#no matter what happens I will still be a transformers fan

[jezebelblues]

dress to impress | h.s

summary: in which you're a famous streamer n you finally let harry join one of your streams. (though the evening ends a bit differently than you expected)

cw: smut18+ oral (m receiving), daddy kink if u squint, spitting, fem!reader, unedited

word count: approx 3k

| yes yes i know that dti didn’t come out till last year just pretend 😔 also btw if this is cringe random then pretend i don’t exist fr i got this idea cause caseoh randomly posted a dti update while i was at the gym so thank u caseoh

not my gif. if u have the info of the original creator, lmk so i can appropriately credit them.

masterlist

December 2021 | London

Snow dusted the window softly, frosting the glass and sending melting droplets downward against the pane, dancing in the direction of the wind. The world was still in the throes of the pandemic, which allowed the lines between professional and personal to blur a bit. 

YN had been a popular streamer for a few years now, but her numbers only grew once her relationship went public with the award winning, globe-trotting man that was Harry Styles. 

She had been avoiding this moment for months. Not because she didn’t want it to happen—oh no, she had definitely wanted Harry to join her on a stream, like a thousand times—but Harry had this way of throwing himself into new situations with such confidence that it was bound to lead to some seriously chaotic results.

But her fans, their fans, had been relentless. Every single time she went live on Twitch, no matter what game she was playing—among us, fortnite, mario world—the chat exploded with one resounding request: Get Harry on the stream!

At first, she’d brush it off with a smile and a laugh, always saying something like, he’s busy in the studio, or, he’s still getting in the hang of gaming, you don’t want to see him struggling on stream, trust me. But by the time December rolled around and the UK was stuck in another lockdown, YN realized she ran out of excuses to give. It was time to bring Harry on camera.

And so, on a cold December evening, she caved.

Harry was sitting in the same room. It was originally supposed to be an office, but since YN’s online career began to take off, it slowly transformed into a streaming room. Three monitors sat on a white desk in front of a large window. The one that sat in the middle showed the view of the stream and chat, while the other two were to be used for whatever.

Harry sat on a small couch in the center of the room, his head against the arm as he lazily scrolled through his phone, completely unaware of the chaos he was about to unleash on the internet. He looked effortlessly perfect, as per usual, in his gray sweats and oversized lavender hoodie, His growing curls were clipped into a tiny bun that sat on top of his head, a pair of brown glasses sitting on the bridge of his nose. 

The glow of the computers illuminated the room as she finished up last minute technical checks, string lights twinkling around the edge of the room for a warmer glow. YN adjusted the camera, smiling brightly as the viewers started to pile in, the chat exploding from the sight of Harry in the background. “So,” she began with a giggle, averting her eyes from the screen to her boyfriend that sat comfortably behind her. “y’ready to join us, lovey?”

He looked up from his phone, his features softening as he shut it off. His eyebrows quirked in that familiar way as he chuckled. “Oh, honey.” He sighed playfully as he stood up, ambling over to the spot behind her chair. “I was born ready.”

“Uh-huh.” She laughed, tilting her head backward to catch a glance from underneath him. “Sure you were.”

He placed a quick kiss against her forehead before he sat in the chair beside her, settling in and staring at the center monitor which revealed the chat that moved in an insane quickness. He leaned over toward YN, shoulders barely touching as he waved at her camera with a wide smile.

She snorted, pushing against her boyfriend as she leaned over to point to the other monitor with a smile. “Look, baby.” She said softly, adjusting the camera that belonged to that computer before pulling up the game roblox. She gently explained to him the set up of the stream, informing him that all he had to do was sit in his space and the chat would see him just fine. 

And they would, it took YN over twenty minutes to set the stream up in a split screen sort of way, which would allow the viewers to see both YN and Harry, and their respective screens for gameplay. 

“Oh.” Harry giggled, as he scrolled throughout the roblox website randomly. His gaze shifted between his screen and the center monitor, reading out whatever messages he could since the chat moved so quickly. He scoffed, shaking his head. “How hard can this be? Look at this!” He laughed, nodding toward his screen.

His girlfriend snorted, shaking her head as she pulled up the game dress to impress. “This isn’t grand theft auto or fifa, I don't think you'll magically be good at this.” She grinned as she leaned over again toward Harry, pulling up the same game on his monitor.

“Oh ye of little faith.” He chuckled as he watched the game load in, wiggling his eyebrows at the camera. “I’ve got this.”

harryfan1: OMG ur kidding i literally knew it

ynfan2: no WAY LMFAO

harryfan2: HES ON 

YN couldn’t help but laugh as she read the chat aloud. “You guys are way too excited for this,” she teased. “Harry’s not that big of a deal.” 

He feigned offense as he looked into the camera with his jaw slack, a huff escaping his lips. “Absolutely bonkers.” He laughed breathily, referring to his girlfriend that sat beside him. He let his shoulders falter as he settled in a bit more, a grin spreading across his lips as the neon lobby of dress to impress loaded in.

YN’s eyes flickered between both the camera and Harry as she explained the premise of the game, smiling at his cocky eye rolls and the flood of heart emojis and keysmashes from the chat that seemed to express a collective internet scream.

“Would you like my help?” YN asked, humor lacing her words as she stared at the theme that flashed over the screen, winter wonderland.

Harry cracked his knuckles, tongue in cheek as he shook his head, darting around the game’s lobby in search for the exact outfit he envisioned. 

She laughed at him, quickly putting on a cute outfit with hair and makeup that went along perfectly. Something elegant, a cream colored warmth. Her smile grew as she glanced at the chat, then to Harry’s screen.

user3: whos gonna tell bro

user4: oh honey…

His avatar was dressed in white, baggy jeans with a puffy winter jacket that had a hawaiian pattern on it. Harry could feel her eyes on him as he placed a santa hat on his avatar for the finishing look. The skin tone of the character was still a default gray, completely bald with no face. His smile began to falter as he looked over toward his girlfriend’s screen. “How’d you do that?” He pleaded, his mouth falling into a frown as he watched the timer go down. “I’ve got no face!”

She laughed again as she showed him how to put hair and makeup on, as well as put an actual skin tone on his little avatar. She couldn’t help but ask what the hell he was envisioning for his outfit.

He grinned as he spun his avatar around the lobby. “She’s wishing for Florida.” He said, pointing toward the screen. “She’s dressed in warm clothes but the patterns show she wishes to be elsewhere.”

user5: this guy has got to stick to writing songs

When the voting started, YN’s outfit was praised by the chat and those in the server—many of whom were fans who were able to join the same lobby.

And then came Harry’s turn.

The second his avatar strut down the runway, there was a moment of lag in the chat before it quickly exploded once more. 

“Oi!” Harry exclaimed, pointing at the camera with a snap. “Five stars or m’not releasing the third album.”

YN’s mouth fell agape as she watched Harry place first, watching her boyfriend fold his hands together and shake them in victory as he hummed the tune to as it was. (a tune his fans were completely oblivious to) which only let his smirk grow wider. 

The next theme was royalty, and YN figured this one would be easier for Harry. After all, the man was basically British royalty in his own right. Surely he could nail this one.

But once again, Harry’s choices were questionable, but of course it made complete sense to him in his own mind. 

While YN opted for a pretty gown and tiara, Harry—ever the wildcard—dressed his avatar in what could only be described as a pirate. For royalty.

She stared at his screen, dumbfounded. “H..that’s a pirate.”

“Royalty of the seas, love.” He winked, “captain Styles at your service.”

The chat went ballistic again, loving every second of Harry’s presence on screen.

user6: h pulled out the arrgh 5000s

user7: HARRY PLEASE

They played a few more rounds, with Harry’s outfits growing increasingly outlandish each time, much to the delight of the viewers. The banter between them never let up, and the stream quickly became one of YN’s most popular broadcasts ever.

As the night wore on and the final round came to an end, YN leaned back in her chair, stretching her arms over her head. “You guys are so spoiled.” She grinned in the direction of the camera. “I hope you enjoyed.”

Harry nodded, his smile unwavering. “And what did we learn tonight?”

“That this is why you have stylists?”

He scoffed before he muttered out a no, raising a finger like he was about to make a profound statement. “We learned that I am a roblox fashion icon in the making.” 

She burst out laughing again, and this time, she didn’t stop. Her laughter was infectious, and soon Harry was laughing alongside her, neither of them able to take the game—or themselves—too seriously. 

“Well baby, fashion icon or not.” She said, poking her boyfriend’s cheek gently. “I think we all learned this might not be your true calling.”

He gasped in mock offense, swatting her hand away and clutching his chest dramatically. “Rude. Just y’wait—next time I’ll come prepared. I’ll have a roblox fashion strategy ready t’go.” 

She smirked, titling her head in his direction. “Next time, huh?”

He paused with a smile, considering. “It was a bit of fun, but next time it needs to be guitar hero or something. I’ll wipe the floor with you on that one, gorgeous.” 

The chat immediately lit up again, the fans going wild at the thought of Harry in the streams more often than not, especially if he got to show off his musical side. Some were already throwing out more ideas for the future: 

Play minecraft!

Get this man on the sims! 

Releasing an album simulator (but irl) 

YN smiled again, clearly amused by the flood of suggestions. As the stream began to wind down, she and Harry took a few moments to read some of the comments and thank the viewers for tuning in. They said their goodbyes, waving at the camera and promised to do something like this again soon—though YN wasn’t sure if Harry had fully processed just how much the fans would hold him to that.

As she logged off, Harry stood from the chair and stretched his hand above his head with an exaggerated groan, revealing his belly button and the ferns peeking out from the hem of his sweatpants. She rolled the chair in his direction, resting her head against his waist with a content sigh. “Everyone loves you.”

He smiled, letting his hands fall onto her shoulders and rub them gently. “What can I say?” He hummed, a cocky sarcasm laced in his words. 

“You’re impossible.” She whispered against the wrinkled fabric of his hoodie, though the words held no bite. 

“Oh, please.” He laughed, “You enjoyed it, watching me flounder around.”

She shrugged innocently, tilting her head upward so her chin rested against his abdomen, their gaze fixed onto each other. Her smile was lazy as she parted her lips, “It was funny watching you struggle.” 

His breaths caused her head to jut softly back and forth as she continued to lean against him, his fingers running through her hair as he hummed. “Funny huh?” His tone was gentle, delicate, as his fingers ran down from her hair to caress her cheeks, making her shiver. “Y’think its a game to tease me, hm?”

She felt her pulse quicken, a tension settling around them that replaced the previous banter. “I wasn’t teasing.” She said, her voice softer than before, but the hint of a smile still played on her lips.

Harry took the teeniest step back as his hand fell from her cheek to her chin, gripping it ever so slightly. His thumb brushed against her bottom lip, beckoning her mouth open. “No? Cause you’ve been doing it all night.” His voice was low, authoritative, and sent a rush of heat through her. He tutted toward her as he gazed down at her through his eyelashes, wanting her to part her lips a bit wider. His thumb slips into her mouth, the pad of it pressing down against her tongue.

“I think y’like pushing me.” He murmured, his breaths even and slow as he continued to hold her mouth open–which only allowed it to salivate even more. His eyes flickered from her lips to hers, a smile beginning to play upon his lips.

“What should we do about that, hm?” He cooed as he dragged his thumb away from her tongue, wetting her chin as his hand dropped to the side of her neck. Her own salvia glistened in the warm glow of the fairy lights around the room.

Her breath hitched as he bent at the waist, pressing a kiss onto her lips with his hand still cupping her neck. She melted into it, a heat pooling between her thighs as she felt his tongue against hers. His breath was cool with peppermint, his hair the scent of lavender and vanilla. 

They part slowly, strings of saliva snapping from the mutual disconnect. His bottom lip tucks between his teeth as he reaches him, gripping the back of his hoodie’s collar and pulling it off overhead. His chest rises and falls quicker than before as YN’s fingers lightly trace over the ink of the moth of his abdomen, the wings fluttering with every breath. His hands find hers as he pulls it toward the hem of his sweats. “Now,” He sighs heavily, watching her through half-lidded eyes, “be good f’me.”

She nodded as looped her fingers underneath both his sweats and his boxers, tugging them down in one continuing, slow motion until his cock slaps against the skin underneath his belly button. 

Her eyes find his, to which he grabs her chin once again, jerking it to face upward toward him. He leaned down as her lips parted, kissing her hungrily before pulling her bottom lip down gently. “Open.” He muttered, watching as she held her tongue out for him. She watched as his lips curled before spitting onto her tongue, saliva drooling from his lips to pool onto her tongue. 

She could feel her heartbeat in her core as he straightened back up, especially when he combed his digits through her hair and gripped as he reached the crown of her scalp. With her tongue still out, she neared the head of his cock—slick with precum already and the prettiest shade of pink. She swirled around the slit, watching through her eyelashes as his jaw clenched shut, a heavy exhale falling from his nose.

Her lips formed an ‘o’ as she enveloped the tip completely, closing her eyes as she savored the taste of him. She started off slow as she bobbed up and down his length, closing her inner cheeks around his cock with a hum. “Fuck.” He grunted, tightening his grip on her locks as he bucked his hips slightly. YN wrapped her hand around his length as her lips fell from his tip with a wet pop. She spat onto his cock, stroking him as she dipped her head down toward his balls, lapping and gently sucking the skin there, which had him tilt his head back in pleasure. Veins were more prominent in his neck as he groaned, the coil in his belly tightening. “Such a good girl.” He moaned softly as she wrapped her lips around his cock again, taking him deeper, her throat convulsing around the head that swelled with the threat of release. “Taking daddy’s cock so good.”

She hummed again, the reverberation causing his toes to curl against the carpet. He gathered her hair into a makeshift ponytail in his fist, guiding her movements as moans continued to fall from his lips. She could feel him begin to twitch in her throat as she gagged on his length, his movements sloppy. She could feel his quickened breaths from the way his lower abdomen fluttered against her forehead. “M’close baby–” He grunted, loosening his grip on her hair only slightly. “W-where.?” He choked out in pleasure, his abs rippling and tensing under the glow of the fairy lights, glistening from sweat. 

She only trailed her hands up his bare thighs, gripping his hips as if to keep him in place. She wanted to taste him, to suck him of every drop entirely. 

His cock pulsed against her tongue as he thrusted once more into her throat, shooting white ropes of come into her mouth with a moan. Her head continued to bob as she swirled her tongue around him, licking every drop of his release to the sound of his whimpers–the prettiest sound she’s ever heard. 

He lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding as she parts from his cock, placing a few lazy kisses along his navel with a smile. He swallows hard, brushing strands of hair from her face with a lopsided smile. “I could get use to this.” He teases breathlessly, watching as his girlfriend shrugged his pants back up his long legs with a grin. 

