#released near my birthday probably why

[bibleofficial]

i’ve had lemonade on repeat for days at this point like it’s not even funny

[luveline]

kbd —your youngest daughter’s second birthday is hectic but perfect. dad!steve x mom!reader, 1.7k

“It’s crazy that she won’t remember.” 

“I know, but they remember all the love, right?” you say, stretching the neck of a balloon before attaching it to the hand-pump. “That’s what makes them happy kids. They were happy babies.”

Steve glances around the living room. There are shining cellophane banners on every wall, streamers in the eaves, bunting across the stairs and now balloons to be taped to the windows and hung from the ceiling. It’s five in the morning, and while you and Steve are both a tad slow with the clinging dregs of fatigue, neither of you are grumpy. It’s hardly much earlier than you wake up most days.

“I guess so,” Steve says, stretching his own balloon. 

“Even if she doesn’t remember, we’ll still remember,” you say with a shrug. “Don’t you remember Avery’s second birthday?” 

Steve remembers every birthday, and he gets your point. He wasn’t suggesting you make less effort and you know that, but it really freaks him out sometimes that the girls won’t remember their childhoods like he does. He’s telling you because he tells you everything.

“We got her a purple puppy teddy with those weird glass eyes and she accidentally hit you in the face really hard,” he says.

Steve remembers you pretending it didn’t hurt, and wiping the instinctive wetness from your eyes. You hadn’t been upset, but injuries near the sinuses make everybody cry. He’d wiped your tears away and he’d been deadly concerned; that was at a time where he was still marginally insecure about being a family, scared you’d one day realise you didn’t want it with him, that it was too hard and he was doing too little, every gentle caress of his thumb pleading with you not to hate him for it. 

But that was dramatic, in hindsight. When Avery noticed you were upset and began to cry too, you’d ducked away from Steve’s touch to pick her up and soothe her. You love Steve like breathing and Avery ten times as much. Your tears really were because you couldn’t help them.

“Ouch,” you say, slipping the balloon from the pump to tie around your two fingers. “I’m glad they don’t like Beanie Babies. That puppy almost took my teeth out.” 

He gives you a long look. “You’d still be cute without teeth, probably.” 

“Thank you.” 

You overestimate how much time you need to finish decorating. At 6AM you’re done, and at 7AM you’re napping, you and Steve with your heads pressed together on the couch, your snores blending into one sound. 

It’s Beth who wakes first sometime around 7:30. She doesn’t disturb you, only laughs at all the balloons and your strange predicament as she drags herself up the leather couch. It’s cracking now, you’ve had the same couch since she was born, but her dad always raves about it because he can wipe it clean with a clorox wipe. She avoids the spiky skin of it and curls up gently against Steve’s chest. She sniffs his shirt, and usually he senses someone’s close by to wrap an arm around them, but it’s you who feels her and covers her tummy with your hand. 

Upstairs, barely twenty minutes later, Dove wakes. She’s trapped in her cot and furious about it, whining behind a closed door, but luckily her best big sister Avery is waking up too. 

“Hi, Dove,” she says, beaming at her frowny sister, “it’s your birthday, did you know? Happy birthday!” Avery reaches arms just long enough to help Dove over the crib and onto the floor. “Wanna hol’ my hand?” 

“Okay.” 

Happier to be released, Dove and Avery backtrack to your bedroom and find it empty. “They must be downstairs,” Avery assumes. “Do you want socks?” 

Avery outfits them both in socks. You and Steve would be sorry you missed it if you knew it happened, Avery at her most gentle as she slips a pair of her socks over Dove’s tiny feet, and then her own. “Warm toes,” Avery says, “why does the floor get cold at night time?” 

Dove doesn’t know. She holds her hands out and Avery shakes her head. “Dad said I can’t carry you on the stairs. Come on, let’s go see what’s for breakfast. It’s your birthday so you can probably get to pick.” 

“Toast?” Dove asks. 

“Sure, Dove, I like toast. French toast? With cinnamon sugar?” 

They make it to the bottom of the stairs unharmed and find a hallway turned to a dreamscape. “Wow!” Avery says, pointing at the balloons. They’ve been taped into a rainbow arch around the door to the living room, and there are streamers hanging down as a curtain to walk through. 

