#no idea what this is but I wrote it and I'm sharing it

[lovemybluebully]

Hits Different

I wrote something!!!!!!!!

This is for @fluffyficsanddreams !! Thank you for sending me your idea that got my mind to finally spit something out! 🤗

https://www.tumblr.com/lovemybluebully/782500912701833216/hello-hello-forced-to-leave-a-note-on-my-other?source=share

This one is more in line with Poolverine than my other fics as I usually try to leave them open for the reader's interpretation of their exact relationship, but @fluffyficsanddreams ships them so I went that way this time. Please go check out @fluffyficsanddreams adorable Poolverine art!!

Also I don't think I'm the best at writing romantic-type stuff so sorry if it's terrible. 😅

"Deadpool and Wolverine"-verse

ler!Wade/Deadpool x lee!Logan/Wolverine

Word Count: 3,059

Wade beamed down, trying not to move and disturb the Wolverine who currently was at ease on his back and laying with his head on Wade's lap. He held his tongue for the time being to simply enjoy the moment as he took in every detail on the resting man's face.

It always made him happy to see Logan looking completely tranquil and not on edge. With his eyes closed and his brows and his lips at such repose it completely erased all the hard creases from his face from when he normally was feeling angry or depressed or just regular skepticism over Wade's usual shenanigans.

The merc's eyes traveled up to marvel over his roommate's irregular hairstyle with the two distinct peaks that Wade affectionately loved to refer to as "kitty ears" much to Logan's displeasure. He'd spent many of their evenings together just brushing and kneading his fingers through it right into the man's scalp to help him sleep at night.

Speaking of hair, his style of beard was never something to go unnoticed. While Wade found it a bit silly looking, it was part of who Logan was and he never wanted to change anything like that about him. Not to mention Wade imagined he would look pretty strange without it and he had to admit that it did add to his rugged charm.

Still, he found himself unable to resist breaking the peace and making a comment about it.

"You know the whole muttonchops fad died out in the early 1900s, right? Or did you not get that memo?"

Logan immediately transformed his relaxed face into a frown as he now glared up at Wade, destroying all that he'd been admiring moments ago.

"Well did your stupid ass not get the memo that I'm pushing 200? It was totally normal when I became an adult, and I just never cared enough to change it," Logan grumbled through the slight irritation he was now feeling as Wade raised his hands in surrender.

"Now now, don't get all cranky on me. I'm just saying it's not something you see these days anymore."

"What? You want me to shave it off?"

Wade gasped as dramatically as humanly possible.

"And have you looking like that circus clown, P.T. Barnum?! Absolutely not! Besides maybe one day you'll bring it back into style," Wade smirked as he began running his fingers through the thick facial hair.

"And that'll be the day I'll shave it," Logan tucked his chin protectively, trying not to smile as Wade's fingers tickled along his jawline.

"Oh no, you fucking will not. As long as you live under my roof it will be forbidden. Not to mention I wouldn't be able to do this...," Wade grinned with both hands now on either side of Logan's face, lightly stroking his beard and twiddling around under his chin.

"Good. Maybe then you would keep your hands to yourself," he clamped his jaw that had spread into a grin as his head twitched about to try to avoid the touches.

"If you didn't like it, I might. But we both know that's just not true now, is it, Peanut?"

Logan didn't deny it as the giggles finally started to slip through despite his best efforts.

"At-At leheheast stop fuckin' tihihickling me, shihihithead."

"I'm not tickling you. At least not on purpose. No, if I wanted to tickle you then I'd do this...," his hands slid down to just below Logan's ears as he began to softly scratch at the sides of his neck.

Logan's face instantly scrunched up as he broke into uncontrollable giggles and his shoulders crowded in to feebly guard his neck.

"Heheheheheehee-Dohohoohoon't," he protested as he just continued to lay in Wade's lap without any further action from him.

"And if I dooooo? Are you going to do something about it, tough guy?" Wade grinned mischievously, moving his fingers a little faster to tease the sensitive plane of skin.

"Juhuhuhust stohahahahap," Logan only wiggled his head around, trying to squeeze out Wade's hands with his shoulders. He took one lame attempt to swat at him, but other than that his arms remained limply crossed over his chest.

"You should count yourself lucky that I'm in such a charitable mood, dear Logie."

"You cahahall tohohohohorturin' me, chahahahaaritable?"

"Oh, if you want to see real torture that can definitely be arranged. See instead I could raspberry and nibble every inch of your yummy tummy until you're screaming. Scribble all over your soles until you're laughing so hard that you can't stop snorting. Or tickle deep into your armpits until you're gasping and wheezing for just one breath of air. But I'm not going to do any of that right now, and do you know why?"

"Wh-Whhhyeheeheeheehehehe," Logan snorted, not even sure why he bothered questioning Wade's manic mind.

"Because this......Being gentle like this with you....It always just hits different," Wade mused as he carried on with his ministrations.

Don't get him wrong. He absolutely loved to have Logan thrashing and howling underneath him until he was red in the face, tears leaking down his cheeks while desperately begging for his life. But watching him just lay there like this, not even fighting it, brought Wade an internal pleasure that he couldn't put into words.

In the beginning, the older man had naturally been very resistant to being touched in affectionate ways, and despite receiving many stab wounds in his efforts, Wade was patient with him. He started out with small things like fist-bumping his shoulder or giving him the smallest side hugs.

It took a little time, but eventually Logan's muscles stopped stiffening up anytime Wade touched him, and he allowed things to escalate into Wade making more meaningful contact without having a violent reaction to it.

Being touched in ways that brought relief and comfort to him was not something he'd lived with over the past several years and it at first felt so foreign to him. And though it wasn't easy for him to admit it to himself, deep down it was exactly what he needed. What he yearned for all along.

So imagine Wade's surprise the day Logan scooted closer to lean against him on the couch and not make any protest to when Wade put his arm around him. Nor when Wade began to rub his shoulder and eventually move up to fingering through his hair. He was like an untamed animal that had finally began to put his trust into the other man and had Wade wishing he could relive the moment over and over again.

Though there was one thing that Logan hadn't considered by allowing Wade to get so close. And all it took was one jestful poke into his ribs when he had been cracking overly crude jokes at Wade's expense.

Logan was horribly ticklish. Everywhere. Always had been, though there had never been anyone crazy enough to even have the idea cross their mind. Enter your local resident lunatic, Wade Wilson, who didn't think twice and immediately launched a vicious attack as soon as a sign of this weakness was detected.

Now Logan could have easily thrown Wade across the room with his strength alone or plunged his foot-long claws into his body in protest, but he didn't. It was as if he was tired of fighting the thought that no one would ever want to show him any sort of affection again and finally decided to completely surrender himself to it all.

The fingers mercilessly tickling his ribs had him laughing without restraint and even though he made a show to curse Wade out and threaten him at every turn that all eventually dissolved into him desperately begging Wade not to tickle him. And other than squirming like crazy and trying to buck Wade off of him he did not one damn thing to stop him.

He had basically let Wade tickle him for what felt like hours until Logan could barely catch his breath amongst his snorting fits, though it had literally only been a few minutes. Afterwards Wade naturally couldn't contain himself from gushing about how cute Logan looked and sounded when he was laughing so freely.

Logan had been too breathless to argue about it even if he wanted to, instead only giving a weak punch to the other man's chest along with a grunt to not do that again. But with how Logan had responded to the whole ordeal Wade knew that he didn't really mean it, and the two had never been closer after that.

Logan had learned to love being touched again, especially when it came from Wade. With how highly sensitive his skin was he had known just how much pain it could cause him, and he was now finally getting to see how much pleasure it could bring him too.