She stood from her chair, pulling Harry into a kiss. His tongue brushes past her lips, his knees weak at the taste of himself mingled with her saliva. She hums against him, cupping his cheek as she parts. “Don’t get use to it, pretty boy. You still sucked.”

He laughed, his cheeks flushing a shade of pink as he shot a haphazard wink toward her. “Actually baby, that was all you.”

[alphajocklover]

Hi, ummm im an exchange student, im from Argentina studying in USA for a semester, im staying with a family, they are very good people, but also they are big fans of sports, they always invite me to watch football, or baseball, i have refused because im always studying, but yesterday they were acting strange, they said they were going today to the stadium and i was going with them no matter what, today i had planned to have a video call with my family in argentina, but i cant find my laptop, or my phone, also the only tshirt i could find, is a 3xl tshirt of a football team, and my skin is getting darker and darker like theirs, is something happening to me?

Hey there! I had no idea I had any followers from Argentina. I’m surprised my blog has had that wide of a reach. Though, from what you’ve told me, you probably won’t be from Argentina very long. There are a number of possibilities as for why you’re changing, like that you somehow accidentally entered a magical exchange program, or that your host family is responsible and using some method to transform you. Regardless of what is causing the change, the result they are going for is pretty clear: You’re becoming a real member of your host family, both in body and spirit. They’re african american, so the new you is african american. They’re into sports, so you’ll be into sports. They’re jocks, so now you’re a jock. 

You’re probably panicking, at least a little, but that won’t last long. Over the next few hours you’ll slowly forget about your old life. You’ll forget about growing up as a nerdy kid in Argentina and remember being a sexy american jock. You’ll forget your odd body, and even your family, as your mind is filled with playing sports, working out and picking up hotties of whichever gender you prefer. Slowly your panic will turn to cocky confidence and excitement for tonight's game! You always love watching the pros out there with your family. You can still remember the first football game your dad took you too. Or at least you will soon. 

For what it's worth, your new life will be a good one. You’re super attractive, have a body most young men would die for, have parents who are proud of you and a little brother who practically worships the ground you walk on. You’ll be happy, confident, successful, and cool. You won’t have to worry about your family. An exchange program is just that: an exchange. Even if it was your host family using a spell on you and not the exchange program itself doing the change, magic… while, I won’t say anything as cheesy as ‘magic comes with a price’ but… magic does have a sense of humor. Whoever got to go to Argentina as part of the exchange probably got transformed too. Not into you, since it clearly isn’t an exact exchange, but probably into someone who fits perfectly into his host family.

I hope that turns out. Maybe we’ll hear from him sometime.

[merrybloomwrites]

It's Just a Game, But Really

Summary: When your brother starts dating Taylor Swift, you figure your wild dreams of dating Harry Styles are now definitely crushed. But some meddling from Jason, Travis, and Taylor may make some dreams come true after all.

Word Count: 3K

AN: This idea randomly popped into my head months ago and I couldn't get it out until I fully wrote it. I feel like this falls into the category of "Crack treated seriously" lol

Also, I understand this is niche, but as an Eagles fan (pls don't come for me) I've watched the entire Travis/Taylor relationship unfold and just thought this would be silly. Writing Jason and Travis was pretty fun too since I've been listening to their podcast for years and it was a cool challenge to write in their voices

Finally, I took creative liberty here and while I normally try to keep details as close to reality as possible, I've changed some things. So the Packers vs Eagles game that happened in Brazil now takes place in philly, and the Chiefs game on Christmas is now against Baltimore so it would be plausible to have the dinner scene in PA. None of this actually matters, this is fiction lol

Title from "So High School" by Taylor Swift

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

Growing up with two athletic brothers had been quite an experience. Hundreds of hours were spent at sporting events, often bundled up to watch them play ice hockey or attend the late season football games. In your family, it was important that everyone supported each other.

It went the other way as well. Your brothers attended every spring concert, theater performance, and dance recital you were in. They were your biggest fans, always cheering you on and bringing flowers to give you.

They also took time to learn about your interests. Instead of getting annoyed when Taylor Swift’s music would play through the house, they started listening.

Especially Travis.

He liked the music, and thought she seemed pretty cool. He didn’t admit it, but you guessed that maybe he had a bit of a celebrity crush on her.

Life continued to change as your brothers left for college, then moved to different cities when they got signed to two different NFL teams. You missed them, but it was great seeing them succeed.

Jason and Travis still made time for family, even when Jason got married and started a family of his own. You and Kylie became friends right away, and you immediately loved having another girl in the family. You couldn’t wait for it to be Travis’s turn to find someone. But preferably not through his dating show.

When Taylor Swift announced her Eras Tour, you desperately wanted to go. So you were highly disappointed when you weren’t able to get tickets.

And then Travis surprised you with tickets to her show in Kansas City. By this point you had moved in with Jason and Kylie near Philly, but Travis assured you that he’d take care of all the travel logistics to get you to the concert.

You flew in the night before, getting to spend the day with your brother before heading to the stadium. It was weird to be there for a concert, having attended numerous games there before. It was cool to see how it was transformed into something almost unrecognizable.

Being there with Travis meant getting to be seated with a great view in a cordoned off section. It also meant Chiefs fans coming close to the barrier to talk to him before the show. Watching your brother trade friendship bracelets with these people was a strange moment, one you never would have imagined happening.

Through all that, there was one bracelet he had that you noticed he wouldn’t trade. Taking a closer glance you see what’s written on it and give him a confused look.

“Travis, what in the world is this?” you ask.

“Friendship bracelet,” he answers simply, dodging your true question.

“Obviously. But why is your number on here? Who is this for?”

He laughs nervously but before you can press it further another fan comes up to say hi. You can’t help but wonder what his plan is for that bracelet, even though you have a pretty good idea who its intended recipient is.

The concert begins and you have a wonderful time, dancing and singing along, Travis just as excited beside you. As it ends, Travis speaks with one of the staff members, looking slightly disappointed but not too bothered. Once again you’re left wondering what that was all about.

It’s a couple weeks later and you’re listening to the latest episode of Travis and Jason’s podcast when they bring up Travis attending the concert. Sure enough, he confirms he was trying to get that bracelet with his number to Taylor, and you have to commend him on his creativity and optimism.

What you don’t expect is for Taylor to find out about that and get in touch with Travis. Now a year later, your brother is in a happy, committed relationship with Taylor Swift. She’s come to family dinners, you’ve been next to her during Chiefs games, and she’s made it so you could come to a number of concerts on her tour. You cannot believe that this has become your life. And you have to give your brother credit for his powers of manifestation.

One afternoon you’re hanging in the living room while Jason records the podcast in the basement. He calls out for you and you go down to see what’s going on.

He hands you a set of headphones so you can hear Travis as well, and fills you in on the topic.

“So,” Jason begins. “Fans are starting to give you credit for Travis and Taylor getting together. Do you think that’s fair to say?”

You laugh for a moment that this is why you’re called to speak on what should be a sports podcast, before answering, “I think that’s fair. I mean, he did the work but I would say my childhood Swiftie obsession planted the seed.”

Travis replies, “You don’t think I would have found out about her on my own?”

“Oh you totally would have. But I got the ball rolling ages ago. Timing is everything, what if you’d been too late?”

“Alright, I’ll give you that. We can say you had a hand in this.”

“So that means you owe me,” you say.

Jason chimes in, “Yea Trav, your turn to manifest for Y/N.”

“You want me to manifest a boyfriend for our little sister?” Travis questions.

“Oh, right, wait, don’t actually do that. I forgot, Y/N’s not allowed to date until she’s forty,” Jason says, leading you to roll your eyes at his overprotectiveness.

“Ok, but if I were to try, who would it be? Y/N, who’s your celebrity crush?” Travis asks.

There’s no way you’re answering that on camera, especially with who the answer actually is. You clench your teeth and lift your eyebrows before cheekily saying, “Oh, no, I cannot answer that on the pod. That’s uhm. That’d be messy.” You then shrug and laugh, trying to play all of this off as a bit.

While Travis tries to dig and get you to answer, it clicks for Jason and he says, “Wait, I think I know who it is. Is it, uhm-”

“Don’t you dare say anything!” you exclaim to shut him up.

“Alright, alright. I won’t spill your secrets.”

“Well at least tell it to me later,” Travis says, to which you reply, “Absolutely not. I’m afraid you may actually try to meddle.”

“Who, me? No way,” he replies only to be met with an unimpressed look from you.

The boys drop the subject and you head back upstairs as they finally talk about football again.

You assume that they’ve moved on, and you’re happy when they don’t bring up your celebrity crush again.

You’re even happier when Jason tells you he’s taking you to the season opener Eagles vs Packers game in Philly. You’re super excited to be able to experience an Eagles game alongside your brother. You’re also glad you can be there for him in case it’s hard for him to watch them play without him for the first time since his retirement.

What you’re unaware of is the plan that Jason and Travis had made behind your back.

“So now you’re on board with trying to set up our little sister?” Jason had questioned during a phone call a couple weeks prior.

“Yes. And I have a way of making it happen,” Travis had answered.

“And you want me to help Y/N meet and potentially date a popstar who happens to be your girlfriend's ex-boyfriend?”

“Yes.”

“And he’s a Packers fan?”

“Yea, that is the unfortunate part. And you’re not really helping them date. That’s all on them. But you could at least help her meet him at the game.”

“This is ridiculous,” Jason says. “But I’ll do it.”

And that’s how you find yourself walking through the tunnels of the Linc with Jason before the start of the game and bumping into Harry Styles.

“Hello, I’m Harry,” he says cheerfully, holding a hand out for you to shake.

Mustering up all of your chill, you smile in return while reaching out to clasp his hand and say, “I’m Y/N. It’s so nice to meet you, I’m a big fan.”

“Well, thank you for your support,” he says.

“You kids want a picture?” There are few times you want to kill your brother, but him butting in while you’re talking to Harry Styles is definitely one of them.

“That’s alright,” you say, trying not to impose on Harry too much. So you’re surprised when Harry says, “Of course, let’s get a photo!”

You stand next to him, and his arm wraps around your shoulder and you hope your expression doesn’t show how crazy fast your heart is beating while Jason takes the picture.

“It was so nice meeting you both, I’ll see you around!” Harry says as he walks away.

Before Jason can begin to tease you, you say, “Don’t even say a word.”

He listens to you and instead just laughs as you keep walking.

After some quick hellos to the stadium staff, you’re led up to a box.

“I thought we just had seats today?” You question.

“We did. But when I was talking to Mark he said we got upgraded.”

When you step into the box you’re once again surprised by the presence of Harry Styles.

“Okay, we are definitely in the wrong place,” you murmur to your brother.

“Oh good, you guys found us!” Harry says. You look to see who he’s talking to and get shocked to see it’s you and Jason. “There were some open spots so I asked if you two could join us,” he explains.

“Wow, thank you!” You manage to squeak out.

Suddenly you’re realizing what is about to happen. A four minute encounter in the hallway? Easy. An entire three hour football game? There’s no way you make it through without embarrassing yourself.

And yet, halftime comes and you’ve so far managed not to make a fool of yourself. In fact, you’re even impressed by your witty banter as the Eagles and Packers go back and forth taking the lead.

“So, I read about these botanical gardens nearby,” Harry says.

“Longwood?” You ask.

“Yea, have you ever been?”

“A couple times. I went with Jason, Kylie, and the kids earlier this summer. They’re really nice. If you’re thinking about going, I highly recommend.”

“I actually got a couple tickets for the fountain show tomorrow night. I was wondering if you’d like to go with me.”

Quickly processing that Harry is asking you to hang out with him, possibly go on a date with him, you reply, “I’d love to!”

“Fantastic! I can pick you up in the afternoon?”

“Sounds good to me, thank you.”

You exchange phone numbers and give Harry your address, still in disbelief that all of this is actually happening.

The game resumes, and as the Eagles make their comeback you can’t help but cheer and get wrapped up in the game. And even as Harry’s team starts losing, he still stays happy and continues to joke around with you.

When the game ends and the Eagles fans celebrate, you say to Harry, “I hope this doesn’t affect us hanging out tomorrow.”

“Not a chance, in fact I think that will cheer me up,” he says with a smile.

“Hey Y/N, I’ve gotta go talk to a couple people. You hanging here or coming with me?” Of course, there’s your brother interrupting again. And while you’d rather stay with Harry, you don't really want to be separated from Jason in the post-game chaos. So you say goodbye to Harry with the promise to see him the next day.

On your way back home you put up with the teasing from your brother.

You beg him to be on his best behavior when Harry picks you up the next day.

You know he won’t.

So it’s no surprise that he gives Harry “the talk”, telling him that if he hurts you at all then he’ll have to face two NFL players.

You’re hanging in the living room with Kylie and the kids while this happens, and when the two boys come back Kylie asks,”He wasn’t too scary, was he?”

“No,” Harry replies. “Just scary enough I’d say. Shall we get going?” He addresses this last question to you and you agree, more than happy to get out of the house before Jason takes his big brother role too seriously.

When Harry drives away he lets out a deep breath and you say, “You good?”

“Yea, just- Your brother is scary.”

You start to laugh at the fact that Jason managed to actually shake up Harry Styles. But you decide to help him out by saying, “He seems scary, but it’s mostly all talk. Unless you do something to hurt me. Then you should be scared.”

“Oh I feel so much better,” he says, laughing along now.

The two of you have a wonderful time together at the gardens, especially since Harry manages to somehow fly under the radar. The fountain show is fascinating, and you stand together, Harry’s arm around your waist sending butterflies through your belly.

It’s late when you get home, and he walks you to the door like a gentleman.

When he asks if he can kiss you, of course you say yes. He leans in for a soft kiss before saying goodnight, not leaving until you’ve made it safely inside.

Jason is waiting up for you, and as you tell him about your night you watch his gruff exterior fade away. He looks truly pleased by all you have to report and you’re glad that he seems to approve of Harry.

For the next couple of months, it all goes well. Your relationship with Harry flourishes. You get to see him more than expected since he starts working out of a studio in NYC, only two hours away from where you are.

There is one mild bump in the road, occurring on a Friday evening when Jason and Kylie are supposed to be out at a party with the girls.

You’d been planning on a quiet night home alone. But then Harry had surprised you by showing up at your front door, a bouquet of flowers in hand.

One thing led to another, and before you know it you’re both on the couch. You’re straddling his lap, his hands sliding under your shirt as the two of you make out.

As much as Harry had surprised you, Jason surprises you even more by suddenly coming home and walking right into the living room.