Dove is pleasantly startled, her giggle one of promised excitement. “Wow!” she says. 

On the couch, Steve snorts awake. 

He blinks dry eyes, arms instinctively squeezing the small mass at his chest, worried he’s grabbed a kid and forgotten and the poor girls about to fall. After a second he gets his wits back and realises it’s only a dozing Beth, your hand sandwiched under his arm. 

He blows out a breath and finds the source of the commotion; Avery and Dove stands giggling in the doorway, the pink paper streamers kissing their faces as they look up at them. 

“Good morning!” he says, giving you a little nudge. “Dove, baby, it’s your birthday! Happy birthday! Can you see, the decorating fairies came when you were sleeping.” 

“Happy birthday!” you croak agreeably. 

“Thanks,” Beth says, rubbing her nose against his chest. 

“Not yours, sweetheart,” Steve says. 

“Okay.” She settles with a good pat on the back. 

For breakfast, Dove indeed wants French toast with ‘minnamin’, and you couldn’t be happier to make it. You sit her in her high chair with a pillow behind her back, you and Steve performing something of a dance as you rush to feed three hungry girls while satiating the birthday girl's demands. “You can have anything you want,” Steve promised. Why would he do that? Now Dove wants a kiss, and the bag of chocolate chips from the pantry, and another kiss, and Mommy, can we have cocoa? 

It’s hectic, but it’s fine. If she wants some hot cocoa of course she can have it, it’s just a lot to happen all at once. 

“Careful,” you say, lifting Steve’s arm away from the burner. He’s shifted the pan off of the heat and forgotten about it. “Ooh, saved your arm hair.” 

“Jesus,” he says, yanking his arm out of your touch, but more importantly, away from the heat. “Shit, sorry.” 

“Mom, can I have water please?” Beth asks. 

You lean up into the big cabinet full of glasses for her favourite plastic cup and rinse it out. You fill it from the jug in the fridge and put it down in front of her with a big kiss pressed to the back of her head. “Okay?” you ask. 

“Thank you.” 

“Avery, what are you gonna have to drink?” 

“Coffee.” 

“I don’t think so, little miss. Coffee isn’t very good for you, and it tastes strong.” 

Avery tries to stop you from walking away, so you stay, despite Steve’s scary-looking cooking. He’s dangerous about the heat. 

“What?” you ask, looking down at her. 

“Are you gonna give Dove the presents after breakfast?” she whispers. 

“Yeh, bub. Don’t worry, I wrapped yours last night.” 

She beams at you. She’d stuck up in bed like a dagger when she remembered she hadn’t wrapped it, but you promised to do it if only to get her to go to sleep. 

She hums as you tip her head back and tap your noses together, upside down.

“And… ta da!” Steve puts a plate of chopped up French toast and sugar soaked fruits in front of the birthday girl. The toast is thick and browned, but cut into little squares so she can’t choke. “Birthday breakfast for my beautiful girl.” He kisses her chubby cheek. 

“Who’s next?” he asks, pulling up. “Bethie, you want French toast too?” 

“Yes, please.” 

“You want to help me make it?” 

“I can?” she asks, propping herself with two hands on the table. 

“Steve, please be careful,” you beg. 

“What, like I’m gonna let her get burned?” 

He scoops Beth up. You wrap your arms in front of Avery with your chin atop her head, two girly shields to protect you from the oncoming argument. 

In her high chair, Dove laughs around a mouthful of raspberries and bread. “Dad, stop frowning!” she demands. Frowning sounds like ‘fwoming’ and raspberry juice stains her chin, but it is her birthday, so you and Steve leave your playful arguing for another time. 

“You’re on my list,” he whispers threateningly. 

You pull up a seat between Dove and Avey to make sure Dove doesn’t hurt herself in her greed. “You’re on my list.” 

Dove doesn’t need help eating anymore, but she seems to enjoy the attention, so you begin feeding her one forkful of yummy sugary breakfast at a time. “Want maple syrup?” you ask her. 