He had really come to enjoy being pet and would offer himself into positions that Wade couldn't resist putting hands on him. Laying in Wade's lap was his favorite spot. Sometimes just his head or other times he'd lay his whole body across him, guiding Wade's hand under his shirt to rub his back or his belly.

Wade was completely ecstatic to have been chosen above anyone else, and he was happy to give into any of Logan's whims at the drop of a hat. Despite him being so sensitive, Wade knew just how to touch and massage him without it tickling and that is precisely what he would do. At least at first.

He knew that even though he might say otherwise, Logan really didn't mind being tickled. He might even dare to say that he actually liked being tickled. Because even after time and time again of ending up in a ticklish situation Logan would never stop coming back for more.

It was always the same. Wade would rub and caress wherever Logan currently desired until the man positively melted into a puddle of deep relaxation that he was allowed to wallow in for as long as he chose. And when he'd start to show any signs of coming out of it....that was Wade's cue.

Those touches gradually became lighter to where they were barely touching the skin to set Logan's nerves on fire. This slowly pulled a grin onto his face along with him unconvincingly whining for Wade not to start. Then as the fingers began to make a little more contact and move more quickly to gently skim and scratch and scribble at his sensitive skin that's when the giggles appeared.

Wade loved that he had the power to make the mighty Wolverine squirm with such a soft touch and being able to witness that little extra bit of vulnerability that he was sure no one else ever got to see. The way Logan trusted him made him feel like he could combust, but little did he know that all the things he did made Logan feel the same way.

"Hihihit's different? Ho-How abohohout I hihihit yoohoohoou?" Logan giggled like crazy as his legs moved restlessly and his feet kicked at the couch, still allowing Wade to tickle all over his neck.

"Ah ha! So you do want to hit this? I knew the truth would come out one day, though I was hoping for a little more romance involved. So how do you want to be? Top or bottom? Personally, I prefer..."

He was caught off guard as Logan had reached up and grabbed the front of his shirt, pulling him down closer to his face.

"Ya know Wade, I think I'd like to be on top for once," he spoke in a husky whisper that immediately shut down Wade's hyper mind and had him swallowing the lump in his throat.

"You.....You wanna.....uhhh.....what?" Wade made so many jokes and innuendos that his brain couldn't even began to process what was happening right now. Was Logan just fucking with him too?

"Actually, I don't mind either way. And I've got plenty of other places ya can tickle....below the belt...," Logan growled softly as he indicated to a lower position on his body with his eyes.

"You mean like....your knees?" Wade inquired innocently through his not-well masked panic, making Logan chuckle at the high level of anxiety he could smell around him.

"You're not very good at this are you?"

"How can you tell? I mean, I don't know if you're being serious or just fucking with my head right now, but if it's the latter then let me tell you that it's not funny because I'm a human being and I don't deserve to have my emotions fucked wi- "

Wade was cut off again as Logan quickly leaned up, smashing his lips against the other man's and pushing his tongue past to invade his mouth. Instantly Wade felt his body turn to mush as his brain tried to catch up and was kicking into reboot mode, but by then Logan was already pulling away with a smirk.

"That hit different enough for ya?"

Wade only sat there frozen in shock as he opened his mouth to reply, but nothing came out.

"Holy shit. I finally managed to shut you up for once," Logan laid his head back into Wade's lap and folded his arms behind his head, staring up at him with a cocky grin.

Wade simply blinked down at him, finally finding his words.

"Okay let me get this straight here......You.....and me? You want.....me???"

"Look Wade, you're the only person who's ever given me a chance despite my past and the shitty way I initially treated you. You believed in me and by doing so made me believe in myself again. I didn't want to see it at first, but you really do care about me and I'm more than grateful for all the effort you put in to make me feel like this again. So after all that it'd be a lie for me to say that I didn't feel anything for you too," his smile was soft now as he stared into Wade's eyes.

"That's....I mean, this is totally unexpected. Of course I care about you. I do a lot. It's just that I never thought you'd ever feel that way about me. See I'm not sure you're thinking clearly here. You could literally have anyone you wanted, and you would settle for some washed-up, bottom-of-the-barrel guy like me? No, this has to be a dream. Wake up, Wade! Ow!" He grimaced as he slapped himself in the face, finding that his situation was still reality.

Logan's eyes glazed over in concern as he reached out to gently grab Wade's hand to prevent him from trying that again while Wade looked down at him, eyes beginning to tear up.

"There's just no way this is real. Look at you....And look at me," he looked himself up and down gesturing to his disfigured face and body before lowering his head, "I'm a freak."

The older man looked at him thoughtfully before smiling up at him again.

"Maybe so," Logan cupped Wade's chin to tilt his head back up so he could look him in the eyes, "But you're my freak. And I like ya just the way that you are."

Wade let out a choked-back sob of glee as he put a hand on the back of Logan's to hold it there for a little longer against his face. After a few more moments with Wade trying to regather his thoughts, Logan took it upon himself to break the silence for once.

"You're not one of those guys who cries during sex, are ya?"

The merc huffed out a laugh as he adamantly shook his head.

"No no, I'm sorry. It's just you don't know what a relief this is for me. I haven't been this happy since you helped me save my universe."

"Likewise, bub. Now quit your blubbering 'cause I ain't kissing you again lookin' like that," he smirked with pride when that managed to get another laugh out of Wade.

"Well I can't just turn it off instantly. That's not how emotions work, you know? I just need a minute, but in the meantime, I think I can find a way to cheer myself up....," he placed a hand on Logan's chest as his fingers skittered across to an armpit that had been left wide open and lightly dug into the spot.

"Aaahehehehahahaha! If-If thahahahaat's whahat it tahahakes!" Logan laughed as he struggled but kept his arms up, willing to endure for Wade's amusement, "I kkkk-kinda lihihihike it ahahahaanyways!"

"Oh you're going to regret ever admitting that Mr. Wolverine," Wade was now back to his usual demeanor, but had stopped the playful torment as Logan shrugged in reply.

"My life is full of regrets, what's one more?"

"Hopefully I won't be one of them," Wade chuckled uneasily.

Logan finally sat up all the way, righting himself to sit beside Wade as he grabbed the back of his head.

"Only one way to find out," he grinned and pulled Wade forward to start kissing him again, this time with Wade eager to return the act. Logan's other hand wandered over Wade's body and when he got down to his waist area he was surprised when Wade released a small yelp.

"MmMMMmm," Wade pulled back and blabbered out without thinking, "Sorry. Tickles."

Logan paused to look at him momentarily before a mischievous grin began to form on his face.

".....What was that?"

Wade's eyes suddenly went wide, knowing he had just royally fucked himself.

"Uh heh, I mean....what? What did I say?" Wade was already backpeddling along the couch as Logan crawled after him.

"Something ya shouldn't have. Being a loud mouth can really bite ya in the ass," Logan easily caught him in a second and got the man pinned underneath his heavy bulk, making escape impossible.

"W-Wait Logan! Wait! Think about this! You don't want to ruin the mood, do you?!" Wade spit out in a last-ditch effort to de-escalate the situation, but the way Logan chuckled destroyed any hope he had.

"I think this is going to set the mood juuust fine."

"But I'm not even that ticklish! I promise this won't be that fun! No please! Have mercy! I swear I'll never tickle you agaaaHAAHAHAhahahahahanooohahahahahahah!"

"You take that back, Wilson."

[charliegyrth]

Fat Camp Reunion - Part 1

Welcome Back to Sunrise Pines

Hi, everybody! Charlie Gyrth here! I started writing this story based on an anonymous request, but things kind of snowballed as I started writing. It's two parts so far, but I've included an experimental ending. You'll see...