Harry notices him first, and in an effort to save this interaction he pushes you off of him, luckily managing to shift you to the open spot next to him on the couch.

There’s a moment of oppressively awkward silence as Jason stares at the two of you, speechless. Without saying a word he walks to the mud room and grabs the diaper bag that had clearly been left behind earlier.

As he passes through the room to leave he says, “You are adults. Just- don’t be stupid. There are enough kids in this house already.”

Without waiting for a reply he leaves the house. After another moment you and Harry break into nervous laughter.

The mood is pretty much ruined but you still have a nice night watching a movie together. Harry stays with you but has to leave at lunchtime the next day.

That afternoon Jason knocks on your bedroom door, asking if he can talk for a minute.

“Sure, what’s up?” You say, not expecting the conversation that follows.

“I just wanted to ask how things are going between you and Harry,” he says.

“Oh! Good! Yea, things are going well. I really like him,” you answer.

“And you’re being safe?”

“Oh my god, Jason! We are not having this conversation,” you say as your cheeks warm at the implication.

“Well you’re living in my house, I just, you know. I feel responsible for your well being.”

“I’m safe. Very safe. You don’t have to worry.” You hope your words will convince him to drop the topic.

“And you trust him? Cause I mean, he’s a big time Popstar. Bet he’s broken a fair number of hearts before.”

You find yourself needing to defend Harry and ask, “Have you had this conversation with Travis about Taylor?”

“Fair point,” he concedes. “I just don’t want you getting hurt. You’re sure about him?”

“I am.”

“Okay then. That’s what matters. I’m only looking out for you.”

“I know. But Harry and I are happy. I promise.”

With that smoothed over, the next few weeks continue drama free.

And then comes Christmas.

Due to scheduling, Harry had yet to meet Travis. You’ve talked to your brother about him, and you know Travis has talked about all of this with Taylor. So while you’ve been told that it’s no big deal that your boyfriend and your brother’s girlfriend are exes, you’re still a bit nervous for Christmas dinner.

It’s a late meal, since you have to wait for Travis to get there after the Chiefs vs Ravens game, and you spend the afternoon entertaining your nieces and helping prepare the food.

Finally Travis and Taylor arrive, and for a moment you can’t help but feel self conscious. The room is full of NFL players and international pop stars. You excuse yourself to the kitchen for a moment to collect yourself. When you walk back to the living room, Harry greets you with the biggest smile, and those feelings of self doubt melt away. Because those big accomplishments and accolades aren’t what matter to him. What he cares about is how kind you are, how fun and loving you are. He wraps an arm around your shoulders, pressing a kiss to your head and you blush knowing your whole family is watching.

But looking up at them you see nothing but support. Your mom is practically glowing seeing all her children with their significant others, and quickly organizes a family picture.

It takes some time to get all three of the little girls to cooperate, and by the time the photo is taken, dinner is ready.

There is something surreal at seeing Harry and Taylor pass the potatoes or bread basket, never having imagined this is how your life would turn out.

But that night, as you all agree to break the internet by posting the family picture, you know you wouldn’t want it any other way.

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

AN: I wrote the first half of this as the Eagles lost to the Commanders, thus breaking a 10 game win streak soooo that was a bummer.

I wrote the ending after watching the Eagles beat the Cowboys, so at least that turned back around!

I think this may be the silliest thing I’ve ever written.

[jessejaredstories]

Craving

“Alright, I should have everything I need now.”

In the early morning light, a 20 something year old man by the name of Mike was ruffling around with a drawstring bag. He plucked various items out of the bag and laid them out on his bed. A lighter, a piece of red yarn, a picture of his gay half brother Ricky, a few strands of his hair, and a freshly sharpened pencil. A sly grin spread across Mike’s face as he looked over the materials.

He then pulled out a large, folded piece of old parchment paper. The paper was a dark yellow in color due to its old age. Mike carefully unfolded the parchment and read it to himself.

“Inscribed on this scroll is a powerful spell to take over another living creature’s body as your own vessel…”

Mike read through the scroll, although he skimmed through most of the warnings and potential side effects section. He only really started focusing once he made it to the instructions section. He laid out the paper to his side and began to execute the instructions step by step. First, he wrapped the red string around the pencil and tied it into a knot. Next, he tied the hair around the eraser of the pencil. Then, he used the lighter to set the eraser on fire. He waited until the flame engulfed the entire tip of the pencil. Once it was properly ablaze, Mike could carry out the very last step to the spell. Write his target’s name on the parchment paper three times, write his own name, and then draw an arrow connecting the two.

Richard Valenzuela, Richard Valenzuela, Richard Valenzuela…

Although only the eraser was on fire, Mike felt as though his entire hand was burning as he wrote. The fire grew stronger just as Mike wrote the last few letters. Once the deed was done, the fire quickly slithered down the length of the pencil. It nearly reached Mike’s hand, but he was able to throw it just in time. The pencil disintegrated into ashes within a matter of seconds as it flew across the bedroom. Mike groaned. He knew he’d have to clean that up later. 

But regardless of the mess, Mike was smiling on the inside. He had successfully performed the spell! But now he wasn’t sure what exactly he was supposed to do next. Mike sat on his bed, waiting for something to happen, until suddenly he felt an intense wave of nausea overcome him. His forehead was throbbing as he tried to endure the vertigo. Mike fell back on his bed while gripping his head. His vision went to black while he laid on his bed, completely unable to move.

When Mike came to, he found himself transformed. He was no longer a human being but rather a floating, translucent ball of white smoke. But that wasn’t the only major change Mike went through, he had somehow teleported too. Mike wasn’t in a bedroom anymore, and from what he could gather from his surroundings, he seemed to be underneath the driver’s seat in a car. Mike was also able to guess who the car belonged to. Although he lacked a proper nose now, he was still able to pick up on the strong smell of musk hanging in the air. He had a pretty good hunch on whose car he was in thanks to the smell.

“What the fuck is that…” 

Mike heard someone above him talking. That confirmed his hunch- he was in his brother Ricky’s car now.

Mike watched as Ricky hunched over to get a closer look at him. Ricky squinted his eyes and he had a puzzled look on his face. Mike couldn’t blame him. He’d probably be confused if there was suddenly a bunch of white smoke in his car too! 

Ricky tried fanning the smoke out with his hand but to no avail. Growing annoyed, Ricky decided to roll down the windows. But as he did so, Mike started gravitating upwards towards him. He was floating at eye level with his brother. The smoke emanating from his core was really starting to fill up the car now, faster than Ricky could fan it out. Mike willed the smoke to go inside of Ricky through his nostrils. Ricky coughed and gagged as he accidentally inhaled some of it. Ricky hunched over as he went into a full blown coughing fit while Mike continued spewing his smoky life essence all over him. Slowly but surely, Mike’s soul was trickling into Ricky’s body. Within the next minute, Ricky had enough of Mike inside of his body for him to start taking control. Mike wasted no time in exercising his new vessel.

Let me in!

On Mike’s command, Ricky threw his head back with his mouth hanging wide open. Mike then swiftly moved inside his mouth. Once inside, Mike began releasing smoke at neck breaking speed. Ricky’s eyes dilated and his cheeks puffed out as he swallowed mouthfuls of mist. Mike could feel his presence growing inside of Ricky’s body. Each and every cell in Ricky’s body was getting taken over by his soul. From his thick thighs to his muscular arms, from his fingertips to his facial muscles, every part of Ricky’s body was relinquishing control over to its new owner. Within seconds Mike suddenly had the ability to feel again! He moved Ricky’s hand over to his crotch and grabbed his cock. He began massaging his member, causing it to grow harder and longer as he did so.

“Mmm…! Ack!! Mmmmm…!! Ohhh…” Ricky moaned in between groans. Despite gagging, Mike could feel how much pleasure Ricky’s body was in while possessing him.

Yeah, you like that you little cum slut? You like it when I use your hands to stroke your cock? Let me in then! Let me take over your body all the way!!

Ricky relaxed his throat muscles, which allowed Mike to roll the core of his soul down his throat. Ricky’s chest puffed out as he swallowed the last piece of Mike’s soul with a loud gulp. His face was flushed and he was breathing heavily. Getting possessed really worked up a sweat in Ricky’s body, but it was complete. Mike had successfully taken over his beefy brother’s body and he couldn’t help but smirk as he relished the feeling.

“Whewwww! FUCK it’s hot in here!!”

Mike ripped his wife beater off to let his new sweaty body cool down. He loved the sight of Ricky’s hairy body from his point of view. Ricky was always the more active (both physically and sexually) of the two brothers. Mike decided to take over Ricky’s body

He leaned over to his hairy armpit and took a deep whiff of his ripe pit smell. His pits had just the right blend of deodorant, natural musk, and just a touch of body odor to create a scent that was truly intoxicating. Mike couldn’t stand how smelly his brother could get. Yet for some reason, Mike simply couldn’t get enough of his musk while possessing Ricky. It must’ve been Ricky’s gay thoughts invading Mike’s soul. Mike wanted to restrain himself, but he just couldn’t! He wanted/needed more! He was letting out guttural moans with each sniff he took of his dank pits. 

“Mmmm, fuckk yeahhh…”

Mike couldn’t help himself. His fully erect cock formed a tent in his pants, practically ready to explode through the fabric! His dick was sensitive to the touch. It was like electric shocks ran through his body as he rubbed his throbbing member. His hands reached down to his pants and yanked them down in one smooth motion, causing his cock to spring up once it was free. 

“Wheww goddamn, Big Bro!!” Mike was impressed by the sight of his brother’s hefty dick coupled with a set of low hanging, hairy balls. Although it was slightly shorter than his own, Mike couldn’t deny that in terms of girth, Ricky had him beat. 

Mike purred as he wrapped his hand around his new cock. He gave himself a couple of pumps, stroking his pulsating dick at a steady pace, and groaned obscenely loudly. Ricky’s cock was still hypersensitive from being possessed. Mike wanted to edge for a while, but with how good and warm he felt just wrapping a hand around his junk, it quickly became clear to him that he wasn’t going to last very much longer. 

With that thought in mind, Mike went ahead and jerked off at full force. He quickened his stroking speed while pinching his nipple with his free hand, all while moaning out loud in his car in public without a care in the world. His breathing became shorter and labored, the warmness in his face and groin area grew warmer, the pressure in his twitching cock became unbearable. 

“Agh! Ah!! Urghhhhh fuckkkkkk!!!” Mike let out a guttural groan as ropes of warm cum came shooting out of him like a geyser. 

He was panting for breath by the time he finished cumming. Mike looked down at himself and grinned. The sight of his brother’s stolen body covered in sweat and cum was getting him aroused again even despite having just finished mere moments ago. He rubbed down the sweat and cum into his pores. Mike loved the feel of Ricky’s chest hair on his fingers. He gave his perky yet firm set of tits a quick flex, just for fun. 

Once he was satisfied, Mike finished cleaning up after himself. The post nut clarity was kicking in, it occurred to Mike that he was still in public and without clothes now that he tore everything he was wearing apart. 

Mike drove back to his brother’s place. He had to use his hands to cover up his junk to avoid flashing the neighbors, but he made it back home safe and sound. Mike went ahead and took a quick shower before putting on clean clothes. Once done, Mike was ready to go out with his brother’s body for a day of fun, but the possession fatigue had caught up to him. Mike was exhausted! He decided to lay down for a quick cat nap. Mike threw himself into Ricky’s bed with his ass perked up (because why wouldn’t he now that he had a fat ass?) and fell asleep. 

Later that same day…

Without meaning to, Mike accidentally napped most of the day away. Mike woke up to the sight of the sun starting to set. He must have been even more tired than he realized, but that didn’t matter to Mike. At least he was well rested for a night out now!

Mike let out a big yawn while he scratched his chest. At first, he didn’t notice the sudden lack of chest hair because he was still waking up. But as soon as it registered how smooth his chest was, Mike went into a panic. His eyes shot down and surely enough, he was back in his own body. Mike was disappointed, but now that he was out of Ricky’s body, he was free to possess someone else!

Or so Mike thought. He thought he wanted to possess someone else, but his mind went straight back to Ricky when he thought about who to possess next. Mike couldn’t explain why but he craved being back inside of Ricky’s beefy body. All of his body hair… How thick every part of his body was… How good it felt to jerk off that cock… How sweet his cum tasted… It was no use. Mike was hooked on Ricky’s body. He needed to possess him again!

Mike hopped out of bed, ready to perform the magic spell on Ricky again. However, he didn’t notice that Ricky was waiting for him just outside the bedroom door. He nearly screamed when he almost ran into him.

“Morning, Lil Bro,”

“Oh- Hey, Rick! How long have you been standing there…?” Mike said sheepishly.

“Possess me again.”

“Wha-” 

Ricky practically threw himself to Mike’s feet. Naturally, it caught Mike off guard.

“PLEASE possess me again, Lil Bro!! I know you were inside of me. I don’t care how or why you did it, just please do it again! I never knew how good I could feel until I felt what it’s like having a man inside of my body! Please, Bro! I feel so empty without you inside of me! Please possess me again!!”

Ricky was panting and drooling like a hungry dog. Mike wasn’t sure how to react at first. He almost wanted to tell Ricky off right then and there, but then something caught his attention. As Ricky was begging with his head to the floor, he had his back arched. It gave Mike a clear view of the white jockstrap he was wearing. 

The sight of that waistband reminded Mike just how badly he wanted to get back inside of Ricky. And after Ricky’s grand display, it was more than crystal clear that the feeling was mutual.

“Alright, I’ll possess you again.”

“Fuck yes!! Take my body, make me yours!!”

Ricky shot back up on his feet and grabbed onto Mike. He was holding him in a tight embrace, pushing his body against his own as if to make him phase into him.

Their bodies rubbed against one another with full skin-on-skin contact, but no matter how hard Mike and Ricky pushed, they couldn’t get Mike back inside Ricky. So when that wasn’t working, they decided to try a different route.

Mike was the first to plant a kiss on Ricky. Ricky did not hesitate matching Mike’s energy and kissed him right back. The two men fell back onto the bed as they passionately made out. Loud kisses and sensual groans filled the room. Their clothes soon came off as they proceeded to the next step. Mike spit onto his hardened cock and rubbed it along his length while Ricky fingered himself as a warm-up. Once he was ready, Ricky lifted his legs onto Mike’s shoulders. Mike stepped closer, tapped his cock head against Ricky’s hungry hole, and eased his member into him inch by inch. 

