glass and flicked the drops in his face. 

Snap. He let the uncomfortable tenseness in his limbs wash over him before it dissipated.

What were you doing for an hour?!

“I was…” He looked back down at the cassette player. “Looking for the cassette. It, uh, got misplaced in the shuffle.”

Splash, snap. The fact he couldn’t feel much from the man felt worse than feeling a dissipating sweep of emotion. At least then, he could try and guess where this was going– as terrible as it felt. 

Awfully convenient timing, the note remarked vaguely.

Captain could practically feel the accusation curdling under the ink. He knew his voice would have too much ache in it to rebuke the statement. He cannot lie. 

In a smaller voice: “My sidekicks found it.”

The ache twisted. He nearly spilled the cup he was using as he put his hand in it and wiped his face. 

Snap. 

The twisting feeling mingled with the prickling hot emotion of the man in his head.

Those brats know?

“They’re not brats!” he defended. “They’re… they’re just looking out for me.”

Splash, snap. No prickling hot this time, just something he could only describe as slimy.

Behind your back? Sounds about right.

“I– I trust them,” he said out loud, though he made no effort to record it. His voice was too shaky for that– he repeated the words until they came out smoother and only then did he record.

Splash, snap. I mean, you didn’t know you weren’t real until now. Who knows what else they’re hiding.

Captain shook his head. This shouldn’t be affecting him this badly– any hero worth their salt knows how villains will do anything to get a rise out of you for any sort of footing. This was no different. He knew this was no different.

Captain grounded his teeth until he swore he heard it crack under the pressure. 

“Even– even if they were hiding something, I still trust them.” A pause. “That was just a hiccup, and minor conflicts are bound to happen. They’ll do the right thing in the end, usually.”

The Waistband Warrior listened through the recording again. The response felt foolproof!

Splash. Snap.

He was hit by the caramel onion emotion again. Sweet and good feeling at first until you got into the acidic onion-y part. It was the exact same feeling that lingered in his chest when the man in his head told him he wasn’t real.

They’ll do the right thing in the end “usually”? the note said. Honestly, you should keep better track of your little “sidekicks” and what they do– ten year olds don’t exactly have the best judgment.

In smaller print in brackets: (eg. Stealing that cassette. You know that counts as breaking and entering, right?)

Something hot flared in his gut seeing the last statement. “They are not thieves!”  

Captain immediately clamped his mouth shut with a hand. He gave a quick glance to the recorder, relieved that he hadn’t pressed the record button yet. 

He brought himself to stand on solid ground. Made his way to close the suddenly too loud TV. Was this how he ran the school? Is this how he thought of the children? His sidekicks?

He swallowed. Forced the heat in his gut to cool. Pressed record. Paused.

“We are a team.”

Splash, snap.

Are you, the note retorted. Because from my end, it looks like you're their personal idiot that’s part of a months long gag. One that may be going stale.

Captain elected not to give a response to that. Saying nothing was not a lie. Plus, the man in his head was ruthless, combed at every dip and rise in his voice and managed to figure him out. If his sidekicks had anything else to hide, then there had to be a good reason.

There had to be.

Captain looked at the sticky note one more time and placed it on the far end of the table. He needed… alone time. Or at least, alone time without seeing all those little notes.

He decided to follow his gut feeling, and his gut led him to the Closet At The End Of The Hallway, cassette player in hand. As he opened the door, his sights were set on a box in the lower shelf. With a quick press to the cassette door, he pulled the tape out, placed it in a box of other tapes he used, and pulled out a fresh– and most importantly, empty– one. 

The lights from the living room didn’t quite reach his little corner of the hallway, leaving him half-shadowed. He was still expecting something to pop out of a dark corner, or for the flowers on the wallpaper to twist to vines. But, the more he was out here, the house felt less lonely. 

Alone, maybe. But in the same way he was alone– with another presence looming around him.

(Or, within him, he guessed?)

Haunted, then? No, that word rattled in his brain like a rock you wanted out of a shoe. Apparently, that sort of thing was pretty uncomfortable.