***

“You are cordially invited to Sunrise Pines for the 10-year reunion of the best summer ever!”

The message came on a postcard showing the Sunrise Pines amphitheater, filled with smiling teenage thespians (myself included) all dressed up in our Godspell costumes.

I know the idea of a summer camp reunion might sound ridiculous, but we were ridiculous. We were theater kids, most of us determined to make it on Broadway. We were emotional, passionate, mostly gay. For many of us, Sunrise Pines was the one place where we could be ourselves, feel the emotions we wanted to feel without embarrassment, and burst into song whenever we wanted.

So yeah, it wasn't surprising that Jacob organized a 10-year reunion and sent out official invitations on personalized postcards.

Under that first line—the “cordially invited” part—was information about time, dates, and what to bring. And under that was a short message just for me that Jacob wrote by hand. I won't tell you what he said (wanna keep that private), but it meant a lot to me. Jacob was my first love, and even though we lost contact after the summer, the time we spent together shaped my life forever.

Jacob was such a beautiful man, both physically (tall and muscular with a mop of adorable blonde curls) and personality wise. He listened to people. He spread happiness. He had the magnetism of a natural leader, a guy that we all wanted to follow because he understood us. (In Godspell, our last performance, he was Jesus. Obviously.)

Of course, I RSVPed yes. I wanted to see everyone again, but I really wanted to see Jacob.

I had some reservations, though. For one thing, I was a high school teacher. I did not make it to Broadway (though I was pretty sure none of the other campers did, either).

For another thing, I knew I’d be the odd man out. All the other campers had been locals, either living in Moulton (the town nearest to the camp) or Ridgeway (the next town over). I lived hundreds of miles away, and while Jacob made sure that no one excluded me at the time, I could only assume that the rest of them kept in touch over the years. That's probably why Jacob added that very heartfelt message at the bottom of my postcard. Which, again, I'm not gonna share with you.

But whatever. I wasn’t nervous.

***

A few weeks later, the date arrived. It was a Friday. I flew in that morning and drove my rental car to Sunrise Pines, arriving at noon. I took a moment to check my reflection in the rearview (all good) and hurried to the main building.

The camp had closed a few years ago, and the whole place had been rebranded as a site for corporate retreats. All the buildings looked the same, though the gray paint job and new, metallic fixtures had sacrificed old, scrappy charm for bland cleanliness.

A burly, bearded guy waved at me from the porch. I had to smile. Of course they hired a worker or two for the reunion. He probably had a sign-in sheet and name tags for each of us.

But as I got closer and the man shouted my name, I realized this wasn't a hired worker at all. This was Tony, one of the former campers.

We used to call him Trainwreck Tony. (In a loving way, of course.) He was an ultra-skinny twink and a bundle of nervous energy. He moved at double-speed, tripping wherever he went because of his constant need to rush from place to place, as if he was always afraid of missing out.

Well, this Tony looked incapable of rushing anywhere. He was so fat that he had to press both hands against the table to hoist his jiggling body off his chair. I recognized his friendly, gap-toothed smile, but that was it. Every other part of him was slathered with layer upon layer of soft fat.

“Trainwreck?” I asked.

He smiled at the nickname, not offended at all. “No one’s called me that in forever. Phillip, look at you!” He spread his arms wide, waiting for a hug. I guess he didn't have the energy to come down the stairs himself.

I ran over and hugged him. It felt so strange to have all that fat squeeze into me. In that moment, I realized that I'd actually never hugged a fat person before. I wasn't against fat people. I just didn't have any in my social circle. All my friends were pretty much like me, fit gay guys who exercised regularly (for aesthetic reasons) but didn't enjoy sports. Glamor-muscles, basically.

Trainwreck Tony, one of the smallest guys at camp, was now twice my size. Crazy.

He pulled away. “I volunteered to be our greeter so I could be first to see everyone. Dang, you haven't changed at all.”

I bristled a little at the comment. I thought I looked a lot better than my teenage self. I had stubble now, and I’d packed on muscle, especially in the chest and shoulders. I started bleaching my naturally brown hair.

But I guess my changes couldn't compare to his. I wondered how the other guys reacted when they saw him.

As expected, Tony stuck a name tag on my chest. Then he handed me my dorm keys (Cabin 4). He told me that most of our group were already here, either in the canteen or hanging out in the amphitheater.

I still had all my luggage in the car, but I was too excited to unpack. I caught up with Tony for a few more minutes (he was a baker, unsurprisingly) and then I hurried to the amphitheater.

***

The place looked exactly the same, aside from wheelchair ramps that they must’ve added. At first, it looked empty. No one was on the stage redoing their childhood monologues. (That's what I expected.) But then I saw a group of three guys sitting and talking on the bottom row.

I just about had a heart attack when I saw them. All three were just as fat as Tony. Actually, one was slightly smaller. Still pot-bellied, though. The others were full-on obese, their wide hips spilling over the narrow benches.

I walked closer, trying to mentally shrink their face-fat so I could recognize them.

The smallest of the three was Eugene. He was the only Asian guy at camp. As a teen, he was short and wiry, which made his loud, gorgeous singing voice seem like it was coming from someone else. Now, he was just as short, but his body type had gone from sticklike the spherical.

Next to him was Frankie, the token straight guy at camp. He’d been tall and stocky back then, but now he was pure flab. He didn’t have a belly as much as a collection of rolls hanging off him.

And then there was Lonny. Just as big as Frankie, but more solid and healthier-looking. He probably wasn’t healthier, but he looked like he was.

“Phillip!” they shouted in excited unison.

It took me a while to respond. My brain was overloaded.

What the hell had happened to my friends? One guy turning obese was normal (and probably expected). But four? That was more than a coincidence. I desperately wanted to ask them why they’d all let themselves go, but I didn’t have the words.

“Um, hey!” I said, failing to hide the awkwardness in my voice.

Lonny and Frankie needed more time to get off the bench, allowing Eugene to jump up and run over. He wrapped me in a hug. His belly felt harder than Tony’s as it pressed against me. “Wow, Phillip. You got skinny.”

I was only skinny in comparison to them. I used to be skinny, and I kind of hated that that’s how he saw me.

“How’s it going?” I asked as he pulled away and gave my body another up-down look.

“Still living in Moulton. Obviously.” (He gestured at his belly as he said that. Not sure why.) “Took over my parents’ convenience store.”

“Cool,” I said and filled him in on my own post-camp life.

By then, Lonny and Frankie waddled over and hugged me, too. We spent the next half hour catching up. I learned everything about their lives except for the one thing I desperately wanted to know.

I couldn’t directly ask them why they’d all gotten so fat. None of them seemed embarrassed by their bodies, so I was sort of waiting for one of them to bring it up. Their transformations were so extreme, and their extra weight must’ve really affected their lives. But to my extreme frustration, they didn’t give me a single hint as to the reason why they’d grown.

And the strangest thing was, all three of them mentioned how “skinny” I was. They each glanced at my athletic frame and trim waist with looks that were… disappointed? Sad for me?

It wasn’t in my imagination. It was like they saw me as an outlier, like their own morbidly obese bodies were just how people were supposed to look.

Still, it was great to catch up, and the more we talked about old times, the more I stopped caring about how they looked. These guys were my friends, and it felt great to fall into the same rhythms.

“So,” Lonny asked as he casually scratched the bottom of his hanging gut, “do you still act?”

I laughed, a bit sadly. “Not for a long time. But I lead my school’s drama club. Some of my students have some real talent.”

“Good for you!” he replied, no judgment in his voice.