“Ssss, ohhh fuckk…” they both whispered under their breaths. Mike could feel the warmth of Ricky’s ass envelop his dick as he slid all the way in. Ricky was moaning and squirming as his walls opened up to accommodate Mike’s well-endowed cock. Mike started off slowly at first, but once they were both comfortable, he picked up the speed of his thrusts and pounded away at Ricky, who was loving every second of it.

They fucked like wild animals in heat. The whole house was filled with obscene noises. Mike groaning, Ricky moaning, sensual kisses, Mike’s balls clapping against Ricky’s bubble butt, the bed frame creaking and more. But they weren’t fucking just to fuck, they were fucking with intent and purpose.

Mike stopped thrusting into Ricky for a brief moment. He leaned down to lay on top of him, cock still planted deep inside his ass. Ricky wrapped his arms and legs around Mike’s torso and pulled him in closer to him. The two men embraced each other tightly. They each pushed their bodies into the other’s body with as much force as they could muster. Then finally, after enough rubbing and pushing, it happened.

They transcended physical boundaries Mike’s body began to phase right into Ricky’s body. Ricky’s moans grew in intensity as he felt his brother’s presence growing inside of him. Their bodies aligned perfectly. All of Mike’s body parts slid right into Ricky’s like a custom tailored suit. Head to head, torso to torso, dick to dick, and ass to ass. Once again, Ricky’s body puffed up momentarily as it opened itself up to welcome its new owner. With one final hip thrust, Mike possessed Ricky once again by fucking his way in.

“Nrghhh uuughhh fuckkkk…!”

Ricky’s body couldn’t handle any more stimulation. He wound up shooting his own load as well as his brother’s load thanks to the body possession. It was both glorious and obscene how much he came. Mike sighed a heavy exhale of relief. He was more than ecstatic that he was able to take over his brother’s body again. It truly felt like home, and this time, he was ready to last more than just a few hours possessing him.

As for Ricky, the idea and the feeling of having a man literally inside his body was more satisfying than anything Ricky could ever do in bed. And what made the experience of getting possessed even better was having a man take full control over his body. It was total domination, and it was something Ricky loved to do. All he could was smile with bliss on the inside as his hands began moving under Mike’s control again. 

And as the beefy muscle bear laid in bed covered in bodily fluids, a cheeky smile grew on his face. It was a smile of pure satisfaction and pleasure, one that could only be achieved when both possessor and possessee are happy.

[comingdownwithme]

Can we see more of Jeff and Toby also is Ben and Ej I’m the comic of not what are your headcanons for them??

Jeff and Toby have always been my favs since I was a kid, so you'll definitely be seeing more of them!

As for the comic, the whole thing is more of snippets and peeks into my interpretation of Creepypasta instead of a solid, sequential storyline, so not a whole lot is concrete, and I won't be posting a whole, fleshed out comic since it's very time consuming. I'm definitely sure Ben and EJ would show up though, especially during Jeff's directionless wanderings

Anyways, Woe! Headcanons be upon ye!

Eyeless Jack

Jack Nyras is a man just trying to survive after he had been left disabled and transformed from putting his trust in the wrong people. Even as the demon contorts and shapes it's host as if it were trying to fit itself it's host's own flesh, Jack remains conscious, all too aware of what is happening to him and the dizzying, maddening hunger that drives him forward

He's gone from a 5'6"-ish guy to a whole 6 foot something of a man after the incident. The demon disfigured and stretched his body to "make itself at home", though it isn't too obvious with his shitty posture and what he wears

He used to go to medschool and was about to graduate as a Valedictorian.

He carries a roll of surgical knives in his hoodie pocket! (My best friend gave me this idea :)))

Burn scars over his eyes! Hot tar does that to you ig, and it harmed him enough to last despite his new form's accelerated regeneration

He's still sane enough to have morals (or at least, he believes he's sane enough), so though he isn't exactly picky, he prefers kidneys since his victims would usually survive with only one, and he strikes at night when his "patients" are sleeping

He's good friends with Jeff (even if neither would admit it, ESPECIALLY not Jeff). They first started out as seeing each other as nothing more than "easy body disposal" and "free meal provider", but each time they bump into each other, they've began to get along past their perceived usefulness

BEN drowned

An angry, vindictive spirit that's been freed from the confines of where he had been sealed. Even still, he can't remember his own face, so despite his newfound freedom, he had taken the form of the model he had been using during his digital imprisonment to manifest. He now wanders the world, vengeful and curious, yearning for a peace he might never get.

His face is stuck between 2 expressions: the calm, neutral look of the elegy of emptiness (which is his usual), or a more expressive- albeit heavily distorted face- during moments of heightened emotion like anger, sadness, etc. Nothing changes from his expression, not even his mouth moves.

The latter is also a reference to how fans usually drew Ben, along with just... .EXE characters in general-

His clothes are always soggy :(

He can manipulate and change his physical form, but the binary scarred into on his calf stays no matter what he does, whether that be changing forms entirely or removing the limb from his "model", in which case the binary moves elsewhere.

Ben is telepathic. He can choose who can understand him at any given moment, whether it be a group, a pair, or a singular person. Everyone else outside of the conversation could hear only gargling, wheezing and coughing.

Avoids areas where water is usually found in large amounts. I.e, lakes, rivers, bathrooms, etc.

[weecherylita]

Thoughts on the Neil Gaiman Allegations

I followed Neil Gaiman on tumblr not because I'm a massive fan of his work (I've read two of his books, and one of those he co-wrote with someone else) but because it was interesting to get behind-the-scenes info about Good Omens.

Because he seemed, for the most part, to be a pretty affable and interesting person.

Because it was nice to see someone so prominent be willing to assert the rights and dignity of lgbt people, and most especially trans people in this era where they are being consistently vilified and used as a political punching bag in my own country and elsewhere.

Because his writing advice was decent, and he seemed to value and support artistic endeavour in all its forms.

Because the stories from readers talking about what his work had meant to them were a consistent reminder of the power of art to connect us all and transform our lives.

Because he consistently advocated kindness.

(I know some people have been saying he couldn't handle criticism and he bad-mouthed other public figures, but I think I must have missed those incidents - my impression was that he was very often complimenting and defending people).

It was a horrible shock to learn that (yet again) a creator I respected fell so far short of embodying the values he spoke up for. When things like that happen it can make you question human decency itself, especially when it just seems to keep happening again and again; public figures who seem so progressive turn out to be abusers. Is human goodness just a story we tell ourselves? Is genuine progress even possible, when those who speak up for it prove themselves to be so incapable of living by those ideals?

I don't know how much of Gaiman's public persona was genuine and how much was just a front for some consciously manipulative and predatory behaviour. To be honest, I'm not sure I care if we ever find out how much of what we saw was real. He's lost our respect - most likely forever, and he shouldn't be put in a position where he can abuse people's trust again.

I'm sorry for the people he hurt, and I hope they get time to heal.

And I think those values that I saw in him are all still true, even if he is false.

Kindness and decency is still something to live by, even and especially in times of darkness.

Art still has the power to move, connect and transform us, whether you want to keep reading Gaiman's works or not (and if you're finding it tough because you've lost that enjoyment and connection to stories that meant a lot to you, know that there WILL be other works out there that can make you feel it again).

Creative endeavour IS still inherently valuable.

Transgender lives and identities still matter. Transgender people are still deserving of dignity and respect. There may be plenty of transphobic people out there who feel emboldened by this, and I'm not gonna pretend to understand exactly how scary and horrible that must feel. All I can say is that there are other people out there who still believe in you, and still want to support you.

Human decency is not a lie. I guess we need to be wary of public figures who come across as too good to be true and remember that everyone has capacity for both good and bad, but not everyone fails as badly as him. Not everyone succumbs to their worst instincts. Not everyone is an abuser. Human goodness is still alive, and something to strive toward and take comfort in.

[hx4x4enthusiast]

your papa prime head cannons are spot on! Though I wonder what papa prime would do if and when he realizes that his autobots/kids are like his sparklings (btw I love your writing style!)

Aww, thank you for the kind words. I love this so here a short story about how I think he would discover that he is running sire protocol aka

Optimus realizes he is now a dad.

Optimus fluff

Words: 812

It was a quiet day in the base, the entire week was for the bots peaceful the cons didn’t try to destroy the earth yet again and the kids were out using the holidays to visit family. Miko was in Tokyo visiting her parents and catching up with friends, Raf and his family went to Mexico for his cousins Quinceanera and to catch up and even Jack and his mom went on a trip to Canada to visit Junes Sister.

The bots used the rare tranquility, in different ways, Arcee went out more training her parkour skills, Bumblebee visit the Griffin Rock stationed Rescue Team. Meanwhile Bulkhead joined Wheeljack on a “space adventure” and even Ratchet allowed himself to rest more. Truly a perfect time to relax before the storm comes again and the efforts to end the war start anew.

And yet Optimus could not sit still, since the beginning of the week his frame has been acting up. It started with the itching of his plating as if nano ticks are biting into his mesh, then his fans and vents acted up leaving him sometimes unable to move from the cold or borderline delirious from the heat. When parts of his frame started to move, like his right leg transforming, making him stumble into his work desk he had enough.

“Old friend, could I ask for your expertise?”

“Oh? What a rare occasion to find you willingly come into the med bay. To what do I owe this pleasure of your visit Optimus?”

“My frame has been acting up in various ways and I cannot fathom on what may have caused this.”

“Well then let’s get you checked out come on take a seat.”

Optimus did as instruct while Ratchet readied the scans to run a complete diagnostic on his frame. With the last scan complete a frown made its way onto Ratchets face plate.

“Well Optimus physically there is nothing wrong with your frame, everything is in working order, energy levels are good. But what concerns me is your spark activity, normally it is in a very calm even lower compared to the others due to the influence of the matrix, but your current scan shows a hyperactivity, like you are in a high stress situation.”

“Curios, I have never felt like this before.”

“Hm, well let me run a protocol diagnostic scan maybe one of your battle protocols activated or is damaged. Lay down, go into power-down and I will see what I can find.”

“Very well, Ratchet.”

Laughter is what rose the Prime out of his power down, as his optics finally came back online he was met with the sight of Wheeljack laughing, Arcee getting a packet of rust sticks from both Bumblebee and Bulkhead and Ratchet standing on the side shaking his head in disapproval, before realizing Optimus woke up.

“Well Optimus, I have found the cause of your well, functioning problems, so I ran the protocol diagnostic scan and in good news all of your battle protocols are in perfect working order, matter of fact all of your protocols are working fine.”

“Then what would cause my flare-ups, old friend?”

“Well like I said all of your protocols are running fine and well- “

“Ha, your running sire protocol Prime, oh I never thought I see the day. Oh, this is too good.”

“WHEELJACK!”

An angry shout, followed by the sound of a wretch making contact with a piece of metal, the piece of metal being Wheeljacks helm, echoed through the base. Letting out a puff of air through his vents, Ratchet turned back around to face Optimus.

“What he said is true though, your sire protocols are running and that on overdrive.”

That day, at that time, something happened which has never happened before and will never happen again. Optimus was at a loss for words.

“But this doesn’t seem plausible I am not with a sparking neither have…I…adopted…one…”

A look of realization crossed over the Primes features.

“The children.”

“Yes, Optimus your spark has formed a spark bond with each of the children and seeing the effect it has of you they, though most unknowingly, accepted it and with that you as their sire.”

“When are the children coming back?”

“Soon Optimus, Raf is as far as I know already on his way back, they will arrive tomorrow.”

“And Miko told me she takes the plane from Tokyo tomorrow.” Bulkhead added.

“Jack and his mom should arrive either today late in the night or tomorrow morning to noon.” Arcee mentioned offhandedly.

“Well, I believe it is in the best of interest to wait until all of them arrive and see how we will proceed from there. I will excuse myself then I will see you tomorrow.”

With that Optimus exited the med bay not seeing the knowing smirk on his medic’s faceplate.

[lurkingteapot]

Every now and then I think about how subtitles (or dubs), and thus translation choices, shape our perception of the media we consume. It's so interesting. I'd wager anyone who speaks two (or more) languages knows the feeling of "yeah, that's what it literally translates to, but that's not what it means" or has answered a question like "how do you say _____ in (language)?" with "you don't, it's just … not a thing, we don't say that."

I've had my fair share of "[SHIP] are [married/soulmates/fated/FANCY TERM], it's text!" "[CHARACTER A] calls [CHARACTER B] [ENDEARMENT/NICKNAME], it's text!" and every time. Every time I'm just like. Do they though. Is it though. And a lot of the time, this means seeking out alternative translations, or translation meta from fluent or native speakers, or sometimes from language learners of the language the piece of media is originally in.

Why does it matter? Maybe it doesn't. To lots of people, it doesn't. People have different interests and priorities in fiction and the way they interact with it. It's great. It matters to me because back in the early 2000s, I had dial-up internet. Video or audio media that wasn't available through my local library very much wasn't available, but fanfiction was. So I started to read English language Gundam Wing fanfic before I ever had a chance to watch the show. When I did get around to watching Gundam Wing, it was the original Japanese dub. Some of the characters were almost unrecognisable to me, and first I doubted my Japanese language ability, then, after checking some bits with friends, I wondered why even my favourite writers, writers I knew to be consistent in other things, had made these characters seem so different … until I had the chance to watch the US-English dub a few years later. Going by that adaptation, the characterisation from all those stories suddenly made a lot more sense. And the thing is, that interpretation is also valid! They just took it a direction that was a larger leap for me to make.

Loose adaptations and very free translations have become less frequent since, or maybe my taste just hasn't led me their way, but the issue at the core is still a thing: Supernatural fandom got different nuances of endings for their show depending on the language they watched it in. CQL and MDZS fandom and the never-ending discussions about 知己 vs soulmate vs Other Options. A subset of VLD fans looking at a specific clip in all the different languages to see what was being said/implied in which dub, and how different translators interpreted the same English original line. The list is pretty much endless.

And that's … idk if it's fine, but it's what happens! A lot of the time, concepts -- expressed in language -- don't translate 1:1. The larger the cultural gap, the larger the gaps between the way concepts are expressed or understood also tend to be. Other times, there is a literal translation that works but isn't very idiomatic because there's a register mismatch or worse. And that's even before cultural assumptions come in. It's normal to have those. It's also important to remember that things like "thanks I hate it" as a sentiment of praise/affection, while the words translate literally quite easily, emphatically isn't easy to translate in the sense anglophone internet users the phrase.