Her eyes go wide as saucers. “Yes!” 

“Okay, baby. Dad, can we get some syrup over here?” 

“Lazy, awful woman. What happened to her legs?” he asks Beth, who giggles like she knows she shouldn’t laugh. 

Dove smiles. She looks as happy as she ever has, with her slept-in pyjamas and her bed head, pink on her lips, brown sugar dusting the front of her nose. “I can’t believe you’re already two,” you say, wiping her nose gently. “Is that yummy?” 

“Yummy,” she says agreeably, lips parting the second you raise her fork. 

You got a present for each of the girls, though it isn’t their day, because you didn’t want them to feel left out, but honestly they don’t seem like they’ll need any extra spoiling. Bethie’s laughing sitting on the counter as Steve lets egg drip on her knee, squeamish giggling that in turn makes Avery laugh and attempt to join them. Steve grabs her under the arms and puts her right next to Beth. 

“Two assistants!” he says. “I’m spoiled. Which one of you wants to find the maple syrup? It’s somewhere in all that mess.” 

[wings-of-ink]

Hello, my friends!

Just wanted to pop in with some info and updates.

*The "Cursed Birthday" won the 2k follower celebration poll. Sorry dads! I don't have an ETA for that just yet. I may write it here and there until the end of the year as the motivation strikes. I think the easiest way to tell the tale would be from Oswin's POV or even a shifting POV between him and Da (Kip). I'll decide for sure once I begin to write it. Also playing with the idea of doing this in Twine to make it playable. That way you could put your MC's specifics in for maximum emotional damage.

*I will still write things about the dads though, so all my Papa and Da fans out there won't be left in the dark forever.

*I will be "patching" Chapter 5 in the near future. I redid Zahn's scene (again) which gave me such a headache on release day. I formatted the beginnings in a much more streamlined way and fixed some bugs. When I have more time to sit and go through error reports, and make more corrections to typos, grammar, and code - then I will put the patch through.

*All chapters will be getting a scrub for issues in the text in the coming months. I will do my best to find them, but self-editing is very difficult (there's good reason that professional editors exist). In the future, I may need to ask for testers/editors.

*ASKS will be changing a bit. I do not know the full extent of how because it's a trial by fire. The rules will be updated as I come across things. But, here's why:

Spoiler prevention - as much as it is possible, I want to limit spoiling content for both new and existing readers. Not just for the plot points that are developing, but also for our mystery suitor who will have a lot of unraveling in the coming chapters. I will probably make a specific tag for answers that may contain spoilers, but some of the issue is the information in the Ask itself, which I can't hide. I may opt to compile these in a big post like once a month or so. This way, if anyone does not want to see anything spoilery, it's easier to avoid.

Time management - reaction asks specifically will remain limited and they will honestly have to be a lower priority depending on the condition of my inbox. I am very sorry for this, but these can take an inordinate amount of time. I write this IF in my downtime from work and personal life, and I also use those moments to manage Tumblr. I need to balance those so I can work toward releasing more of the IF.

Patreon - I still plan to give Patreon a go probably starting January. This will help me fund things for the game, such as art, and help me justify spending even more of my time writing chapters and extras. But like everything else, I will need to allot time to work on these things.

Personal Development - I'm taking a coding class! I can work on it at my leisure and it won't take a ton of time during the week, but it will take me out of my Tumblr time a little bit I think. Fingies crossed, I will learn a lot that will help me code a better game for you!

*Inbox - I have several Asks awaiting responses about chapter 5. As noted above, I am holding these due to spoilers to give readers a chance to catch up. (I may opt to compile these in one large post.)

Anyway, that's all for now (it's at least all I currently remember, lol).

Take care, all!

~Lunan ^_^

[90ekz]

across the map.

☾ summary: usually onyankapon likes to keep his face shaven and sleek, but once he notices how you can’t keep your eyes off his new facial feature, he has other plans.