There was an awkward pause after that, and I finally figured out a way to broach the subject that I really, really wanted to discuss. “And what about you, Lonny? Do you still dance?”

Back in camp, Lonny was our best dancer. He used to be so freaking flexible. Even when he was just sitting in chairs, he’d twist his lithe body into pretzels without even realizing it.

Lonny laughed hard enough for his belly to wobble. “Naw. Dancing is a little difficult now.”

“Oh?” I said. Then I waited for him to continue. I’d just opened the door for him to tell me why he was so fat. Why they all were.

But nope. Instead, he completely changed the subject. “Have you seen the others yet? I think they’re all in the canteen. You wanna head that way?”

Frankie elbowed him in the side. “You just wanna eat again, don’t you?”

“No!” he protested, but his smile told me that Frankie was totally right.

And just like that, the four of us headed back to the main buildings. It would’ve been faster to walk up the amphitheater steps, but none of them could handle it so we took the long way around.

As kids, the walk would’ve taken us five minutes, but at their much slower pace, it took us fifteen. We talked the whole way there, but I was only half-paying attention. I kept thinking about all the other guys. Was everyone fat except me?

When I pushed open the door to the canteen, I had my answer.

***

“Holy crap!” someone shouted. “Phillip!”

Six (somewhat) familiar faces stared up at me from the bench seats. These were the rest of our crew. Jared, Logan, Syd, Mike L., Mike C., and Bobby. All of them were massive.

When I psyched myself up before coming to Sunrise Pines, I had a feeling that I’d be a bit of an outcast just because I lived so far away. I had no idea that I’d look so different from all the other guys. Outside of Bobby and one of the Mikes (who were both quite large), the rest of my friends were at least double my size. Even Jared, the former fitness nut, had to be over 400 pounds.

The tables in front of them were loaded up with an obscene amount of food, plus dozens of empty dishes. Who knows how long they’d all been here stuffing their faces.

I waved to everyone, trying to hide my confusion.

Eugene slapped me on the back. “Look how skinny he got over the years!”

“Don’t be rude,” Logan shouted from the table.

“You still look great!” Bobby shouted at me through a mouthful of mashed potatoes (I think).

Still?

I still looked great?

Have you ever seen that Twilight Zone episode where a woman gets an operation because she looks so hideous. But when the doctors take the bandages off her face, she’s actually beautiful and everyone else looks like mutants? “Eye of the Beholder,” I think it’s called.

This felt like that. I’d somehow entered a world where obesity was normal and healthy people were freaks.

Lonny and Frankie waddled over to the tables to join in on the feast. They couldn’t hold back any longer.

Eugene, his hand still on my back, started leading me to the food. “Come on, Phillip. Let’s see what you can do.”

That’s when I finally had enough. I couldn’t ignore the many elephants in the room anymore. “What the hell is going on?”

“Lunch,” Eugene said as he plopped onto the bench next to the Mikes.

I didn’t sit. “Seriously. Why is everyone here so… so… big?” I stopped myself from saying fat.

Logan, probably the biggest guy there, patted his belly shelf. “We live in Moulton.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

A few of the guys started talking at once. Eventually, everyone got quiet except Logan, who said, “Why don’t you ask Jacob?”

“Yeah! Ask Jacob!” Mike L. agreed.

I’d completely forgotten about Jacob. He was the main reason I came, and yet I hadn’t realized until Mike said his name that he was the only guy missing. “Where is he?”

“The dorms,” Eugene answered. “Cabin 4.”

“That’s where I’m staying.”

“Well, yeah,” Trainwreck Tony said as he waddled into the door behind me. “He headed over there as soon as I told him you’d gotten here. He’s waiting.”

“Oh, um, okay.” I walked past Tony, ready to rush out of there.

One of the guys called out to me. “Eat something before you go.”

But I didn’t stop. I needed answers. And more importantly, I needed to see what had become of Jacob.

Read Part 2 tomorrow.

[roomwithanopenfire]

Stats Sunday

(no banner today bc my laptop sometimes does this weird thing where it won't let me upload files and i don't feel like restarting it rn)

Hi! Thanks to @brilla-brilla-estrellita for the tag!

April has been a weird month for writing, but sharing my graphs and stuff is always fun for me (and hopefully you) even though I didn't work on like ANY of my preexisiting wips last month. As always, this post is long, expect stats, graphs, and musings under the cut. (No snippets today tho)

I posted zero fics in April which is understandable given that I have been SO busy lately with school and stuff.

Total words written for April: 22725 (this is the most words i've written in any month this year so far....)

Days I met my writing goal (200 words): 11

Days I didn't write or edit anything: 18 (this month has def been the worst month in terms of consistency bahaha)

Day I wrote the most: Apr 18th with 5957 words (this is the highest daily word count of the year, very abnormal for me, i went insane for a couple of days)

Number of Fics worked on: 1 fic plus one scrapped idea (LITERALLY ONLY 1 FIC AND IT'S NOT ANY OF MY WIPS)

Daily Average: 757 words (but this is a lie, most days i wrote 0 words lol. check out my graph)

I feel like this does not showcase enough how insane i felt on the 18th. Check out this quick graph i made of my daily WC for the whole year...

the spike is insaneee. Let's see my not-very-exciting pie graph i've created and see what i've been working on

No familar wips here. not either of the COBBs that I should be finishing (last years and this years 😭), or the COSW fic that I promise i'll finish eventually, but just 1000 words of a scrapped project and like 20k+ worth of a shiny new idea. The document is titled GET OUT OF MY HEAD because I was just going to write the scenes that were stuck in my head, but, like, it's still in my head and is getting more and more complex and complicated, but i haven't been writing it as much the past few days and i miss the writing demon that was inside of me, come back. channel more words through me please. let me write 6k in a day again, i miss you.

And this fic is not even for a fandom i've written for before, this is uncharted territory. i'm sure that just by glancing at my blog you can guess which new fandom this is for loll. we'll see how far i get on this wip. i've been writing scenes out of order as they come to me, but now i'm losing some steam so i have to decide if i actually want to put the work into making this something. And I think I do. Despite orginally writting it to get it out of my head, it is still very much in there. Taking up space.

And some life update news, the month of April has been pretty good to me. I got a year older, finally figured out my summer job, and i am getting an A in all my classes (at least, most likely. I still have one final left that I could bomb, but it's open-note so i'm not too worried). I have one week left at school, and then I'm home for the summer. (Which I have a whole ton of mixed feelings about. I love being home, but I also feel so much more me when I'm at school. But I'm excited to be making money again omggg.) also just yesterday the girl i have a crush on asked me out so eeeeee. very exciting

tags and hellos

@alexalexinii @aristocratic-otter @argumentativeantitheticalg @artsyunderstudy @arthurkko

@blackberrysummerblog @best--dress @bookishbroadwayandblind @bookish-bogwitch @the-beard-of-edward-teach

@cccloudsss @confused-bi-queer @cutestkilla @drowninginships @facewithoutheart

@emeryhall @fiend-for-culture @hushed-chorus @iamamythologicalcreature @ileadacharmedlife

@theimpossibledemon @jyae23 @larkral @lovelyladzzzz @lovelettersto-mars

@m1ndwinder @monbons @nausikaaa @noblecorgi @orange-peony

@prettygoododds @raenestee @rimeswithpurple @run-for-chamo-miles @rbkzz

@shrekgogurt @simonscones @skeedelvee @supercutedinosaurs @sweetronancer

@talentpiper11 @thewholelemon @valeffelees @youarenevertooold @you-remind-me-of-the-babe 

please let me know if you'd rather not be tagged in just stats with no writing. or if you'd rather not be tagged at all. no hard feelings if you'd rather not get the notif <3