Every translation is, at some level, a transformative work. Sometimes expressions or concepts or even single words simply don't have an exact equivalent in the target language and need to be interpreted at the translator's discretion, especially when going from a high-context/listener-responsible source language to a low-context/speaker-responsible target language (where high-context/listener responsible roughly means a large amount of contextual information can be omitted by the speaker because it's the listener's responsibility to infer it and ask for clarification if needed, and low-context/speaker-responsible roughly means a lot of information needs to be codified in speech, i.e. the speaker is responsible for providing sufficiently explicit context and will be blamed if it's lacking).

Is this a mouse or a rat? Guess based on context clues! High-context languages can and frequently do omit entire parts of speech that lower-context/speaker-responsible languages like English regard as essential, such as the grammatical subject of a sentence: the equivalent of "Go?" - "Go." does largely the same amount of heavy lifting as "is he/she/it/are you/they/we going?" - "yes, I am/he/she/it is/we/you/they are" in several listener-responsible languages, but tends to seem clumsy or incomplete in more speaker-responsible ones. This does NOT mean the listener-responsible language is clumsy. It's arguably more efficient! And reversely, saying "Are you going?" - "I am (going)" might seem unnecessarily convoluted and clumsy in a listener-responsible language. All depending on context.

This gets tricky both when the ambiguity of the missing subject of the sentence is clearly important (is speaker A asking "are you going" or "is she going"? wait until next chapter and find out!) AND when it's important that the translator assign an explicit subject in order for the sentence to make sense in the target language. For our example, depending on context, something like "are we all going?" - "yes" or "they going, too?" might work. Context!

As a consequence of this, sometimes, translation adds things – we gain things in translation, so to speak. Sometimes, it's because the target language needs the extra information (like the subject in the examples above), sometimes it's because the target language actually differentiates between mouse and rat even though the source language doesn't. However, because in most cases translators don't have access to the original authors, or even the original authors' agencies to ask for clarification (and in most cases wouldn't get paid for the time to put in this extra work even if they did), this kind of addition is almost always an interpretation. Sometimes made with a lot of certainty, sometimes it's more of a "fuck it, I've got to put something and hope it doesn't get proven wrong next episode/chapter/ten seasons down" (especially fun when you're working on a series that's in progress).

For the vast majority of cases, several translations are valid. Some may be more far-fetched than others, and there'll always be subjectivity to whether something was translated effectively, what "effectively" even means …

ANYWAY. I think my point is … how interesting, how cool is it that engaging with media in multiple languages will always yield multiple, often equally valid but just sliiiiightly different versions of that piece of media? And that I'd love more conversations about how, the second we (as folks who don't speak the material's original language) start picking the subtitle or dub wording apart for meta, we're basically working from a secondary source, and if we're doing due diligence, to which extent do we need to check there's nothing substantial being (literally) lost -- or added! -- in translation?

[pazories]

A little analysis of Solas

I love the fact that in the art book Solas wanted to transform his followers into spirits without them knowing, because he saw it as giving them freedom he himself was denied to have, yet in doing so he only would’ve repeated the cycle of abuse.

That is what Inquisitor must’ve show him - that he must give his people a choice, whether it for better or for worse.

Spirits are stagnant creatures, but the modern people of Thedas aren’t. They change every day, the world changes every day, and we, as mortals, don’t have a privilege of drowning in our regrets for thousands of years. We live now, we have a very short lives to get our shit together.

The time in the Inquisition was healing for Solas and proving him wrong, because he saw how the ones he called tranquil fought for their rights, their lives, their freedom, fully knowing that it is unlikely they see any of the changes for which they contributed so hard. They did it because it was a right thing to do and because they wanted their children to live better lives, even if they never get to see it. Sounds familiar for Solas, huh?

He could never unsee that the modern people are people indeed, but he proceeded with his plan for very personal, selfish reason. In his eyes, bringing the elves back to their “original” form was his way to atone for his crimes, but in reality it was a massive projection. He could never undo the abuse he endured, hells he barely even saw what Mythal did to him as an abuse, so he tried to cope with it by resetting the world to its default state, where nothing bad ever happened to him. Would it heal him to get back in the past? No. But he doesn’t understand it, because he was so blinded by his shame, guilt and trauma that he didn’t saw the other way. He had stuck in the mindset of never having a choice, he repeats it time and time again.

But we know he has it!

We, as players, should’ve show him the beauty of this imperfect, deeply flawed world, that still deserved to exist and move forward. As this world, he deserved it too, despite the mistakes he made in the past. Because the ability to adapt, to change, to move forward, to find happiness even if we never get to be our old selves again, is what ultimately makes us human (elven, dwarven?).

This is why I always make Cole more human. It’s an unpopular decision among Solasmancers and Solas fans in general, but I love to confront him, especially in this case. Cole changed, but he stayed the same in the way it matters - he’s still compassionate and kind and loves to help people.

Solas is the same. Still wise and kind and wants the better for his people.

And I sure as hell don’t think he needs his abuser to say ‘you’re free’ to heal.

[deadtired-highkeyenergetic]

Past and Present

A very big thank you to @poetnix29 for providing me with a source of inspiration in the form of one of their poems (linked below). Do go check it out, especially if you're a transformers/megop fan all the poems are rly good I promise you.

I did make Megs a little crazy in this fic but I'm pretty sure eons of war will drive anyone a little crazy yea?

Megatron can't help it, his spark thrums every time the familiar flash of red and blue appears in his vision. Even though he's covered in Energon, both his and his enemies', the Prime is still a sight to behold. The Autobot leader's Energon axe swings gracefully through the air, slicing a blaster in half before tearing through metal and wires alike before coming down to deflect a blade aimed at his legs.

Beautiful, is all the Decepticon leader can think, even as Autobots hound him from all sides. They are nothing but pests, blocking his view of the only one who truly matters. He hungers to know the emotions the stoic Prime hides behind his battle mask, to taste the anger he knows for certain is lurking behind the calm facade. He loves pushing Optimus to his limits, testing the boundaries for that sweet satisfaction of knowing he is the only one who can bring the Prime to life.

"Megatron!" Ah, there it is, the oh so familiar battle cry. The Prime has finally made his way over, blue optics blazing with a fury reserved only for him and Megatron feels special. The Decepticon warlord smirks, swatting away the annoying Autobot who tries to attack him and focuses on the mech in front of him.

"Optimus," he very nearly purrs. Megatron shoves away the thought of how similar Orion and Optimus' optics look when angry and deletes it, Megatronus and Orion are dead now, replaced by leaders of opposing factions who are determined to kill one another to win this wretched war. Still, Megatron can't stop thinking of how the light reflects off the red and blue armour at just the perfect angle, giving the Prime a sense of divinity.

Said divine figure had a deep gash in his shoulder he could have well avoided had he not pushed one of his precious Autobots out of the way of the explosion, and he now places himself between Megatron and the annoying Autobot, urging the pest to run.

That damned selfless nature of his, Megatron muses, once he had thought it endearing, but now he found it irritating. He unsheathes his blade, licking his fangs in anticipation for the fight to come. The only opponent to ever get him this fired up is Optimus, and he's almost afraid to find out what happens when he kills the Prime, but it's not as though he's not going to try anyways. He knows they're both difficult to kill, they've survived time and time again where most could not, and that eases his spark just enough for him to bring his flail down with all the might he can muster.

He relishes in the way it punches through armour, smashing apart metal and ripping through wires, eliciting a grunt of pain and for a moment, he sees the bright blue optics wince in pain, but the mask quickly slips back on and Megatron has to dodge a swipe from the Energon axe. He laughs, closing the gap so that his fists can continue the work his flail has started and feels the rush of air as a fist nearly clocks him in the cheek. He retaliates with a punch of his own which also misses, and he can feel the thrill of battle coursing through his veins.

This is how it's meant to be, a deadly dance of death, a clash of weapons, an exchange of fists, nothing else can satiate him, and judging from his opponent's gaze, the same goes for the Prime. He sidesteps yet another blow, laughing at the growl of irritation from the usually calm Prime and rams into him, tackling the red and blue figure to the ground.

Optimus throws him off with a grunt, but Megatron lands on his feet, fusion cannon already charging up. Optimus quickly fires a shot of his own from his blaster, catching the Decepticon warlord in the shoulder. The Prime doesn't give him a moment to rest and charges forward, slashing open a cut on his cheek. Megatron simply grins, the sting of the wound only serving as fuel to strengthen his attacks and licks the Energon that drips into his mouth, sending Optimus reeling with a punch to the stomach area.

How does Optimus taste, he wonders, watching as more Energon oozes from the Prime's injuries. He's never been one to obsess over anything, but his arch nemesis is slowly starting to change that. He hates how all he can think about now is Optimus, from the way his hands curl into fists to the way he shifts into a defensive stance. He can see the scratches on the red and blue armour amidst the wounds that litter the Prime's frame, the little twitches of his audial finials as he tries to formulate a strategy to take his enemy down.

He grins, but it's quickly wiped away when Optimus staggers slightly. His spark aches and his lips curl into a frown, but the worry is quickly replaced by white hot hate when the Autobot symbol on Optimus' shoulder flashes into view.

Orion is no more, he reminds himself, all that remains is the traitor Optimus Prime. Still, a part of him wants to linger on the past and leave this war behind, but he knows that future has long been buried in the ashes of war. He moves to close the gap so that he can rip the damn symbol into pieces but then a blade swipes at him and he leaps backwards, avoiding the blow.

Typical Optimus, still able to fight back despite the numerous injuries that would have rendered a normal bot unable to move.

His lips curl when he sees the fire in the light blue optics that once looked upon him with nothing but pure adoration and he swings his own blade, wanting nothing more than to split the orbs apart but another figure jumps into the fray, blocking the blow. Other Autobots scramble to get their precious leader to safety and Megatron watches them go, knowing this will not be the last time he and Optimus cross blades.

This war will go on until one of them inevitably falls, even if it means they are the last ones remaining on the battlefield. Destiny has carved this path out for them, star-crossed lovers to enemies, kindred souls ripped apart by the hand of fate, and Megatron regrets nothing. He would do this all over again, given the chance, to see the look of seething fury upon the usually impassive face of Optimus Prime, to devour the look of devastation upon the Prime's face as he rips apart the innocent, to know that he would be the only one Optimus would ever think about.

He laughs, tearing open the healing injury on his cheek as it dawns on him. They are bound indeed, by the red string of fate, whether as lovers or enemies, and neither can run from the other. He will forever chase Optimus, and Optimus will forever chase him. They will obsess over each other for all eternity, never able to wipe the other's past self from their memory, but never able to stop trying to kill one another because they both know the war will not end otherwise.

Megatron laughs and laughs at this new revelation, but Megatronus weeps for the past that can never be reclaimed.

[mikavlcs]

Rebels and Renegades

Pairing: Wednesday Addams x reader

Summary: Becoming best friends with a sentient hand brings many much-needed changes to your life, the biggest being the very girl he arrived at Nevermore with.

Warnings: this is so stupid, reader is incredibly unserious, many attempts at comedy, TERRIBLE pacing, bad writing, cursing, this doesn’t correlate properly with the timeline of the show but idc

Word count: 6.6k (sorry, this got very out of hand...get it?)

Notes: this is trash but it’s fun so who cares. this is entirely for @clexa-is-forever aka thing’s biggest fan. despite my writer’s block, i still had fun writing this. hope you enjoy!

Masterlist

If someone told you at the beginning of the school year that your best friend would be a sentient disembodied limb, you would’ve laughed in their face.

Not because you thought it would be too ridiculous or nonsensical, but because in your mind, it was far too interesting for what Nevermore Academy had to offer.

See, you were initially excited to transfer to Nevermore. To get away from the shallow depths of normie public school and be around people like you. But alas, it was too good to be true—or, maybe, you had gotten your hopes up too high.

Because it turned out that fantastical mythical creatures like vampires, werewolves, and sirens actually weren’t too dissimilar from their normie counterparts. They didn’t care about excitement or adventure or fun, they cared about partying and drinking and dating.

This duality created an atmosphere of contradictions. There were people with literal snakes for hair but also those stupid cliques of popular kids that liked to pick on people for no reason. Werewolves transformed into energetic beasts and prowled the woods together every full moon, but students’ biggest concerns were whom they were gonna ask to the school dance.

It was all strange and supernatural yet shockingly normal. And extraordinarily boring.

The disappointment you felt upon this discovery was immeasurable. It appeared that no matter how far you ran, you could never escape the clutches of adolescent desires and drama.

But there was nowhere else for you to go. This was it, your parents told you that definitively. So you resigned yourself to your fate and settled into life at Nevermore.

Months passed at a snail’s pace. Around the middle of the semester, a new student transferred in. Because nothing of substance happens, she was the talk of the town for a solid two weeks before her scheduled arrival, but you didn’t care.

You would admit that after finally seeing her, your interest was piqued. She certainly fit the murderer vibe. With her pallid complexation and dark eyes, she looked straight out of a black & white horror film, even complete with a black uniform instead of the standard purple (which you were so jealous of).

Temptation pulled at your chest whenever you saw her, but you decided to leave her alone. This school had disappointed you enough, you weren’t sure how you’d be able to handle even more. The decision to keep your distance was made and instead, you let your imagination run wild without the probable barriers of reality to inhibit it. 

Little did you know that only one day after the new girl transferred in, she inadvertently changed the course of your life at Nevermore forever. 

Advanced Gorgon Sciences, your last class of the day, had just ended and you were wandering campus wondering what you were going to do with your free time. You were contemplating going into Jericho when something smacked your cheek.

Pausing, you glanced down and found the offending object to be a small pebble. You followed its rough trajectory up to a ledge on your left and saw something scurrying across it. Against, your nonexistent better judgment, you moved closer and…

You blinked once, then twice, narrowed your eyes.

It was a hand—literally just a hand, cut off at the wrist but still scuttling and scurrying around with no problem.

So, you were definitely losing your mind. Honestly, it was about damn time.

Having nothing better to do, you decided to lean into the madness and approach the hand. At the sound of your footsteps, it turned and…looked at you? You weren’t sure, but it acknowledged your presence with a friendly wave.

You waved back, a laugh bubbling up in your throat as you hoisted yourself up to sit on the ledge.

Once you were up, you saw that the hand was fiddling with a makeshift slingshot, struggling to simultaneously keep it upright while loading and aiming it. His plight was fairly obvious and considering his circumstance, you couldn’t help but feel for him.

Abandoning the slingshot, the hand crawled over to you and started tapping insistently. It took much more brain power than it ought to for you to realize that he was trying to speak to you.

“Sorry, I don’t understand…that,” you apologized with a grimace. But an idea came to mind a moment later. “Can you write?”

The hand gave you a thumbs up. You dug around your backpack and pulled out a notebook along with a pen, flipping it open to an empty page and slid it over, setting the pen down on top. He picked up the pen and got to work, pushing the notebook back toward you a minute later.