Captain scratched at his chest with a frown, trying to will the ache to lessen. He sighed. Rocks.

He thought back to the papers scattered across the living room. To the confused looks on his sidekicks’ face. To the scattered remnants of the man’s backstory he could find in this closet. These moments were not fights, but there was a strange weight to these quiet and small moments he never had a chance to parse before. It wasn’t like his usual fare, but it wasn’t not, in some ways.

He’s still trying to untangle this specific subplot.

Captain finally placed the cassette in the player. The Man In His Head would not notice the change. The action wouldn’t matter much to anyone except him. 

Maybe that was the point. 

He made his way back to the living room. Nothing changed from when he left, and yet he was still… expectant.

Captain had contemplated staying for longer– how could he not, with the amount of plot threads he needed to untangle? But the time that stretched out before him was much more daunting than any villain, and he wouldn’t know where to start.

He thought back to the Man In His Head. If he was out, the other was not. Being out meant there was one less evil in the world. But he was a superhero, not a jailer with a key. It wasn’t his nature.

He splashed water on his face.

Snap.

Cuts from one scene to the next was a familiar thing to him. Much more than the endless stretches of time he was allotted in the house. So when one blink later he was somewhere that wasn’t in that lonely house, Captain sat up quickly. He was already getting out of the man’s clothes to get into something more heroic.

“Sidekicks?” 

George gave him a look. “Uh, Captain Underpants–”

“How’re you feeling?” Harold added.

In record time, he was out of the clothes the man in his head insisted on and had grabbed a picnic blanket-cape conveniently on the ground. 

“Well, I don’t feel like I was smashed to the ground, so… pretty good! Now where’s that monst– ack!”

Four hands grabbed at his cape before he could properly fly up. The momentum left him upside-down. 

From his point of view, Harold’s mouth curled up– that is to say it curled down, if he were right side up. “There’s no monster.”

“There’s always a monster.”

Now both of them were right side up-grimacing. 

Captain tilted his head, his entire body flipping right-side up at the motion, and amended with, “Or, uh, at least a conflict.”

“In that case…”

“Krupp’s cracked down on a lot of the school rules,” George explained. “And I figure that this would be a good opportunity to kill two birds with one stone.”

Captain gulped, trying to will away the words exchanged in the previous scene. “M– metaphorically, right?”

“It’s for all of us!” Harold picked up where the other left off. “Even you, after what Krupp must’ve put you through.”

“Now–” George waved a hand. “We were thinking that we could do a rehash of the prankovation, but–”

“We thought he might expect that! So then I thought you could help us out in the ideas department, like you did with the whole Brain Farts issue. Whaddya say?”

Captain stopped hovering. He could feel the stuck rock feeling again, rolling around in his chest.

“Listen, we get it– I know the last time you helped, it was… well, never mind about that,” Harold winced. “Nothing like that’s going to happen this time, we promise. And you won’t get caught. Plus, you’re the only one who can help us.”

“Promise?” Captain echoed, testing out the word like one would test the weight of a projectile before throwing it. 

“Yeah, for sure.” George said quickly, like throwing a hot potato before moving on. He looked up from what he was doing and handed him a plastic bag of supplies. “Think of this as… Free The Children, Part Two.” 

Captain gave a look inside. He wasn’t sure how the supplies connected to each other– he was never a planning sort of guy.

“Ah, to make school fun again, right?” 

“Yeah!”

His shoulders untensed. That was a good thing, he reassured himself. “Well, when you put it like that– what do you need me to do?”

——————————–

But before I tell you the rest of this story, I have to tell you this one.

Sunlight skirted off the remaining leaves around Treehouse Comix Inc. The wind was quickly snapping them up and off towards other autumn-y pastures. They had to bust out some of the blankets they kept up there, but eventually their parents were going to start telling them they’re not allowed up as George’s dad fortified it for winter

The key word was eventually. There were more pressing matters at stake than getting a little cold.