[arrowheadedbitch]

I'm going to respond to your rapid fire questions here

@arrowheadedbitch I need this fic immediately omgg. So rapid fire questions, do any civilian’s have any ideas??? Did any of them feel a shift or something when the drakes became jersey’s protectors??? Or when Tim did?? Did Tim parents give him any training on how to be a protector??? How does Tim describe himself? How does he feel about probably being the last of his species?? Is there a possibility that anyone could find out about him like Constantine or Zatanna?? How often does he use his powers??? Is the timeline any different bc of him??? If so what changed? Does he ever wish he wasn’t a protector???? How much angst we talking in this au

The civilians don't know, Janet and Jack moved to Jersey and had Tim a LONG time ago, this isn't like a new deal, Tim is a couple hundred years old in this, so they wouldn't have felt it, no, Tim grew into his role as his parents died, he started as just protector of the Gotham area, his reach grew when his mom died, and then he got his full state when Jack died, his reach grows as he ages and gets more powerful, though, his parents taught him things about protectors but it's not the same type of thing you'd think of as training in a classic dc comic, ykno, Tim would describe himself as the sworn protector of the jersey area with a duty to keep the land safe, he's not necessarily bound to keep the people safe but eh he does sometimes, he has mixed feelings about being one of the last protectors but it's not like he knew those bitches he just wants his mom and dad back, man, yes it is possible people find out about him, especially if he let's them for some reason (perhaps strategic or fear tactic) and especially if they are immortal or would have some sort of information on him, like perhaps a god or a child of a god, (yes I have thought of the implications of Wonder Woman's parents probably being able to recognise Tim), he uses his powers whenever he wants so long as it's not obvious and gives him away, protectors are supposed to fly under the radar so he doesn't want to just be like BLAH I AM UBER POWERFUL, but he often closes his eyes and leans his head back and looks through the eyes of birds, dogs, and cameras in Gotham and the wider Jersey area to keep tabs on his area and he'll kick out people easily if he feels it's needed, Gotham and Jersey tend to "coincidentally" not get hit as hard by attacks as their neighbors....because Tim stops the attacks, technically the timeline would be slightly different but I haven't come up with any major changes, he might wish he wasn't a protector at times but he usually doesn't really even consider that as a possibility enough to really give it any thought, oh there is PLENTY of angst just not in the areas you're thinking. Here's some example of my beautiful angst, he got more powerful when his parents died, he could feel it, he felt stronger and better and just more powerful, he felt them die and it felt good because it gave him a power up...and he doesn't feel very good about that. He doesn't associate feeling well with good things, maybe it has something to do with Gothams gloomy landscape......or maybe that's why Gotham is so gloomy. Real chicken or the egg situation. Tim's emotions can sometimes effect Gotham and even all of Jersey if they are strong enough...meaning he worries that having big feelings will be the death of the place he is sworn to protect.......feelings such as love... this is a TimKon story to me, so he feels like he can never be with Conner because he thinks it would be the death of Gotham, I'm sure you can imagine the angst potential I have going on here muahahaha.

I'll also share this cute thing I wrote down for it though!

"Konner rushed in

Their lips touched and Tim felt explosions behind his eyelids

And for the first time in almost a century,

It was sunny in Gotham"

Anyways, yeah I think I got all of the questions in this round of questioning, yeah? Feel free to ask more I'm having a blast.

Yall haven't seen the aus me and my girlfriend have been making and honestly I feel kinda bad for you

[silenzahra]

Hey there, my amazing spiritual twin!

Don't mind me, I just invited myself in to gush over your writing for a moment😁 You'd better get comfortable because this might be a bit lengthy. Here we go!

So that little snippet from your angsty Brothership wip you were kind enough to share with me in your answer to my ask? So good, I was basically reduced to a little happy dog, wagging my tail and all that jazz, because I'm just so excited to read, no, to DEVOUR the whole thing once it's ready! It's gonna be totally awesome, I already know it🔥

Your other ideas you shared with me in the past? Looking forward to those too! Take as much time as you need with them though, I'm happy to know I'll have so much Zahra Writing to read in the future, possibly and hopefully for years to come🥰

And "Without him", the story you wrote based on my art? Oh my goodness, even just thinking about it still makes me so emotional🥹 Not only is it inspired by my art and a wonderful birthday present for me (and that's not even the only one you gave me! The other one was a banger too!), but it was also an incredibly written masterpiece imho. I've been itching to reread it, and I think I'll do it soon!

And you've been writing shorter stories based on my art as well as others', too, and they also deserve love and appreciation! I'm so honored to be among the artists who inspire you🫶 I can only hope to continue to do so!

Now, I know that your Luaisy stories in particular mean a lot to you. I'm sorry that I'm not quite the target audience for those and can't match your level of enthusiasm for the couple😅 But you know that, at least to my knowledge, I've still read them all, just like the Mareach ones. They're all very nicely written, my super talented twin! I think you can write any kind of relationship well, and I would actually love to see more of father-daughter stuff from you about Luigi and your OC Violet🥰

I love how music, usually your favorite band Estopa's, can inspire your writing. I love how you write the Mario characters and especially the Mario Bros. and the relationship between them. I adore the way you portray emotions and thoughts of the characters making it very easy to connect with them. How you describe action, how you can build suspense and atmosphere. I admire and respect the fact that you write your stories in Spanish first and then translate to English, effectively doing both the typical writing + editing work AND translation on top of that. You are amazing, and I wish you'd believe it as much as I, as well as many others, do.

Also, in the light of my recently developed anxiety and problems with sleeping, the comfort aspect of your fics is appreciated more than ever... I remember when Biggest Fear was able to calm me down enough to help me fall asleep as you advised me to🥲

You are an incredible writer whose works I love to reread (as you know, and so does my phone's browser - remember?) and I'm very confident that what you write in the future will be glorious! Please, have faith in yourself, because you know I do❤️💚🫂

I hope you feel better soon! Now, it wouldn't be a complete Emotional Support Ask from your twin without some hug gifs, so:

I love you, okay? Please be kind to yourself☺️❤️

Mugi. My EXTREMELY BELOVED twin bro. I know you sent this ask a couple of nights ago and I couldn't answer it earlier, but as you know I screenshoted it and I've been rereading it over and over again... and it never fails to move me deeply 🥹🥹🥹

My inbox is your inbox, of course!! It ALWAYS makes me so happy and giddy to see I got a new ask from you 🥹🥹 And this time you sent a long one because you knew I'm struggling with my writing lately... Seriously, if I loved you more, my heart would BURST 😭😭🫂🫂

Okay, your words about my Brothership WIP have me wagging my tail like a happy dog 🥹🥹🥹 Oh, Mugi, it means the entire UNIVERSE to me that you enjoyed the snippet so much!! Dnsojgnsripsapkvsedlñ your words are seriously so motivating, holy cow 😭😭😭 I have to say, even if I haven't touched that fic in a while, I'm actually quite proud with how it was turning out. And... the climax of the story will be even MORE angsty than the snippet I shared 👀👀👀 I may or may not be feeling like going back to it TODAY thanks to your supportive and encouraging words, bro. I literally can't thank you enough for giving me the boost that I needed to resume that fic at last and focus entirely on it. You have this power over me and I just can't thank you enough 🫂❤️💚

I'm so glad that you remember all my ideas that I've shared with you!! 🥹🥹 I know I'm taking forever to bring them all to life, but awww I'm so MOVED that you want more Zahra Writing for the future 😭😭😭 Seriously, you loving my writing so much makes me wanna scream and kick my feet and warms my heart so much. I'm over the moon right now 🥹😭🫂 You shall have your wish granted, bro, even if I'll still take some time. But I'll do it for you 💚❤️