Curious, you looked at the messy scrawl below.

Sorry, was aiming for the guy behind you.

You nodded understandingly. “It’s fine. Could I ask why you’re launching pebbles at students?”

You waited once more as he scribbled his answer and peered down when he pushed the paper over.

For fun.

Again, you nodded. You could respect that.

“Well, do you mind if I join you?” you asked, nodding toward the slingshot. “I’d imagine it would be a lot easier to aim with an extra pair of hands. And the accompanying body,” you added awkwardly at the end, hoping it wouldn’t offend the little guy.

Thankfully it didn’t. He gave you an excited thumbs up, scuttling back over to the slingshot while you scooted over. While he loaded another pebble into the pouch, you scanned the area below for your next victim.

Your eye snagged on a vampire for no real reason other than the fact that he just kinda looked like an asshole.

You pointed to him below. “How about him?”

Thing gave you another thumbs up. Nodding, you held the slingshot in place while Thing drew the pebble back and let it fly.

The shriek that came from your victim almost made you blow your cover. You grabbed Thing and hurriedly crawled back to where you were both out of sight, barely containing your giggles. Once the coast was clear, you cracked, pitching forward with your laughter as Thing drummed his fingers against your arm in what you assumed was amusement.

“That was amazing!” You looked down at him, smirked. “Wanna do another one?”

He tapped your hand enthusiastically, making your smile widen.

Thus was the beginning of an amazing friendship. Well, amazing for you and Thing—not for the rest of Nevermore.

The two of you were a match made in hell. Together you brainstormed a plethora of good pranks to pull on unsuspecting students and teachers.

Putting spiders (fake or otherwise) in students’ lockers. Setting glitter traps on top of classroom doors so whichever unlucky soul walks through first gets showered in glitter. Slipping mentos into people’s sodas. Setting trip wires to watch people faceplant around campus and many more.

It was glorious. Your own personal reign of terror, even.

Principal Weems had her suspicions, but no matter how many times she tried to catch you in the act, you slipped through her fingers. And without proof, her hands were tied. So you and your companion were free to keep enjoying your schemes so long as you were discreet.

For the first time since you enrolled, days passed by in what felt like minutes, the personification of the saying time flies when you’re having fun.

Through it all, you often wondered where the little guy was when he wasn’t with you. You hoped that he wasn’t causing too much mischief without you. He was your partner in crime, after all.

Two weeks in, you decided to ask him at breakfast.

The two of you were at your usual table in the corner of the cafeteria. You were ranting about an upcoming Lycanthrope History test while Thing was launching the grapes you gave him to play with at nearby tables. After your rant, you finally gave in to your curiosity.

“So, what exactly are you doing at Nevermore? I know this place houses some strange students but, something tells me you’re not here to learn.”

He flicked a grape with precise aim, nailing a gorgon right on the forehead before giving you a series of taps. Your face scrunched in confusion.

“Babysitting? Babysitting who?”

Nothing could have prepared you for his answer.

“Wednesday Addams?!”

Your voice came out much louder than intended, turning a few heads around the cafeteria and making Thing jump. You didn’t care, plowing forward in your questioning.

“You’re ‘babysitting’ the school’s homicidal maniac?”

His stance straightened, his nonverbal tone somehow indignant as he corrected you.

You gave him a pointed look. “Attempted homicide isn’t much better, buddy.”

He seemed to contemplate flicking another grape, but seeing Miss Thornhill looking around, he chose not to. Instead, he drummed his fingers inquisitively at you, teasingly waggling his fingers at the end. You gave him another sharp look, insulted by his implication.

“Scared? What, no! This is amazing news,” you exclaimed. Then, an idea arose. “Hey, do you think she’d let us borrow any of her stuff for pranks?”

Thing mournfully shook his wrist. You let out a deep sigh, slumping over again. “Yeah, I guess I should’ve expected that answer.”

Wednesday didn’t really come up in conversation after that. You asked a few more times about her willingness to let you borrow her things, but after receiving the same answer, you gave up. Your paths had yet to cross, and you assumed that it would stay that way. But the universe seemed to have other plans.

The first time you formally met her was about a month after she transferred.

It was an appropriately cloudy day and you and Thing had just successfully completed a heist. You were in the Weathervane, both gushing over the fact that you had managed to steal fifteen scented lotions from Jericho’s local Bed, Bath & Body Works when a sharp voice interrupted you.

“So this is who you’ve been running off with these past few weeks.”

Both you and Thing flinched, looking up to see the Wednesday Addams staring down at you and your partner.

Offering a wave, you said, “Hey, Wednesday. Want a scented lotion?”

She ignored you completely. Her eyes barely scanned your figure before she was turning her full attention to Thing, her arms crossing over her chest in vindication.

“I knew you had to have an accomplice. You’re nowhere near nimble enough to properly set a trip wire by yourself.”

Thing slumped, obviously disheartened by the statement, but before you could defend his honor, your mind caught on something else.

“Wait…” You looked over at Thing, offended. “Have you been taking full credit for our pranks this entire time?”

Sheepish, Thing bowed, giving your hand an apologetic pat. You moved it away, crossing your own arms over your chest.

“Since this is your first offense, I’ll forgive you. But do it again and I’m keeping all of the profits from our future heists, got it?”

Thing jumped in alarm, tapping urgently. You smiled. “Good.”

Wednesday looked between you both, clearly unimpressed. You decided to take your shot again.

“You know, the lotion offer still stands.” You rifled through the lotions, taking note of their scents, and glanced back up with an apologetic look. “Though, we don’t have one that smells like stage 4 human decomposition, sorry.”

Again, she just stared blankly. You swore you saw her eye twitch but still, she said nothing and glared at Thing.

“Be back at the dorm by 7.”

With that, she turned and marched out of the café, leaving everyone in her path to fearfully stumble out of her way. Both of you watched, rapt, as she slammed the café door open and nearly nailed an approaching customer in the face.

Once she was out of sight, you turned to Thing. “Y’know, I think that went well, buddy.”

Thing said nothing.

You thought that would be the end of it, and honestly, you would’ve been fine if it had been. You made a good first impression and she now knew you existed. A double win!

But again, it seemed that someone had other plans—though this time it wasn’t the universe, but Thing.

Now that you and Wednesday had been semi-acquainted, Thing began inviting you to their dorm for hangouts frequently (because it was “his dorm too” …you didn’t have the heart to tell him otherwise). This set a few things in motion.

First, you met Wednesday’s roommate, Enid.

Enid was nice. A little hyper, like she was on a permanent sugar rush, but sweet, nonetheless. She gave you free manicures and skincare advice, and even let you borrow some things for pranks, so you hadn’t a single bad thing to say about her.

Second, you found out that you were very bad at scaling buildings.

Due to both curfew and Wednesday’s usual disapproval of your presence, Thing insisted on smuggling you in. By throwing a rope down to your balcony for you to climb. And…let’s just say that it’s a miracle you even survived the first time.

And finally, most importantly, you and Wednesday began to grow closer.

Only by about a centimeter, but progress was progress. And through sheer willpower and repeated exposure, you wormed your way into the tolerance stage, which is farther than most people who came into contact with Wednesday got, so you were proud.

She wasn’t warmer per se, but the sight of you in her dorm was no longer met with a throwing knife, just a death glare and some tentative (mostly one-sided) conversation if she was in a good mood. It was a big win.

Now that she wasn’t orchestrating any attempts on your life, you grew…not protective, but defensive of her, and Enid for that matter. Enid was your friend and Wednesday was…Wednesday. Willingly or not, they were part of your small circle.

So when a werewolf insulted Wednesday right to her face the day before the Poe Cup, well who could blame you for getting a little revenge?

You overheard him call Wednesday a frigid bitch, and he was right, but he didn’t have to say it like it was a bad thing. In retaliation, you and Thing gave him a special surprise involving shampoo and some of Enid’s hair dye that you were very excited to see the next day.

And it didn’t disappoint. Seeing the flash of bright pink amongst the Furs, and a matching flush of embarrassment that was nearly the same color was the highlight of your day.

At least it was until the Black Cats emerged from their tents.

Given your positioning, you were only able to see them once they started climbing into their canoe, and needless to say that the team’s roster shocked you. There were a few girls you didn’t recognize up front, then Enid and, as her co-pilot in the back, Wednesday.

Your jaw dropped. Because not only was she competing in the competition, but she was also wearing a skintight black catsuit, complete with ears and a tail.

The laugh you let out was so loud that it startled the surrounding crowd. You felt something poking your leg, and looking down, you found Thing standing by your feet. You bent down, glancing over to the Black Cat’s boat.

“Hey, you helping out Wednesday and Enid?”

He bowed in confirmation. Nodding, you stuck out a hand.

“Punch at least one siren for me, alright bud?”

He shook your hand firmly, a promise to fulfill your wish, and crawled off to the boat.

The event itself was rather dull. With the way Enid explained it, you were expecting something a bit more grandiose, but in reality, it was just standing around and watching for boats. Boring.

But hey, it gave you a half-day of classes, so who were you to complain?

The results though, were much more interesting.

For the first time in decades, the trophy went to Ophelia Hall. You were happy, not because you had any buried school spirit, but because you knew how much Enid wanted this. Seeing the fish get knocked down a peg was a nice bonus.

Afterward, you pushed through the crowd to try and find Enid so you could personally congratulate her, but before you could spot her, you bumped into her co-pilot. Literally.

Blindly, you steadied the smaller girl by the shoulders, a sorry on the tip of your tongue, but it got swallowed down as you were crudely reminded of her current state of dress. You tore your eyes from her outfit and dropped your hands back to your side, meeting her glare with what you prayed was a straight face.

“Hey, Wends. Congrats on the win! Love the outfit by the way,” you said, trying your absolute hardest not to crack a smile. The large ears were making that exceptionally hard, however.

She scowled. “Don’t call me that and for your information, I was forced to wear this.”

You nodded, not trusting yourself to say anything without laughing. Thankfully, it seemed Wednesday wasn’t finished speaking anyway.

“I noticed that werewolf’s hair is now a rather putrid shade of pink,” she said. “Did you perhaps have something to do with that?”

Once again, you found yourself unsuccessfully fighting off a smile. “I can neither confirm nor deny your suspicions. But it suits him, don’t you think?”

Before she could respond, a soaking wet Thing pulled on your pant leg and excitedly began recounting what happened. You bent down again, nodding along with his story, and beamed at him once he finished.

“Right in the eye?” you reiterated, and Thing confirmed. “That’s awesome. I knew I could count on you.” You gave him a quick high five then scooped him up, drying him off on your uniform and setting him on your shoulder.

You stood back up and saw that Wednesday was still there, staring at you so intently that you were sure she was somehow looking straight through you.

Cocking your head to the side, you went to ask if she was alright, but that must’ve knocked her from her stupor because, without another word, she spun on her heel and walked off, leaving you to stare at the spot she just occupied, thoroughly bewildered.

“That was weird,” you commented. Thing gave an agreeing pat.

Unfortunately, you couldn’t question her about it since you didn’t get the chance to speak with her again until exactly three days later.

It was just after dinner. Thing invited you over to help prepare a new scheme, and who were you to say no to the little guy?

Enid was visiting Yoko in the infirmary and Wednesday was nowhere to be seen, so it was just you and Thing, sitting by the window hard at work.

You tied the water balloon in your hand and held it in front of you, giving it a contemplative look. “You’re sure these will only give them bad rashes, right?”

The only response you received was a shrug, which was good enough for you, so you picked up the next one and got to filling it up. Not one to work in silence, you voiced a thought you’d been holding in for a while.

“So, do you breathe? Like, would be able to drown if you stayed under the water for too long?”

Thing shook his wrist matter of factly. You gasped.

“That’s so cool.” The flustered thuds you heard after made you chuckle.

Satisfied, you went back to filling balloons, but your head popped up only a minute later, another burning question on your mind. “If you can’t eat or drink, then what physically sustains you to keep you alive?”

Without missing a beat, Thing tapped out his answer.

“The misery of others?” You snorted. “Yeah, I guess that tracks.”

Conversation lapsed into quiet as you both focused on your tasks, and your mind wandered.

You wondered where Wednesday was. The hour just after dinner was her designated writing hour, and it was very unusual for her to be missing it.

You hoped that she’d be back soon, even if she only glared at you the rest of the night. Just seeing her would be enough to satisfy you.

Because in a somewhat cruel twist of irony, you were now falling victim to the very same feelings you mocked others for getting caught up in, and even more brutal was the fact that you didn’t mind all too much. Mostly because it was Wednesday.

Now, you were no poet or writer. You weren’t going to wax poetic and spew a thousand grandiose metaphors about how her eyes resembled that of a starless sky, no.

Wednesday was really pretty and genuinely interesting, and she looked at you like a predator wanting to tear apart its prey. And really, that’s all it took for you to dive right off that cliff’s edge into infatuation.

There was a certain excitement in knowing that she could dismember you with surgical precision if you ever went just a little too far, an irresistible thrill to be found in constantly toeing that line. Like walking a tightrope with life and death teetering on a knife’s edge—the perfect counterbalance to the endless loop of monotonous boredom your life had seemingly fallen into before her and Thing’s arrival.

The sound of the door opening interrupted your train of thought, and you whipped your head just in time to see Wednesday stride in with a book cradled in her arms and her usual annoyed expression adorning her features.

You perked up, and out the corner of your eye, you saw Thing do the same.

“Hey! How’s Nevermore’s resident tiny terror doing today?”

“Call me that again and I will disembowel you,” came her cheerful reply. You snorted.

“Uh-huh.” You finished tying the last balloon and looked back up, seeing Wednesday eyeing your prep work with distaste.

“Are those water balloons?” she asked, clearly unimpressed.

“Yep. They’re filled with holy water so we can throw them at the vampires who were teasing Enid last week for not being able to shift.” You grinned. Wednesday’s eyes widened a fraction.

“That’s insane,” she commented. Then after a beat, “Make sure to film it on your cellular device so I can watch as well.

“Of course,” you assured her, giving a dramatic bow as well. She rolled her eyes, and you watched her resign to her desk. Unable to contain your curiosity, you piped back up, “So what took you so long? I was expecting you to come in and kick me out hours ago.”

Her reply was instantaneous. “I discovered a secret passageway in the school, committed theft, and became the target of an attempted kidnapping.”

A twinge of jealousy pierced your gut. How come she always got to do the fun stuff? You quickly shook it off, focusing on the first thing she said.

“A secret passageway?” you asked, already thinking of ways to possibly utilize the space for you and Thing.