Harold frowned at the page he was working on. The content was fine, but something about the way he was drawing it was frustrating him and he didn’t know why. He set it aside next to the other pages. 

“Ugh,” he let himself splay on the ground dejectedly, face planting into the wood floor.

“Is that an ugh for Krupp suddenly going crazy mode with his rules or an ugh for the Cass-Incident?” George asked, leafing through his notebook and crossing out some of the more half-baked ideas.

“Uuugh,” Harold ugh’ed, which roughly translated to both.

He made his own noise of agreement as he crossed out another idea.

In one corner: the entire fourth grade had been blindsided by the sudden announcement of a whole gauntlet of assessments. Essays in English class, timed tests in math, horrible running tests in gym, but the real kicker was what was in store for science– a fair with mandatory participation. Even the weekend Invention Convention didn’t have that!

In the other: the Cassette Incident (Cass-Incedent, for short). It didn’t weigh in their minds so much as it squatted in the corner of it. It was just one of those things that was looming like a principal-and-or-superhero-shaped elephant in the room.

Harold slammed a fist down to the floor and pushed the sketchbook away. Instead of walking over, he just rolled beside the beanbag the other boy was sitting on. 

“This is too much.”

“I know.” He set his own notepad to the side. “It took a long time to figure out how to make comics at the same speed we did before we were in separate classes, now I’m not even sure we can keep up the same release schedule with everything else now.”

A pause. “Do you think this has to do with the Cass-Incident? The timing is too convenient.”

“What else could it be? It’s mostly affecting our grade.” Then, in a frustrated grumble he added: “Everything lately feels like it leads back to them.” 

Harold said a soft hm, before picking up the recently abandoned sketchbook. Turning to a new page, he started to draw.

“What did he mean by that he didn’t want it to change?” he asked. The doodle was Captain Underpants standing around with the same confused hurt they saw on his face as he found out that they found out. “Like you said, Krupp’s been nothing but mean to him.”

George thought for a moment. “Maybe he’s afraid of things getting worse if they did change. And, well–” He gestured vaguely.

“The sudden rules right after we found out.” Harold stared at the page intently. He started placing more lines; a panel around the Captain doodle, lighter lines radiating behind him. Shadows at his feet. “Poor Captain Underpants. At least he doesn’t have to deal with school.”

“Small victory that is.”

Harold continued scratching out more shadows. “What are we going to do?”

George put a hand to his chin. If he was right about the rule changes connecting to the Cass-Incident– and let's be real, he had a high chance of it on account of Krupp being predictable– then they had to deal with it and the source in one fell swoop. An inkling of a plan was forming in the back of his mind. 

And they could mesh it into the as-of-now half-baked idea they had shortly after said Cass-Incident. 

He stood up and made his way over to the Treehouse compartment where they kept stuff for their pranks. He began pulling everything out and dumped it on the ground.

“We’re going to need supplies. I don’t think the stuff we got is enough.”

The other boy sat up and dusted himself off. Confusion gave way to a determined look; he didn’t need to hear the plan– he knew this was going to be good. “What do we need?”

[ageless-aislynn]

ZOMG, frens, I have to tell you something I didn't expect to be able to say for a long time, if ever:

I played Halo: Reach today!!!

I'm sure I mentioned that my dad's computer started blue screening back in October when my previous computer did? A couple of days ago, I did a Windows reset on it and... it seemed to steady out. And then today, it dawned on me to check and see if his computer met the specs for Halo and it did! It doesn't have a dedicated graphics card but I found a video on Youtube of somebody playing Halo with the same Intel chip that his has. And it worked! It was a little bit less smooth than my previous computer and lower resolution but I absolutely did not care one bit! I was playing Halo again! My controller even worked fine!

Yippee! So I'm doling out some of the things I used to do on my computer over several other devices:

Steam games on my dad's computer

Tumblr etc on my tablet

Writing by hand, then transcribing onto my tablet with my bluetooth keyboard

And I even found my old Sandisk mp3 player so I can listen to music while I'm writing! Granted, it wasn't compatible with any Windows after 7, so I can't change any of the music on it but hey, it's interesting to see what I was listening to about 10 years ago, lol!