Oh my God, you still get emotional just by thinking of Without him??? 😭😭😭 I absolutely LOVED your reblog and I swear I couldn't believe my eyes when I saw you being so touched, bro 🥹🥹🥹 I'm HONORED that my story could make you feel this way, Mugi. I kept you in my mind all the time while I was working on it and I wanted it to be as perfect as possible since it was meant for you. I LOVED bringing two of your amazing pieces together and gifting the story to you for your birthday, together with the rewrite of An electrical aura. I'm looking forward to writing more stories for you in the future, and I just couldn't be happier that you enjoyed this first fic that I wrote inspired by your art. I'm seriously about to cry that you consider it a masterpiece, like WHAT 😭😭😭 Thank you SO MUCH, my twin 🫂🫂🫂 I hope you'll enjoy rereading it just as much as the first time you read it 🥹💚❤️

Aww yes, I absolutely LOVE writing short stories for some specific pieces 🤩🤩 Thank you for acknowledging them too, bro!! I know I haven't done it too often but I've 100% enjoyed every single time that I did 🥰🥰 As you can see your art continues to be VERY inspiring for me, and I'm so glad you've enjoyed the short drabbles that I've written so far!! Again I'm looking forward to doing it more in the future, and of course I have my eye on your art 😁😁 I have no doubt you'll continue to inspire me, bro!! 🥰🥰

Oh please, Mugi, don't apologize for not sharing my Luaisy obsession with me 😭🫂 I totally get that you're not into it, and you know I deeply appreciate that you still went and read my two Luaisy fics as well as the Mareach ones. It touches me deeply that you wanna read everything that I write even when it's not your cup of tea 🥹🥹 You're one of my biggest supporters, reading even what you don't fully enjoy just so I can feel your love and support. Believe me: I do feel them 🫂🫂🫂 And I'm so grateful. One of the greatest lucks in my life is having you as my amazing twin brother. You make me feel so good about myself ❤️💚

Also! I DO wanna write more content with Luigi being my little Violet's dad and them bonding together and all that 🥹🥹 Actually, ever since I listened to a certain song that someone showed me a few days ago, I've felt the need to write them together again very soon... 🤭 And OMG thank you for saying that I can write any relationship, that's also such a great boost for my self-esteem as a writer 😭🫂

... Okay, your next paragraph has me ugly sobbing, my twin 🥲🥲🥲 You basically praised ALL aspects of my writing, like... What if I CRY 😭😭😭 Seriously, I feel like printing it and hanging it up in my wall so I can have a constant reminder of what makes my writing so good. And why my beloved bro loves it so much. Thank you, thank you, THANK YOU. Just, you're helping me remember why I love writing so much. Every single thing that you listed... I love it all. I love doing it all. Even the translation thing as much as at times I struggle, especially with idioms. But I still enjoy it, just as much as everything else. I... I sincerely don't see myself as being amazing, but I'll believe it because you said so 👉👈 I'm so honored that you and so many others see me this way. I promise that I'm working on it, and your words truly are helpful and helpe me believe in myself. I shall listen to my beloved and awesome twin bro. Thank you 🫂💚❤️

Oh, Mugi 🥺🥺 Believe me, I'd do WHATEVER I could do to fully erase the anxiety from your life. It's not easy at all to live with it... so I'm deeply moved and relieved that my fics can comfort you, especially Biggest fear. Even if I can't be physically there for you, my words can, so in a way it's like I'm actually there by your side. And it warms my heart so much 🫂🫂

Guabiedmnglksd there you go again, making me cry once more 😭😭🫂🫂 I know that you love rereading my stuff and I still get so emotional whenever I remember it 🥹🥹 Your confidence in me really is contagious, my twin, because you really make me feel like I'm capable of doing anything. Your faith in me is deeply appreciated, and I shall cultivate mine so I can continue to share more stories in the future that will hopefully be able to bring you more comfort. Just like you've done with me through this amazing, encouraging, and very touching ask that means EVERYTHING to me 🫂❤️💚

I love you so much, my dear brother. Thank you for everything that you do for me 🫂💚❤️

[okdeannawrites]

The Secret by OKDeanna

Six months. Fourteen hours. Twenty-six minutes. Thirteen seconds.

That’s how long it took to bring Derek Hale back to life. But no one else knows that. No one else knows the ritual he found. The ritual he performed. No one else knows the time and energy it took to dispel the Nogitsune’s magic and release the wolf from Bardo. No one else knows the nightmares he’ll have to face now that the ritual is done, over, and he likes it that way.

He likes that no one was around to see him save his friend, his… person. He doesn’t need to share that with anyone. He did what he had to do and now he’s done it. He can go back to his life and let Derek, and Eli, get on with theirs.

Maybe one day he’ll regret the choices he made to get here. But he probably won’t. Out of all of them, Derek deserves to live the life he wants, to find the happiness he craves, and so does his son.

Pushing away from the large valley oak he’d hidden behind, Special Agent Stiles Stilinski carefully makes his way through the woods and back to the car he’d hidden just off the highway. Thankfully, no one was around to see him, and he’d been far enough away from where Derek resurrected that he knew none of the wolves would have smelled him there.

Maybe one day they’ll all realize the time he’d stolen from them to fix the mess they’d made of Derek’s life, of Eli’s life, or maybe they won’t. But either way, Stiles doesn’t care.

Derek was back where he belonged, and that’s the only thing that truly matters.

Beacon Hills needed a real Alpha to protect it, and Scott had proven it isn’t him. That it will never be him. Not when he would so willingly sacrifice everything—and everyone—to save a girl who’d been dead for years.

Shaking his head, Stiles pulled open his car door and climbed inside. Minutes later, he was on the highway and on his way out of town, knowing with absolute certainty that no one in Beacon Hills would even think to consider he’d been there to help them when only one of them had thought enough to call him.

He still didn’t know how Derek got his secure number, but he was grateful that the werewolf had. Without it, Stiles might not have been around to save his life, and that was something he didn’t ever want to experience again.

There was a reason Derek was the king on his chessboard, and maybe someday, once everything settled down, he would tell him what it is… or rather, what he hoped it could be. But that was for another day, or maybe just another life.

Also on Ao3 (f-locked)

[victorluvsalice]

Valicer Multiamory Month, Day Fourteen: Confessions (Valicer Forgotten Vows AU)

In contrast to yesterday, I rather struggled with the story for today's Multiamory Month prompt (as created by @polyamships). Not because of the prompt itself, "Confessions" -- I pretty quickly decided I wanted it to be another "Valicer Forgotten Vows AU" story, with amnesiac!Victor agonizing over what might happen if he ever told Alice and Smiler he loved them both. But for some reason, actually writing the story proved to be a pain in the ass. I had to wrestle with this thing multiple times before I finally got it into a state I was happy with. *sigh* Ah well, the writing doesn't always come easy! And I'm pleased enough with the end product, so here. Please enjoy.

--

Victor had really thought that telling Alice and Smiler he loved them both would ruin everything.

Not just because they were already dealing with so much – helping out around Houndsditch, fending off the press, trying desperately to help him smash through that bloody wall in his brain. Or because he wasn’t entirely sure he could say he loved them without properly remembering them (never mind his feelings for them felt like the realest and purest things about him at the moment). No, the biggest reason he didn’t want to tell them – was because he was terrified of what their reaction would be. Terrified that they’d be angry that he couldn’t pick between them. Terrified that they’d say he hadn’t learned anything from that “corpse bride” incident (and of course he hadn’t, he couldn’t recall what had happened!). Terrified that they’d tell him that his love was spread so thin it was utterly worthless.