“Yes, I solved a riddle and uncovered a passageway hidden behind the Edgar Allen Poe statue in the quad.”

The Edgar Allen Poe statue… Recognition sparked, and the pieces slotted together, some of your prior jealousy abating.

“Ohh, you got kidnapped in the Nightshade’s Library?”

Finally, she looked at you, gaze so sharp it could’ve cut you in two. “How do you know about that?”

You and Thing shared an unsubtle sideways glance.

“Uh—”

“So what fingers do you do it with? Thumb and ring finger or thumb and middle finger?”

The pressing question was delivered in a whisper. It was late—at least an hour after lights out, but Thing promised to teach you how to snap before he left for his dorm.

So to avoid being caught, you and the appendage were tucked into the corner of a small hall that branched off from the quad. You were hunched against a tall Edgar Allen Poe statue while your companion stood next to you.

Thing waggled his fingers and pointedly put his thumb against his middle finger. You nodded and copied his movements, rubbing the fingers together to get a feel for it.

“So I just…”

You pressed the fingers together and made the snapping motion a few times in quick succession, beaming up at him when you managed to produce a few low sounds.

Suddenly, a deep rumble emanated from the ground beneath you as the statue you were seated on began to shift. You leapt to your feet, quickly grabbing Thing and placing him on your shoulder. You both watched, baffled, as the statue moved to reveal a long winding staircase.

Taking in a breath, you shared a look with Thing then looked back to the open pathway.

“Holy shit!”

“No reason,” you said far too quickly to be believable. Before she could question you further, you cleared your throat and moved on. “Did you have fun?”

“No. They were imbeciles that didn’t even know the basics of the art of abduction. It was pitiful.”

You frowned. “Oh. Sorry about that. I hope the next one is better.”

Wednesday shot you a strange look, studying you carefully before mumbling out a barely audible thank you, and turning back to her desk.

Since you were finished with the balloons, you slumped back against the window. There was nothing to do, so you couldn’t be blamed for the way your eyes drifted back to Wednesday’s hunched form. Nosiness tugged at you. You wanted to know more about what she stole and why, and a glance at Thing told you that he did too.

Extending your arm for him to climb, you waited until he rested securely on your shoulder before heading to Wednesday’s desk to see what she was up to.

Lying flat on the wood before her was the book, opened to an illustration. On the left page was what looked to be a pilgrim extending a staff toward the figure on the right, who somewhat resembled Wednesday. You squinted. Scratch that, the girl on the right looked exactly like Wednesday.

“Is this what you stole?”

“Yes, and I’d appreciate it if you didn’t look over my shoulder like that.”

Her words went in one ear and out the other, your mind too busy trying to decipher the meaning of the drawing to actually listen. Finally, the identity of the mystery pilgrim clicked, and you asked, “Why’d someone draw you in a picture with Crackstone?”

Her head whipped over to you, all complaints of you being there gone. “You know who this is?”

“Yeah,” you answered, “Joseph Crackstone. He’s like, Jericho’s chief colonizer. Founded the whole town or something.”

She didn’t respond, seeming to take in the information, but you didn’t want the conversation to die quite yet, so you carried on.

“Outreach Day is next week, are you excited? I, for one, am pumped to do menial work for no pay.”

“No, I’m not,” she said, then appeared to rethink her answer. “Actually yes, but not because of the forced child labor. I already have plans to further my investigation in Jericho.”

You perked up, leaning forward to try and catch her eyes. “Can I come?”

She didn’t even bother looking back at you when she answered, hard and firm.

“No.”

-

“Thanks for letting me come along, Wends!”

Wednesday clenched her jaw, expelling a sharp breath through her nose. This was the third time you’d said that in the past four hours, and while she was able to ignore the other two, the addition of that stupid nickname made holding herself back a third time impossible.

“How many times do I have to tell you to stop calling me that? And you’re only here because someone,” she sent Thing a murderous glare, “refused to cooperate without your agonizing presence.”

Your eyes widened, darting over to the hand resting on your shoulder. “Really?”

Thing gave a shy wave. A wide smile spread across your cheeks in response.

“Well thanks for advocating for me, bud. It means a lot,” you said with a hand over your heart, sounding far too cheerful for someone that just chased a dangerous monster.

Wednesday didn’t bother dignifying you with any more responses, turning back to the woods ahead. But that got her thinking.

Why had she let you come anyways?

There was no good reason that came to mind. You were insufferable. The human embodiment of vexation and foolishness and petulance. You were, in essence, all the traits she disliked in the general human race given physical form.

And yet, she had allowed you to come along.

Yes, Thing asked her time and time again to permit your presence, but instead of threatening his life like she should have done, she gave in with the silent promise of revenge.

It made no sense. You pushed boundaries, disobeyed orders, and disregarded her threats and insults with a garish smile like they were no more than a joke heard in passing.

And only now did she realize that she found it far less irritating than she did when she first met you.

The answer to why was unclear, but Wednesday wasn’t sure if that was because she was genuinely unsure of the reasoning behind her decision or because she didn’t want to figure it out.

Your annoying voice thankfully halted her mind’s trajectory.

“Of course, you’re my favorite Addams. You’re my best friend, the only other five-fingered appendage I’ll ever need in my life. Plus, Wednesday hates me so there’s no competition.”

Wednesday was once again stunned by the inane conversations you and Thing have on a daily basis. Some of the talks she’d overheard in the past months could be unironically described as mind-numbing.

Deciding to have some fun to pass the time, she turned to fully face you, running her eyes over your form before speaking.

“I don’t hate you.”

She watched your eyes go wide and you looked at her with some odd form of hope. The corners of her lips twitched.

“I despise you. There’s a difference.”

Your head dropped exaggeratedly, but when you looked up again there was a smile on your face, making any notion of hers disappear.

She couldn’t stand that—the way you were never put off by anything she had to say.

Enid had the same tendency to shrug off her threats, but even she was unnerved when she first met Wednesday. But not you. Wednesday couldn’t think of a single time when anything she said, threat or otherwise, made you uncomfortable or fearful, and there was seldom anything that got under her skin more.

“That was mean, Wednesday. Really mean.” She noticed Thing say something on your shoulder and you gave a playful gasp in response. “Don’t laugh, Thing. That wasn’t funny,” you said, even though you were giggling yourself.

At the sight and sound of your laughter, something strange happened. Something combusted within her, and the flames spread, licking her sternum with an uncomfortable intensity. Like someone crudely lit a match and let it fall inside of her chest, allowing the fire to wreak havoc on her insides. It was unpleasant.

Even more unpleasant was the knowledge that this was not the first time this had happened. And that was but another in the long list of reasons why she shouldn’t have permitted your presence today.

She faced forward abruptly and kept walking, but you entered her peripheral moments later, no doubt ready to bother her with something.

As always, she was proven correct. “Hey, so you said that Crackstone was in that vision with your ancestor, right? And he killed a bunch of outcasts?”

“Correct.”

That mischievous smile she had come to recognize spread across your face, pulling your lips up at a slightly uneven angle.

“What do you say we get a little revenge?”

“And how exactly do you propose we get revenge on a pilgrim that died centuries ago?” she inquired skeptically.

You hummed. “Undecided but you go on ahead and just let the masterminds cook for a bit. I promise we’ll come up with something great.”

You and Thing flashed her a simultaneous thumbs-up, to which she just blinked. Not needing to be told twice, she started walking again, leaving you both to linger behind. Once there was a sufficient distance between you and her, she slowed slightly.

Though she had just made a vital discovery for her case, she figured this brief period of quiet would be better spent unpacking that persistent internal conflagration that flared whenever you were near.

Deigning to use her tried and true investigative process, she tried to start from the beginning, to gather all the information she had and prepare it for analysis, but she immediately got lost because truthfully, she couldn’t pinpoint the start of your assimilation into her daily routine.

Her…acquaintanceship with you made little sense, even to her. Especially to her. The same could also be said about her budding friendship? with Enid, but that was easier to parse.

Enid was her roommate; someone she quite literally couldn’t avoid since they lived together. But you weren’t. You were Thing’s friend, sure, but that didn’t answer the question of why Wednesday was becoming entangled with you as well.

However, looking at it from a logical perspective, it somewhat made sense.

A mutual penchant for mischief and practical jokes is what drew you and Thing together. In that same vein, she supposed that your insatiable appetite for adventure and her unquenchable thirst for triumph put you both on a collision course that neither of you could prevent. Especially in such a creatively stagnant climate as Nevermore.

A rebel and a renegade—two of a kind. You understood her and, as much as she didn’t want to admit it, she understood you.

She just didn’t know how to interpret the unexpected side effects that came with that mutual understanding.

(That was a lie, she realized. Somewhere deep down she knew, but she didn’t want it to mean what she thought it might. After all, she couldn’t possibly be letting someone like you turn her into an apostate to her own beliefs and morals…right?

She thought back to what she said to her mother on her first day, how hypocritical her words looked in the face of this dilemma. God, how pitiful of a circumstance she found herself in.)

Either way, Wednesday had allowed the sparks to ignite, and she knew that any chance she had of tempering the subsequent wildfire it caused was lessening with every moment she knowingly spent with you in her space.

Part of her didn’t want to anyway.

Approaching voices behind her caught her attention. Focusing on the present once more, she listened in.

“That’s an awesome idea, right?” she heard you say lowly.

Wednesday rolled her eyes. Everything was either cool, awesome, or amazing to you. She desperately needed to expand your vocabulary if you were going to be sticking around. For her sanity.

Wet footsteps neared, and you ran ahead of Wednesday, turning to face her with a demeanor resembling that of an excitable puppy. She sped up her pace, but you matched it, even while walking backward.

“Ok, Wednesday, plan secured. You know what I need?”

“A thesaurus?”

You blinked, brows furrowed, then shrugged. “Yeah, probably but I was actually gonna say that I need gasoline, and matches.”

“Well, there’s a hardware store a block down from the Weathervane, you could get gasoline from there. I have the matches covered.”

“Oh?” Your eyebrow quirked, a grin appearing along with it. “You have matches on you?”

“Of course. I carry a box with me everywhere I go.”

Your smile widened.

Wednesday ignored the flames ravaging her organs and asked, “Are you going to tell me what this ‘plan’ is?”

“And ruin the surprise? No. All I’m gonna say is that you should have another song prepared for the unveiling.”

She narrowly avoided rolling her eyes again. Given the materials you needed, Wednesday had a good idea of what you were planning anyway, and thankfully, she had just the song in mind.

The three of you parted ways as you reentered the town proper, you and Thing running off to gather supplies, and Wednesday, after handing her matches over, headed into the square to prepare her cello.

Unsurprisingly, she was the first person there. She sat in the seat by her cello, languidly checking its strings more out of a need for something to do than because she needed to. Her cello was always perfectly tuned.

It didn’t take very long for you to follow, running into the square with a canister of gasoline and a bag of what looked to be gunpowder. She heard a low “let’s blow this fucker back to hell, Thing” before you split up, Thing pouring the gasoline in the base of the statue while you created a trail of black powder from the statue to behind the bleachers.

Wednesday watched you, the familiar feeling of being proven right tugging her lips upward. If nothing else, your flair for the dramatic was commendable.

You both finished and took refuge behind the bleachers just as people started filing in for the ceremony. As the normie high school band set up behind her, she took note of how nobody looked particularly enthused to be here (besides Enid, who would somehow find a way to be excited to watch paint dry).  

Soon, the ceremony was underway, and it was as underwhelming as Wednesday expected it to be. Just a plethora of fake smiles, stale claps, and off-key notes from the laughingstock of a “band” performing with her.

An explosion might not even be enough to resuscitate the audience at this point.

Once the fountain was turned on, Wednesday sent a sideways glance to you and you nodded, signaling something to Thing on the ground below. A trail of smoke and the telltale sound of burning gunpowder followed and Wednesday felt her dead heart begin to pick up pace at the thought of the coming anarchy.

Finally, the looming bronze figure burst into a brilliant ball of flame, the sound of the blast washing away the wretched off-key notes of the incompetent band behind her.

As the panic began to set in, her fingers moved on their own, relishing the familiar feel of the aching, discordant cords of Vivaldi’s Winter.

In moments, Jericho’s empty streets were flooded with people running in terror as sirens wailed in the distance. The harmonious screams that erupted from both outcasts and normies alike were almost more pleasant to her ears than the song that she was playing.

Principal Weems glared at her from afar, eyes narrowed in brewing suspicion, and Wednesday stared right back, lips coiling into a poisonous smile.

Tearing her eyes away from the principal, she peered through the haze of the smoke toward the bleachers. You were watching her with wide, awestruck eyes and a smile. You only looked away briefly to give Thing a fist bump before turning back toward her, but her gaze never faltered from you. Even with all of the glorious chaos happening around her.

That horrible, detestable feeling in her chest returned with a vengeance, blazing brighter than the raging fire to her right. But in this moment, she welcomed it, let it fuel her as the music reached its climax.

As the warm orange glow of the flames reflected off the raw excitement and amazement in your eyes and her treacherous song came to its end, Wednesday recognized that perhaps neither hatred nor disdain was quite the right word to describe how she felt for you after all.

And perhaps becoming a heretic and a hypocrite wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world after all (though it would certainly be close). 

[bananasfosterparent]

I saw some of the Reddit drama regarding the Astarion subreddits (the spawn sub vs. OF) and it's really saying a lot how most Spawn fans care more about AA/AA fans and being free to bash him however they see fit on the main sub, but allegedly the evil moderators are censoring their opinions and are not allowing AA criticism so they are transforming the UA sub into an anti AA one. It's amazing how they don't realize their criticism actually consists in telling AA fans they are abuse apologists who spread misinformation on purpose (the bride theory) and media illiterate lmao. Yeah, I wonder why that's not allowed on the main sub. Perhaps they should reflect on the state of their sub which can be resumed to "I like UA because fuck AA and AA fans".

Heh... funny I got a message about this when I did, because I was quietly observing the drama when it happened. Well, sort of drama. Really, just the usual cliched "anti-AA person must save the igorant AA fans from their own selves via condescending and patronizing vagueposting" situation.

For context... An anti-AA person made posts to a few Astarion and BG3 subs, challenging the validity of the bride theory with zero context or reason, which unsurprisingly fostered negativity and arguments. They had other negative comments on semi-related posts which didn't make their case better. Then they argued with the OF mods about their arguing with other users and was banned after reporting others out of spite.

But looks like the person tried to run to the spawn sub to get validation for arguing with the mods, but I don't think it went very well lol

From what I could observe, they got a lot of downvotes and even comments directly calling them (and their aggression) out. People admitted they joined to gush over Spawn and their Tavs, not seethe over AA and his fans. It was quite refreshing to see. Even moreso, seeing the mods of the sub create a new rule to not dogpile on the mods of other BG3 subs. So perhaps the situation is getting better.