Still can't vid or make GIFs but at least I got a few things back, so that makes me feel a little more hopeful, you know? Getting Halo back is HUGE to me, what can I say?

I'm still going to fire up Georgette every so often in the hopes that eventually she'll get new BIOS and driver updates that will miraculously solve all of her problems and suddenly she can be used like shes supposed to. But until then, at least I have some new options and I'm so grateful for that!

Heh, I was able to find some of my own GIFs via Tumblrs GIF search, lol! Most of them are on my backup externals, some are on Georgette but I can't get them on the tablet, of course. Still, finding alt methods to do the same things is going to have to be my new normal for a while. I can deal.

Honestly, just getting to play some Halo again has given me such hope after yesterday was a really bad day. Just had to share! Love you, frens, hope you're doing well today. 💖

[elvenfoe]

happy new year guys!!

I'm going to experiment with highly specific goal-related sigils this year, feel free to shoot me a dm if you'd like to join in! we could have discussions about sigil making, start with small goals, and eventually develop a personal practice of sigil magic through trial and error. we can share updates on what works, what doesn't, even if you're just curious about it. now that I'm typing this out i think it would be very cool if we made a group chat or something like that! let me know what you think <3

the reason behind this shift is that one of my new year's resolutions is to be honest and direct with myself, over the past two years I've realised that i use vague ideas and distant future ideals as a way to avoid discomfort and shirk responsibility. like i entered a room after graduating from a course i didn't care about and convinced myself that if i wanted to, i could leave and do anything i want and find success in it. ive built an illusion around myself in this room, and voicing actionable ways to achieve my desires feels like betraying this comfort because once i exit via a certain door, i could end up falling on my face lol. in truth, I've given up doing anything and now I'm inexperienced and lost. all that's done is create a stagnant environment around me and led to insane brain fog (also a ton of anxiety attacks, late night crying sessions, and silent screaming but such is life).

i think transitioning out of this mindset would be easier if i did it via my sigilcraft! like learning how to word my desires and thinking of actionable ways i can achieve them and then incorporating that into my statements of intent...

yes i intend to make 2024 all about self realisation through the medium of practical magic.

i find it hard to integrate myself into reality (especially working a 9 to 5) and loathe institutions and all i really want is to earn enough to leave my home country and create peace and contentment for myself. and if that works out, maybe help others do the same.

it's sooo weird having a brain that abhors reality and has to be tricked into self-sustainibility like this. lol. oh and i want to crochet more. I didn't mean to overshare like this but ahh. happy new year!!!

[justmystyles]

A lot happened for me in 2023, it was challenging for a lot of reasons, but that just makes me all the more grateful for the good things that did come my way.

One of the darkest moments of my year brought on two of my brightest lights. Commiserating over our shared trauma brought me a new friend who I instantly bonded with, and now consider one of my closest confidants.

It also brought me Harry. A few LoT videos had come across my FYP, and it had put him on my radar, but on one particularly emotional drive home from work, SOTT hit me just right, and like a sweet little duckling, I imprinted on Harry. It was game over.

That eventually led me here, I came in like a bat out of hell, posting stories at an incredibly unsustainable rate, and was welcomed with open arms. I am forever grateful to have wound up here, and to have made the connections I have. My Harry obsession came out of nowhere, but with your help, I feel like I caught up pretty quickly.

I burnt out from writing as much as I did as fast as I did, and that’s one of my regrets of the year, it’s also one of my resolutions for 2024. I want to find my way back to writing, and sharing my stories with all of you. I have a lot of great ideas, and a lot of great requests from you guys that I want to share. I know I won’t be able to match the consistency that I was at, but I do want to be better and have some kind of release schedule.

Anyway, all that’s to say, thank you. Thank you for welcoming me, for supporting me, and for being there for me in ways you don’t even know. I wish you all a happy new year and the best of wishes for 2024.

🖤 jms