☆ tags: black fem reader, chubby reader, facial hair kink (??? idk man), sub!ony for like 2 seconds, overstimulation, porn w small plot, teasing, creampie, p in v, liberal use of “ma” & “mama”, mention of pregnancy, not proofread, vaginal fingering, onyan & y/n are roommates in college, business major onyan <3

♡ a/n: sorry for being gone so long, i’ve literally been so busy 😭😭, but thank y’all for 500 followers !!! the support means the world to me.

it wasn’t even intentional.

onyankapon had gotten so busy with his classes overseas that he’d slipped up on his weekly shave. he typically didn’t grow facial hair very fast anyway, but all of a sudden his goatee was sprouting like weeds.

he couldn’t figure out why, until he’d locked eyes with the facial serum connie had gifted him for his birthday. dumbass.

in theory, onyankapon should’ve already shaved it. he told himself that he wouldn’t do it the night before his flight, but he really didn’t have time to keep up with that promise.

and he was lazy.

onyankapon tried to ignore it, but everytime he went to touch his face he was reminded of it, and it just made him cringe. he was finally going home to you tomorrow, and he wanted to look perfect for his baby.

when he’d left home three weeks ago, you were so sympathetic and understanding about the lack of time you were gonna have to talk but still a bit somber, knowing your conversations would be reduced to good morning & good night texts.

now, he stood over his hotel room sink, attempting to both not fall asleep and shave at the same time.

it wasn’t working.

“fuck it. not even finna do allat,” he just flicked the bathroom light off, knowing had a long flight in the morning and it was already nearing one in the morning. he just hoped you wouldn’t be too uncomfortable with his stubble.

the next morning, onyankapon felt his lips curl upward when he received a million texts of you being so giddy about him coming home.

sweet cheeks 🤞🏾: BAE

sweet cheeks 🤞🏾: OMG BABY UR COMING HOME 2DAY

sweet cheeks 🤞🏾: HAVE A GOOD FLIGHT BABY ILYSMMMM

the whole flight home, all onyankapon could think of was your plush lips against his and that round ass that he would inevitably be fondling soon. the woman next to him probably thought he was a psychopath from the way he was randomly giggling to himself.

walking off the plane and eventually into the baggage pick up area where he finally saw your face for the first time in almost a month, onyankapon was overwhelmed.

the way your face lit up when you saw him, your body in that pretty little skims dress, god.

he felt like he was in love again for the first time.

you threw yourself into his arms and he was just as excited to see you, but he couldn’t help but kneed the fat of your ass as you kissed him senseless.

“have some shame, we’re in public.”

“can’t help it. my sweet lil’ thing, i missed you…” you gasped as he gripped your ass once more, but not for the reason he thought you did. your eyes had finally zeroed in on his newly bearded face, and you couldn’t help the ache that suddenly appeared downward.

you never saw onyankapon’s facial hair, or rather, he never even gave you the opportunity to see it. as soon as you jokingly commented on how his stubble was tickling you, he was in the bathroom with the door locked while the clippers released a small whirring sound in the background.

you’d always been curious. you liked a lil goatee here and there, but it was never a major turn on or anything.

but on your nigga? yeah, you needed him bad.

he wet his lips as he peered down at you, even giving you a peek of his shiny diamond grill as he smiled at you. you trailed behind him slightly as he led you to your car, trying not to stumble from the heartbeat down below.

“shiiii, slut me out.”

“whatchu say, ma?”

“nun! cmon boy, you walk slow.”

onyankapon let his hands wander the whole drive home. on your thigh, rubbing against your nipples, even rubbing small circles onto your clit at one point.

you two barely got into the house before onyankapon was caging you against the wall and attacking your neck with his teeth. all you could hyperfocus on was the scratch of his beard against your sensitive skin.

your hand snaked to rub the sweet spot on his neck, smiling to yourself as he turned to putty. he smiled into your neck, his own hands wandering under the seam of your dress. his eyebrows jumped upward at your wetness.

“fuck.. all this for me mama?” you nod weakly as he immediately pushes two fingers knuckle deep into you, already knowing that you’d been preparing yourself for when he got home.

any words this man was saying to you were barely making it into your ears. anytime onyankapon spoke, you were immediately drawn to his lips and chin, and just how mature he looked.

it was almost sophisticated.