Still strange that "a place to talk about AA as an abuse narrative" is one of the main focus rules of that sub, buuut I'll take the small victories. Any time people are pointing out the AA fan witch-hunt nonsense as what it is (nonsense), it means there's a positive shift happening.

Unfortunately (especially in creative realms), there will always be argumentive people who just want to argue that their vision and perspective is the only one that matters/exists, and they believe it too. But maybe the direct heat on AA fans will die down or... Die out completely (one can wish 😩).

That said! That whole situation makes me wonder...

A gaggle of anti-AA Redditers were suspended from the site for brigading (organized downvoting) of positive AA posts and comments. I'm wondering if the user who made that rant post is one of them with a fresh account. The timeline kinda match up and they bring up the same exact talking arguing points 🤔

Idk, but for now I'm glad to see normal spawn fans speaking up against the anti-AA nonsense finally. I think it's at the point everyone is just getting sick of it lol

[sgiandubh]

Alice is blocking people on IG.

Dear Blocking Anon,

I normally could not care less about how she is managing her IG account, but I feel many red lines have been crossed within this entire ahem.. episode.

People claiming to have access to her DMs to fans and no qualms discussing them at length. Unethical, anyone? Bizarre? I have many thoughts and questions, but I will focus instead on what I think could be a plausible explanation for this Cosmic Mess, version 2.0.

We now know he contacted her in DM and followed her IG account on June 13 2024. One more time, I hate to quote myself, but since I posted a LOT (never again, for the sake of this shitshow), may I remind you this tiny detail, perhaps you missed it:

In fact, I should send you back to the big wrap-up post about yesterday's shenanigans, where I theorize the sock account is a well-known troll of this fandom. Who did it before and will do it again.

Also, may I remind you this other tiny detail:

Karina Elle is a common contact. It does ring all sorts of bells, Anon, as to the transactional nature of this new rapport.

Last, but not least, a short trip to my own Archive, Anon:

On June 12th, I posted the stills from TS's concert, Anon. It is my logical and constitutional right to believe S's June 13th expedition to that particular DM inbox was a knee jerk reaction to that. Especially when some bitches took pains to immediately post this on IG, tagging everybody:

What did I reveal, Anon? Something I believe to have been organic couple behavior, in a VIP tent, at a public event (concert), in the darkness.

What was the rebuke, Anon? Something I believe to have been a totally lame and transactional choreography, in a VIP tent, at a public event (tennis tournament), in broad daylight.

It is impossible not to notice the symmetry, here.

So, he 'slid into her DMs', she got all excited, talked to those fans, told them she was invited to LHR by him and then she apparently inexplicably went ballistic and 'hurtful' to them, further down those DMs timeline. Timeline which, according to Marple, is 20 to 26 June. The only reason for that sudden change of behavior would be a conversation with S, who probably thought those fans were shippers. He should know by now NO SHIPPER ever harassed the entourage as consistently and intensely as the Best of Fans did. I think mistakes were made on our side too, but not recently and not by me or anyone I know of. Evidence is the fans who were 'hurt' went to complain to Marple, not me or Bat or anyone else in here, for that matter.

Something happened between June 20 and 26, transforming those two individuals' IG interaction from banter to contract. A trip to London, all expenses paid. Detailed indications on what to wear (YELLOW!) and how to behave. Illogical bursts of affection from her, while he looked disconnected for most of the time, or at least most of the time we were privy to.

Organic, my foot, Anon. And now she's blocking people, you tell me?

She is such a sweet summer child and if this will end well, I am Ingrid Bergman, Anon.

[llitchilitchi]

blog update? vent? what I wanna do going forward? this is long and ranty

I am not going anywhere, please remain calm :)

so this has been on my mind for the better part of a year now, if not longer. I don't think it's a secret or a shock to anyone that I am barely engaging in mcyt-related fandoms, even more so when it comes to creators. the community has for a large part transformed into something that I don't want to necessarily be a part of.

I am saddened at what has become of the CCs that I liked and found comfort in back during lockdown. I don't want to delve into any of the things that have happened over the last few weeks, much less months and years - I made it a rule for myself to not keep up with "drama" (I genuinely hate the word. a lot of it is pointless bickering and people being stupid and vile over small things that could have been solved privately, or people attacking others for no reason, and those that do not fit under the "people are stupid" umbrella are matters far too serious to be labelled as drama or discourse) and I try to not comment on it much. I can't help the two posts from time to time but the truth is, seeing discourse on my dash for days on end is wearing me down. and it often feels like that is all there is going on anymore.

as of, this is not me denouncing my love for dream and the dream team, or their friends and supporters, much less the fan community around them. there are many kind people who I cherish and I am grateful that they welcomed me in and shared my art and talked to me about it. these comments and conversations mean more to me than you could ever imagine. I've forged friendships here that I never could have dreamed of. I've never felt so comfortable in a fandom before and I don't think I will ever fully leave it behind.

that being said, I also doubt that I will be posting too much about anything mcyt-related. I haven't really been doing anything for the fandom anyways, not really. I enjoy the fan projects, and I am very grateful that I managed to get on the c!Dream zine as an artist, and I am looking forward to sharing that piece with you guys! it's one of my favourites that I've ever done, so look forward to that, and go support the project if you can! but to post only when it's related to projects feels a little insincere.

I am mostly writing this because there were a couple more projects that popped up, and I hesitate to join. not only because my involvement with the fandom is miniscule, but also because I feel a little worn and tired and gross about everything that has gone down. and I dread that by the time I get to actually work on a piece, the exhaustion and resignation will turn into distaste and unwillingness to do anything.

I still want to support artists and writers in the fandom. I will continue reblogging stuff, maybe even post some of my own (I have been itching to do a small illustration for monarchy again, but I've been incredibly busy, so don't get excited), but for the most part I think I'll be slowly turning towards other fandoms and original content. oh yeah, I there are OCs incoming.

I miss this fandom, and the community, and every good thing that came with it, but it does not feel sincere to keep engaging too much. I will likely stick to DSMP for the most part, if I will stay in the fandom at all. the real people around it just make me sad.

I don't have a conclusion to offer. no tl;dr. I wanted to get this off my chest. my feelings about everything going on are complicated at best. there's a yearning to come back and a revulsion at what many of the CCs are doing that keeps me away. a yearning for the excitement and love I felt once. maybe it'll come back. for now I just want things to calm down and if that isn't possible here, I will be minding my own business. so if you see me posting about Things at Inappropriate Times, do know that I simply do not wish to engage in the bad anymore.

[the-blue-fairie]

Art by @shes-an-iso – commissioned by me and posted here with permission

Realization.

It is ten years ago and I am watching Frozen.

It is ten years ago and I am watching Elsa transform herself into her truest self, watching her spin threads of blue around herself, seizing power for herself – radical self-actualization.

The glint of Elsa’s ice dress reflects in my eyes as I watch Elsa strut into the sunlight – and I do not have words for why I am so moved.

I do not have words, but the shimmer stays.

It is ten years ago and I am choosing to become a part of the Frozen fandom.

I have lurked in fandom circles before, but never posted a thing, never made an account.

It is my first time being part of an online fan community – and, as awful as fandoms can be at times, this fandom – for me – ten years ago – is truly a community.

I begin to make friends in the Frozen fandom.

Some of these friends are trans.

The gleam of Elsa’s hair in the rose-gold dawn shines again in my eyes, and shyly, I begin asking questions of my friends.

Realization is nothing without the words to process it – and my friends give me words, my friends help me to understand.

I am a trans woman.

It is in this online space that I first take the name Liza for myself, since this online space is the only place that I can allow myself to be.

I build for myself. My blog is my own ice palace. What I cannot sculpt in daily life, I carve within online spaces – offering my writing, my thoughts, my edits, my soul to the world.

Everyone here knows me as Liza.

Even as I’m in the closet to my family for years, in here, I am Liza. My friends know me as I am, and as Liza is all they will ever know me.

But I am in the closet. For years.

(It’s why Do You Want to Build a Snowman still breaks me.)

In the closet more out of some misplaced sense of duty to my family than out of dread, though I am scared. Always scared. And then in the closet because I feel it’s better if I bury this. Not better for me, but for them. If I’m bleeding inside, it doesn’t matter. I can put on a show. I have fine-woven gloves. Well-taught decorum. Be the good girl you always have to be, etc.

(Maybe it’s my fault I’m in the closet for years. Anons on this site have told me that in the past. I don’t have it as bad as others in the closet, I’m just a coward, the fault is mine, the fault is mine…)

Fuck off.

(People blame Elsa for the thirteen years in the same way, placing the blame on her and not the tutelage that trained her, because her parents loved her, you see, and love becomes a convenient means of shifting blame to the victim.)

In June 2016, after the Pulse shooting, I make a post about how I’m never going to come out. I am terrified, heartbroken, mangled by grief – but my friends are there for me. My friends send me messages of support, of compassion.

I still cherish the memory of those.

Years pass. When I finally come out to my father, I can barely say the words, barely look him in the eye.

It is ten years since Frozen and I have come out to my family – far too late. I have been on HRT more than a year now.

(My dad still misgenders me when he thinks I’m out of earshot. He resents when I get frustrated with him over this.)

It is ten years since Frozen and I am Elsa on the North Mountain, staring into the whirlwind of an uncertain future, defiant and scared.

And I know – I know – that I didn’t process I was trans because of the film – it was because of the friendship of fellow trans people, trans people who happened to be Frozen fans a decade ago – but my journey of self-realization, my time in the closet, my creation of a sense of self, are so entwined with memories of Frozen that I can’t help but think of it when thinking about my own transition…

Can’t help but think of Elsa, hips swaying, arms outstretched, flashing, radiant –

Happy tenth anniversary, Frozen.

And thank you. Thank you.

(This is okay to reblog. In fact, please do. It is a sliver of my soul that I offer to the world.)

[itadores]

tōdō as a romantic partner headcanons

note: just some thoughts on the topic

pairing: tōdō aoi x gn!reader

word count: 1k

tags: gender neutral reader, tōdō aoi-centric, very fluffy and domestic

first thing’s first, tōdō is a good partner. a great one even. i know this in my bones.

one of his greatest attributes as a partner is that he loves you so loudly. he will never shy away from singing your praises or complimenting you. he’ll brag about you to anyone who will listen, whether they’re willing to lend an ear or not. (as much as his peers enjoy your company, they’ve grown sick of hearing tōdō ramble on and on about you. they normally phone or text you when this happens, begging for you to reach out to tōdō, so they’ll be granted a moment of reprieve.)

tōdō loves being yours as much as you’re his. when the opportunity presents itself, he loves being able to proudly boast to others, especially individuals who may take too much of an interest in you or him for that matter, that he’s your partner. he experiences a bit too much joy when he gets to witness in real time how their face crumbles and they scramble away in defeat. even if you admonish tōdō for this behavior, he can’t bring himself to ever feel too sorry. after all, they should have known better.

tōdō is so so so loyal to you. of course, loyalty in a relationship is the bare minimum, but tōdō’s loyalty to you borders on reverence. he worships you, loving you so wholly. so completely. other people could never compare to you, could never hold as much space in his mind as much as you do.

tōdō is not always aware of his own strength and size, but the longer you’re in a relationship, the more he tries to be conscious of it. if you want to rough house, he’ll hold back, never using his full-strength. if you’re lying down together and cuddling, he’s careful to not crush you beneath his weight. sometimes, he does forget how strong he is, often caught up in his excitement of seeing you or showing you something and will manhandle you, but never to the extent that he would hurt you. he would never.

he really appreciates when you express interest in the things he likes. he’s incredibly passionate about JPOP, especially takada-chan. he could go on for hours and hours about the industry and his favorite idol, and sometimes he will, too caught up in his passion. he’s used to one-sided conversations when it comes to his rambling, but his excitement always increases whenever you ask him questions about what he’s talking about. he’s especially touched when you present him with little gifts related to his interests or recall snippets of your conversations together. most people brush off what he says, and for the most part, it doesn’t bother him, but to be seen and heard by you fills him with a joy he never thought he would experience.

being with tōdō means you get scary dog privileges. tōdō’s physique combined with his personality means that others tend to give you both a wide berth. but if on the off chance, somebody happens to get too close or makes you uncomfortable with tōdō around, they’ll wish they didn’t. tōdō goes from zero to one hundred so quickly, transforming right before your eyes. the only reason he doesn’t greviously harm the person bothering you is because you rein him in, holding the leash to his collar in your hands.

he’s so gentle with you in a way that his peers thought him incapable of. tōdō’s whole demeanor just softens when you’re around or you’re mentioned that his peers couldn’t believe their eyes when they witnessed the change in his behavior the first time you were introduced to them. of course, tōdō is still tōdō, but he becomes more at ease when you’re beside him.

tōdō is a very tactile person. he always wants to be touching you in some way, whether it’s an arm slung around your waist, his hand in your back pocket, or his side pressed against yours. he’s a very big fan of pda, shameless in the way he loves you, so if you’re not as big as a fan, you’ll have to let him know to tone it down a bit. he abides by your wishes, but sometimes, he can’t restrain himself and is compelled to act out on his desires when he thinks you look much too attractive for your own good, which is more often than not.

tōdō definitely carries your picture around with him, so he can have a reminder of you wherever he goes. he bought one of those accordion plastic wallet insert that has multiple sleeves, so he can have multiple pictures of you in his wallet since just one would not suffice for him. he also buys a locket, nicer than the one that holds a picture of itadori and takada-chan, and puts his favorite picture of you inside of it.

he is so into buying matching things. he wants y’all to get matching slippers, matching mugs, matching outfits, etc etc. it’s cute to a certain degree, but some of his suggestions are questionable at best. you’ve had to divert his attention away from some atrocious matching shirts he suggested you both get before.

tōdō is a great person to consult when it comes to hygiene products. since he takes such good care of himself, he knows what works and what doesn’t. he’s more than eager to offer any assistance you may need! if you ask him what are some good skincare products, he’s already drafting a list of products that he thinks would work for your skin type. if you ask him what shampoo and conditioner combination seems better, he provides you with information on what each one does and lets you decide which one would work out better for you. once you’ve refined your skincare routine and shower routine, tōdō buys all of the products you like to keep at his place for when you come over (if y’all don’t live together at that point.)

at the end of the day, people think tōdō is just a meathead, and while that may be true to a certain extent, he is also a thoughtful and loving partner that treats you wonderfully and loves you with all of his being <3