Terrified that they’d tear themselves out of his life and leave him behind as a broken, hollow shell with just the barest scraps of identity to his name.

Intellectually, Victor knew this was ridiculous – Alice and Smiler were both much too kind to abandon him over an ill-advised confession. He knew that they’d probably just reject his feelings while still trying to help him remember. But...he couldn’t quite shake the fear that if he said anything, it would be the last he ever saw of Alice’s gorgeous green eyes, or Smiler’s brilliant grin. So he’d kept his mouth shut, and kept working on that damned wall, and hoped desperately the balance would tip one way or the other –

And then he’d dreamed of being trapped in a nightmarish version of Houndsditch, hunted by Bumby, every door leading to a dead end. And when he’d woken up screaming, Alice and Smiler had both burst in, asking what was wrong and scrambling to comfort him. And the moment he’d looked at their concerned faces, the dam had burst. Before he could stop himself, he’d started crying, babbling through his tears about how much he loved them both and begging them not to make him choose. And then there had been a terrifying moment of silence –

Right before Alice tentatively admitting that she’d talked about this with the Wonderlanders recently, and come to the conclusion that she didn’t mind sharing Victor as long as she didn’t lose him. And Smiler adding that they really liked Alice too, and they’d be happy to find a way to make the three of them work. Leaving him gaping in shock for a moment before throwing his arms around both of them and pulling them in tight, crying now in relief. And they’d hugged him back, and after that…

Well. Now his only regret was not telling them sooner.

[oneluckydragon]

got hit with the echo+sora brainrot so i am once more rambling in your askbox about it. because reasons.

anywho i think there is something truly saddening about echo's struggles to make peace within herself and how she truly finds it hard to find that peace when she is so certain that if the truth about her origins were to be revealed to the world, much less to *sora*, everything she achieved, everything she worked for, all of which matters to her most, will crumble away in a moment's notice.

but the fear of losing all your life's work is none compared to the fear of losing sora. the feeling of poison that settled itself within themselves and between each other out of fear and tragedy of what had happened to them is familiar. echo's resemblance to dusknoir was already enough to set the two off because of how much it had all hurt to see someone you love and yourself turn into a mockery and a splitting image of someone who had pretended to care yet showed he never did at all, but this poison is louder. it hurts to bare, to carry, and to have none but yourself to be its sole holder.

but this poison, this feeling of heartache is different. because whereas the previous pain was something both of them felt, sora was lucky enough to not have known the truth about the person who she cares for so dearly.

echo knows that she used to be darkrai. and it haunts her to have known that her previous incarnation was so *cruel*, all for the sake of it just feeling right. wishing to engulf an entire world in darkness, solely for whatever desire she used to have.

and for how much she knows, how much she will hammer it into her own head that she is *not* like that anymore, that she looks at her past with sneer and disgust and that she will not be the barer of evil anymore, it will not matter in the slightest when she will have to look at sora if she were to ever find out.

how afraid, angry and dejected she would look when finding out, and how she will go on the defense/offense because of how much this will overwhelm her.

because when echo looks at her own shadow, she sees herself for what she is. she knows what she is, be it out of shame or guilt.

but when sora will look at it, she will see a tall, contorting and menacing shadow, towering over with a bright cyan eye doing nothing but looking at her, as if tempting her to make the next move.

and she defends herself. from someone she knows will not harm her. she raises her arms up in self defense from a hand that would never hurt her more than the world has already did.

she knows echo will not hurt her. and thats why she is afraid.

Oh my oh my OH MY, Sinnoh!!! YES YES YES!

HOW!!! IN THE WORLD!!! Are you so good at crawling into my head and creating these vivid analysis/snippets on my OCs??? I've barely shared ANY information about Echo and Sora because I've been wanting to hoard most of my stuff for when my fic is finally finished... but... I think you've broken my resolve a bit, if I'm entirely honest.

You know what? I'm so inspired by your accuracy and eagerness to talk about my girls that I'm gonna forgo my crippling anxiety regarding my writing skills and instead post a snippet of my WIP fic here as a treat for you. A teaser, if you will. Since I have no idea when the fic in question will actually be done and ready (or when I will be satisfied with it, cause the thing is currently 36,000 words and still slowly climbing). And now you've got me eager to share SOMETHING of my fic with you and anyone that might want to take a peek at it.

Please enjoy this conversation between Dusknoir and Echo. The topic deals a lot with what you'd described up above!! c:

[Note: this is an unedited part of my fic because I am still in the process of writing and it may change in the future, so please be gentle w/ me but I'd love to read any thoughts/comments that pop up while reading!! pls send asks or replies or anything really cause I love you guys]

+++ +++ +++ +++ +++ +++ +++ +++ +++ +++ +++ +++ +++ +++

“I’m going to tell you something now, and you are going to listen.” Echo commands with a sharp bite in her voice that Dusknoir cannot fathom ignoring. He pauses and then offers a slow nod, waiting, wondering what she could possibly desire to tell him at a time like this, of all things.

Minutes pass as Echo remains rooted in place, still as her own shadow, and her eyes dart around as she stares at the patches of dry grass and sand beneath her paws. Her claws clench and unclench, digging into the earth like daggers as the wind of the forest (it’s trees so close, just behind them, a looming sort of presence that could engulf them whole) whistles through the surrounding branches, carrying stray leaves of many bright greens through the chilling breeze. Dusknoir watches them dance around Echo, twirling, floating down, down, down… but it’s quiet, too quiet, and Dusknoir feels a shiver pass through him when Echo’s voice finally rings out through the silence.

"When I evolved, Sora was petrified," She says, nearly a whisper, an admission that melts away her confidence and appears to bring her a flood of both shame and regret. Her face twists up then, strangely, like she’d felt a twinge of pain from somewhere deep inside the very fabric of her own soul and was unable to quell it. "She couldn’t even bring herself to look at me most days. At first, my appearance… well, it reminded her too much of you. And eventually of someone I used to be.”

Someone I used to be. At that, Dusknoir’s immediate reaction is to recall Echo’s previous life as a human, as the miserable shell of a creature surviving alongside Grovyle that he’d relentlessly hunted in the dark future. A human made of contempt and anger and apathy, who never smiled or laughed or cried or screamed like the old legends said humans would-- an entity that simply existed rather than lived. An echo of a life long dead and buried. But, judging by her tone, by her voice, by some uneasy intuition itching in the back of his mind like a swarm of pestilent Ninjask… he knows that she means something else entirely. Something that she isn’t willing to share. And frankly, that concept utterly terrifies him.

Someone I used to be. Dusknoir wants to speak, to break his own silence, wants to ask the myriad of questions bubbling up in his throat because this isn't the first time she's hinted at another life beyond being human, but those questions die at the source like a flame doused in water. And always the coward, coward, coward, instead he takes the easy way out by doing nothing at all. Whether Echo notices his surge of inner conflict or not-- the nervous wring of his hands and the tremble in his spine that he cannot control under her gaze-- she does not react.

“I’d take a step and Sora would flinch away.” Echo confesses, her markings flickering with light before going dark and dead, as if her body wished to snuff them out entirely, a deep seated rejection, a self-loathing so strong that Dusknoir cannot help but recognize it and empathize, and his heart aches, “It took ages for her to stop shaking when I’d speak. To stop looking at me like-- like I was going to…” 

Echo grimaces like she’s enduring waves of grueling torture and doesn’t finish that string of thought, but it’s not hard to make an educated guess on what went unsaid. Like I was going to betray her. Hurt her. Break her heart. She’s been through so much already and I couldn’t bear to be another influence in the history of her suffering. I hate myself because of how I made her feel. When her eyes went wide in fear and through them I could see myself staring back like some sort of burden, some sort of curse.