“been gone for so long and you won’t even focus on me. makin’ me sad, baby.” onyankapon breathed out, still a bit in disbelief that you were finally in his arms again. his fingers worked an almost melodic rhythm inside of your cunt, while his palm kept your clit company.

“more—fuck, onyyy,” you couldn’t help but whine out louder as his stubble scratched against your neck once more. the scratch only added to the knot threatening to burst in your stomach.

“shit, get these off mama.” onyankapon tugged at your dress and the panties underneath, silently begging you to get rid of them.

“you nasty.”

“you want me to make you nut or nah?” you just smacked your lips and removed your dress. his eyebrow quirked when you didn’t immediately take off the panties and bra accompanying it, but he dropped to his knees nonetheless.

you shivered at his warm breath ghosting against your clothed pussy. he continued to lap and lick at you, leaving a heavy feeling in your gut.

yet you still wanted more.

you wanted more for the sole purpose of feeling his chin hair scratch and rub against your pussy, your neck, all over you, wherever he wanted.

“c-can you—fuck!” onyankapon just smiled at you, already knowing what you wanted him to do, all you needed to do was beg for it. he just continued his skillful movements, just wanting to tease you for a little longer.

“what can i do for you, my love?”

onyankapon struggled to conceal his laugh, because he expected that you wouldn’t beg to him, not without a lot of coaxing that is.

what he didn’t expect was for you to slip your panties down while he wasn’t looking and stuff his face nose-deep in your cunt without warning. his eyes grew wide as you started shamelessly fucking his face, while he struggled to not choke on his own moans.

between your essence dripping down his chin, the grip on the back of his neck and your whines, onyankapon’s cock found itself getting much stiffer much quicker than he anticipated.

every bump of your clit against his nose against his nose sent a zap to his dick. he just sat and took it, his grip on your thighs tightening so much that he started to wonder if he was gonna break skin.

sex with ony’ wasn’t usually this rough, but three weeks away from each other had your bodies screaming the second you came together again. he really didn’t know how you’d react to seeing him again, but he hadn’t considered that you’d be this dominant.

neither did he think about how much he’d like it.

you pulled him away suddenly, presumably so he could catch his breath. onyankapon could swear that you were talking to him, but his mind was completely gone.

“‘m sorry, mama. ‘shouldn’t have done it, just lemme please you.”

before you could respond, his tongue was roughly digging you out, his grip on your waist being the only thing keeping you on earth. he didn’t stop licking until you’d cum on his tongue twice and were begging him to stop.

“ooh, ony—too much..”

he barely cared, making that known as he continued to press kitten licks to your sensitive hole.

“hey—boy are you even listening to me?” onyankapon gave you a stank look as you pushed him away with your foot. you couldn’t help but laugh at how badly this nigga wanted you.

“i wasn’t done.” suddenly you were being flipped over and onyankapon’s thick cock was laying against the skin of your stomach. he looked just about ready to rip you apart.

he gave your clit a few taps before pushing home, the action making your eyes roll back. he didn’t hesitate to slam himself into you roughly back to back, the meat of your ass slamming against his balls.

onyankapon began to kiss on your neck, and smirked into the crook of it when he felt your cunt spasm around him.

“missed you so much ony—needed t-this..”

“fuck, missed you so much more.. such a good girl…” his thrusts only sped up as you whined his name louder and louder with each kiss his cock placed against your cervix. his grip on your waist was tight enough to leave bruises, as he latched onto you like he was afraid you’d slip away from him.

without any warning, onyankapon strokes his fingers against your clit, and your losing your mind while cumming on his cock. he just coos at you, wondering what he did to deserve you. the overstim quickly sets in though, and you’re not-so quietly begging him to slow down.

“shhh, i know you can give me one more ma, i know you can…”

‘one more’ turned into two, three, and eventually four drawn out orgasms, all sprayed onto onyankapon’s lower abdomen. fuckin’ liar. “mmhm, want me to nut in you mama? want this mini-me in you, yeah?” all you could do is nod weakly as he pumped you full, his thrusts finally slowing. your eyes cracked open to see him smirking down at you while he languidly stroked your cheek to make sure you were still with him.

“you so cute. you still with me?”

“mmm.”

onyankapon just smirked as he got some things to wipe you up with. after a few minutes, you finally started to sit up and recover, only to get an immediate attitude with him.

“i can’t believe i let you nut in me,” you mumbled as he turned on the newest episode of General Hospital. he just laughed at you, not being worried considering you’re on birth control.

“you’re so into the beard, you woulda begged me to anyway.” you just scoffed before walking to the bathroom to pee, knowing that he was right but not wanting to admit it.

“i was not.”

[eris-snow]

13. 𝐁𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐁𝐨𝐱

Tags: bakugoux fem!reader, juxtaposition, angst,fluff, falling in love, playing piano together

13 is an unlucky number.

20th April

There’s streamers on the ground and balloons on the ceiling. All it takes is for Katsuki to hear the confetti poppers release to realise—Oh, shit, it’s my fucking birthday.

There’s a cake Sato’s made and the class settles on the plush sofas for a movie night, but not before they bury him with his presents big and small. A year ago, he never thought he’d be able to get to where he was today a whole. Two years ago, he got his physical and mental wellbeing fucked up and almost died in war.

Katsuki looks at the candles and blows out all 18 of them, a wish caught between his lips and windpipe. When Denki and Mina pester him about it, he waves them off and tells them to die. Wishes don’t come true if you share them, after all.

I hope you will be at my birthday next year.

I wish to break Reset, wish you could be seen.

Wish I could save you.

—

There’s a knock on the door as Katsuki hollers to answer. The only thing that greets his eyes is a present wrapped neatly in the same shade of canary yellow your cord is. Shredding the wrapping paper, he’s greeted by a mini Venus flytrap as a note that falls out.

Katsuki picks the paper up and unfolds it with an inkling of who it might be from. The handwriting is shit but legible.

Happy birthday, Bakugou. Rmb to give it lots of sunlight and feed it live insects. If you can’t keep it alive for a year, you owe me 1000 yen and your thumbs.

–

Katsuki digs up the score sheet Eijiro found and reads over it again.

‘Nuvole Bianche—Duet version.’

One of the scores your professor gave him, probably. The yellow cord dances around it playfully, coiling around his finger and tugging him to the hall.

“No.” He scolds.

The string unwinds, rewinds, and circles the score, determined and unwilling to take no for an answer.

“Fuck off, would you?” He groans, flopping against his bed. After his last outburst in front of you, he’s just—he just can’t face you. His palms get sweaty and there’s a flush on his face and he can’t control his stupid heart rate. It’s not normal, and part of him has a creeping suspicion as to why.

He eyes the score again and then exhales. Katsuki can’t ignore you forever, and heroes aren’t wimps, so he grabs the score and opens his balcony window.

It hurts to be near you, but it hurts even more to stay away.

—

Katsuki wrenches open the curtains to see you playing the piano. The cord wraps around you and the instrument, sleek and black and so goddamn shiny. It seems like you’ve taken a liking to his jacket, because that’s all he ever sees you wear now. It’s grey, lint-covered fabric resting comfortably on your shoulders.

With slacks, a messy bun, thin-rimmed glasses and earpods, it seems like you were back to transcribing another song. Figures, because when you look at him and upturn your lips, his brain stutters.

“Hey.” Your eyes flicker from his face to the scoresheet in his hands. “Whatcha got there?”

Katsuki’s mind goes uhh, and he answers. “Found this in the box we got from the storage unit. Recognise it?”

Your eyes light up like stars on Christmas Eve (stars?). “So you had it!” You squeal, taking it out of his hands gingerly and smoothing it out. “I thought I lost it, or…or threw it away—”

“Slow down, blabbermouth, what the hell are you talking about?!”

You flip it to him, giving him the stupidest fucking grin he’s ever seen.

“It’s our duet!”

Katsuki looks at you like you’ve been catapulted out of a UFO.

“When we were younger, we used to play these duet pieces our professor gave us. Got bored of playing the standard ones and decided to write a duet of a song we actually liked.” Fake smiles and trembling fingers, fuck no, he refuses to make you sad now.

“We wrote a duet of Nuvole Bianche by ourselves?”