“I am not my past.” Proud and true, Echo straightens up and holds her head high, a spark igniting in her eyes, a glint of determination, a will to keep going and going despite such circumstances and strife, despite this horrid, unspeakable past that haunts her so, “And I am definitely not you. It’s taken a while, but I know that much now. I’ve accepted it.”

I am not my past. And I am definitely not you.

A sigh, a breath, and Echo glances at him with a certain sorrow that cannot be described, a sorrow that lingers even through the veil of her tenacity, "But no matter how I feel, no matter my conviction, my shadows still find ways through the cracks. Every time I think I'm getting a grip and that I might finally understand myself… I change all over again." She admits, sounding more angry and tired than defeated now-- like a mirror of her old self, her human self that had clawed and damned and cursed him, despised him more than anything. "I hate it. I hate that I never truly know who I am. That I have to learn about my past through stories others tell me, or through fragments of twisted, broken memories that I wouldn't wish on anyone. Through conflict and pain and… and..."

"Echo," Dusknoir murmurs her name softly, an offering, a potential escape if only she would wish to drop the subject and forget this conversation had ever happened-- if she'd overstepped and needed an excuse to back out, a diversion, an understanding. And briefly, Dusknoir wonders why she is opening up about this particular information, why she would delve into something so vulnerable, so personal. Why she would bring up this hurtful history when it obviously brings her great discomfort.

And then, he gets an answer.

“You’re lucky, Dusknoir." There it is, that wildfire burning in her eyes again. A spark that’s new and bold and startling. But lucky? No, never. He'd have to disagree, accounting the mountain of evidence that was his life and regrettable deeds.

"You already know exactly who you are and what you’ve done, and most importantly why. You have more than a tattered picture of yourself that reflects broken answers. And you can change with that knowledge. I see you trying.” She tells him, searching, looking for something so deeply and Dusknoir wishes he knew what it could be so that he could give it to her, because he would, he would gladly give it to her without a second thought if it meant they could be close again. But he isn’t a fool, and he’s wise enough to know they’ll never be like they were before. “And if somehow I could change, even as half-assed as I have. Well, then what’s your excuse?”

You can do it, say her unspoken words, I believe in you.

[missfiorear]

Yesterday at 1am I felt like drawing the chibi Doll, why? I don't know, insomniac ideas. (I'll take this opportunity to say that I wrote a story about the Doll on Ao3)

" Abandoned Doll 「Spanish Version」"

Sorry, it's in Spanish. I'm still looking for ways to translate it to English D: But I guess you can read my story using Google Translate, aaaa I swear I'll publish it in English T-T

Here are some stupid things I did in Clip Studio, at least I can use it for something :p

She is my favorite character 😭 I really like her design!!!

[feline-evil]

Dick or no dick confirmation Pickles was always going to be trans to me anyways; if he's swingin' somethin that's phallo babes, if he's not then his t-dick fat. What's not to get.

[seventh-district]

7am, eating cold leftover teriyaki stir-fry for breakfast and crying over blorbos

[kirkwallsbane]

that one post the other day asked about Lavellan's family members and reminded me that I had concepts of rewriting the 'Protect Clan Lavellan' war table missions as an actual playable quest, especially one in my world where my companion OC Enasel'an Lavellan is involved

Anyway i've since written 6 pages of notes on how the quest would work and how Enasel'an specifically as a companion ties into it

[crossbackpoke-check]

Substance, Shadow, and Spirit [remixed, abridged] by Tao Yuanming

[mythvoiced]

“Are you sure you don’t want to join me in Milan?” It’s a question, but from Kang Aeri, it sounds more like a demand. An appeal if one were to put this interaction into legal terms.  “You wouldn’t have to worry about the cost or the language; I’m learning Italian right now and I’m very good. If you’re that worried about mooching off of me, I have something you could do for me in return.”

Casually, she links arms with them, her best friend and her favorite model. “C’mon Hyun-ah, think about it– no dispatch, no social obligations, no rules. We can even bring our partners along if they’re not too busy with their paperwork.”

( AND NOW I AM HERE!!! with the fashion bffs bc hyun needs a vacay and aeri is HAPPY to provide 🤩🤩🤩 especially if it means she gets to dress her bff however she wants :D )

@stillresolved | the 'girls' are planning~!!!!

Occasionally, Hyun will pretend. Or, well, to be quite frank, she does a lot more pretending than she does genuine emoting, which often leads to particularly interesting memories for the people around her.

She's mostly known for the stern demeanor, the coldness she emanates, look into her eyes when she's working and walk away knowing you've met something more powerful than you, at least because the will in her gaze would insinuate her to be so.

But with Aeri?

Well...

Every rule has its exceptions.

When Aeri links their arms together, Hyun lets her drag her in with the feigned eye-roll of someone who'd started considering relenting about ten minutes prior to the conversation even starting.

It'd be more sensible to remain in South Korea, hell, to remain in Seoul. She isn't the most savvy at her own public relation work - exhibit A the reason she supposedly needs a vacation - but even she would wonder, would going on a trip to Milan with a powerful, well-regarded fashion designer everyone knows her to be close to not just make her look...

Disinterest?

Arrogant?

She's in deep legal shit, after all, defamation lawsuits she's trying to start and others she's trying to battle, flounting money that isn't hers via a connection that is hers...

Wouldn't it be perfectly on brand?

Hyun turns to look at Aeri. The look in her eyes seems to insinuate Aeri is being both terribly tempting and awfully inconsiderate for attempting temptation in the first place. But isn't that what she likes so about Kang Aeri?

It's easy to forget how powerful Aeri's family is when in her presence solely because of how much more raw power she exudes. Wealth and status colour the air differently depending on if its new or old money. Sure, not even Hyun can say Aeri came from a poor background and worked her way up, she's a liar but not a dumb one.

But from the ground up Aeri worked herself anyway. Her background doesn't imply the freedom to do as she pleases. When her designs had started covering the racks she used to throw the brands of others she'd wear, they were sewn together by her own needle-pricked fingers.

And if Hyun were to say yes here, she'd say yes to Aeri's favour. Not the Kang's.

Which is perhaps where the real temptation lies: watching her best friend show off with things she's put together for herself, a ladder she'd not only climbed, but also built.

"You mentioned something I could do for you in return," she says, leaning away slightly to regard her with a teasing look. Honestly, she'd had her at the first hint of an idea of a suggestion here. Watching Kang Aeri turn heads in Milan while she upset the deeply Catholic country with her wife at her side, arms linked or around waists, all while said country could not say anything for how powerful her presence was, how lucrative it would be?

Witnessing that with her own hand stuffed in Boram's, all while she could sit by, smell like the finest of perfumes, dismiss people with 'I don't speak Italian, sorry' and pretend trouble doesn't await her back home?

Oh.

Yeah.

Definitely.

"You're lucky I'd do anything for you," Hyun says, reaching around with her free hand to pinch Aeri's cheek, which is about as obvious a 'duh, I'm coming' as the phrase itself would have been.

[melverie]

Aaaaaaahhhhhhhh today I've been constantly experiencing the urge to un-private today-in-the-devildom & start writing for it again

[goldkirk]

as I'm going back over my past history and items and journals and years, I come across all sorts of things, like the pencil I saved from that so-precious memory from second grade, and a pair of flip flops I've been missing for two years, and [checks notes] the modern-high-school-AU-kidnapped-by-a-serial-killer story I wrote in late high school jdfsjdfsjkjlksfd