“Yeah.”

Katsuki gives you a hard stare.

“…Sensei might have helped out a little.” More staring.

“A lot.”

Silence.

You pat the piano seat and avoid eye contact. “You wanna try?”

“You’re funny, now scoot over.”

—

“Thanks for the plant, by the way.”

“Oooh, you got it? What are you gonna name it? Snappy? Chomper—?”

“The hell? I’m not gonna name it—!”

“I got it! Sir Traps-a-lot!”

“I will start eating humans if you name my plant that.”

“Aw, cannibalism.”

—

Katsuki doesn’t know what to call this. This thing he does where he draws open the curtain, gets invited to sit beside you with the sweetest smile, and relearns music notion. It may have been years since he last touched the keys, but memory lies in practice, so he picks it up after one or two days off you teaching him how to play.

See the unseen, find what has been lost.

How is he supposed to get his memories back through the power of music and friendship?

Still, honing talent takes time, and it’s time he hasn’t invested. He’s nowhere near as good as he used to be.

“You’re getting better.” You intone, staring at the way his fingers fly across the board. (It’s not fair, he’s good at everything he does.)

“You’re faster,” he grumbles. “You have a better ear for how a piece should be played too.”

“Aw, praise from the half-deaf prodigy. I’m honoured.”

He flips you off, but it’s worth it when he hears you cover your mouth and giggle like a maniac.

“Wait till I surpass you,” He mumbles, hiding his face.

His neck is burning, and he wonders why.

—

The month of May comes and goes, but you seem happier than you’ve ever been. It makes Katsuki puff up with pride, because, the grin you have on your face and the beautiful music you make is all because of him.

—

30 June

“Look, you may be damn close to being a ghost, but it doesn’t mean you shouldn’t eat.”

You sigh, rolling your eyes.

This again.

Katsuki’s been on your case about skipping meals, but he doesn’t understand the sheer difficulty of eating meals. Meals require interactions, require you to go up to a counter and order, and if there is any possible way to reduce the constant reminder of being overlooked as possible, you’d take it.

“I’m eating.” You protest. “You don’t have to see it to know.”

Katsuki rolls his eyes, obviously disagreeing, but he doesn’t go on about it.

The next day, as Class 3A passes yours during assembly dismissal, a bento is shoved into your hands, wrapped meticulously which contains the warm plastic container it’s in. You take a sneak peek in it and find egg rolls stacked neatly against carefully cooked chicken and fluffy white rice.

You look up and glance around, before finding Katsuki’s frame as he talks to Eijiro with hands shoved into his pockets.

On it, is a Post-it written with surprisingly neat handwriting.

Eat it, dork. I made it myself.

He’s making it too difficult to sweep your feelings under the carpet.

—

The last time Katsuki made you a meal was 3 years ago.

He did it for a month or so before Reset occurred, and that month was the same month you fell for him.

Wishful thinking tells you that Katsuki was falling in love with you too.

Some people fall head over heels. You got shoved into a hole and never made it out.

But now, it means something else entirely. Getting food was one of the biggest challenges since you get ignored so much. And now that it was getting worse, it was flat-out impossible to reach Katsuki’s standard of three meals a day unless you were to become a criminal.

To get the attention of someone and retain it long enough to get what you wanted…sometimes, it was better to starve.

The last time someone cooked for you, was your last family dinner 4 years ago.

To receive food cooked just for you makes your cheeks warm in appreciation as you bring it to your chest with a stupid grin on your face.

He made it for me.

You really need to stop doing this to yourself.

—

The bell rings and you’re off like a bullet.

You couldn’t wait to eat, and you could only imagine just how it tasted like.

Mine mine mine, you made it for me, just like old times, thank you, thank you, thank—

You trip over a step, and catch yourself before you fall. Eyes trace your table, and your lips pull into a frown.

It’s not there. You dig in your bag and survey your surroundings—nothing.

This isn’t fair. You see your class monitor standing by the whiteboard, mustering the courage to speak to him because no, you couldn’t lose this. Not when Katsuki made it for you.

“Hey, did you see my bento?”

He ignores you (of course), and it takes another 5 attempts and a yell to get his attention.

“Oh, you mean that plastic container?” He clarifies.

He takes in your vigorous head nodding with a monotone expression.

“I trashed it. It was sitting at the back of the classroom, rotting. No one in the class claimed it.”

I trashed it.

Confusion melts to disbelief as your expression twists to one of horror.

I trashed it. The words echo tauntingly. He says it so casually, too.

No, no, no, it’s not fair, it’s not—

“That was mine!” Your voice sounds as rough as cement, choked up and ruined.

The class monitor’s expression is listless, almost bored. “Oh, is that so?”

Anguished silence fills the room. Unbelievable.

“There was food in there—” You’re getting desperate, because how could you lose something just like that?

“Why would you throw away that? You couldn’t have—you must have noticed—!”

That pause was a fatal step, because you’re about as interesting as a house plant. His eyes are locked on something else, and you watch the familiar confusion settle in his eyes before he glances around and shakes his head.

“No, no, no—come on, listen to me—!” You try to grab his arm as he turns to walk away, but to your utter dismay and complete shock, it passes through his hand as if nothing existed there at all.

In all the three years of Reset, no matter how overlooked, how ignored, how invisible you were, that has never happened to you before.

Your feet feel numb. Your body feels numb.

Even as the lights get switched off, you stand rooted to the spot, as fear swallows you a whole.

All that’s left is the ticking of the clock, making you every bit more aware of how fast the seconds are passing you by.

You don’t have much time left.

You find your bento in a big, black rubbish bin nestled between the toilets and the water cooler. Rice spewed, egg rolls crushed, and chopsticks splintered.

—

The next time Katsuki sees you, you’re staring at your arm like it’s alien to you.

Something isn’t fucking right.

He’d expected a thank you, starry eyes like the way they lit up before when you surveyed the contents of his bento. He didn’t expect you to look just a little more…dead inside.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” he demands.

“My bento got trashed.” You reply tonelessly. “And my hand…passed through someone.”

“Excuse you?”

“I’m not fucking joking, Bakugou.” You show him your hand, and curl up a little more. “It’s fine now, I’m fine now.”

“Stop saying that, idiot.”

“But I am!” You shout, voice rising. “And the thing I’m more upset about…is…” You look up at him, eyes burning with regret and sorrow.

“I didn’t get to eat your bento.”

Katsuki’s heart shrivels up inside.

“You worked so hard on it, only for it to get thrown away. I’m sorry.”

He lets out a loud sigh, and sits beside you. “You’re fading away, and you have the nerve to be sorry for a fucking bento?”

“It looked like a tasty bento.”

“It’s dead, and you’re not.” He growls, eyebrows knitting together. “I’ll make you another one, okay? One that’ll blow you out of the park. Then we can meet here and eat it together, so I get to see your face while you consume the best fucking curry in the world. After that, we locate the piano to play our stupid duet on, and save you. Quit sulking.”

Your eyes snap up to him, a glare searing his face. Much better.

“I’m not sulking.”

Katsuki folds his arms, and you avert your eyes.

“Can you make egg rolls too?”

He slumps down beside you, exhaling. Success.

“Yes, I’ll make you your stupid egg rolls, Sunshine.”

139 Days Until Death.

-----

Taglist:

@genderfluid-anime-goth

[sonny-boiiii]

It's timee!! Soo i was a secret santa for @jazzy-offical! You didn't put anything specific and i couldnt tell much from your account other than that you like Jane! I just rewrote the birthday scene from Jane's POV! I hope you like it and i will post it on Ao3 sometime soon!

Jane gasped and lolled her head backward. She had just finished her song. Her contribution to the competition. She felt weightless as she flew around, singing about her tragedy. There she was. The girl who wanted a ballad, but was instead forced to sing a lament. 

She could hear footsteps, echoing throughout the empty warehouse. The footsteps of five other children, who just so happened to meet the same demise as her. 

Suddenly she felt gentle hands tying a string around her neck, fixing a cape over her shoulders. It was Noel. 

She admired Noel. He had what she wanted most, a life to remember. Family, friends, everything. She felt that he probably envied her too. After all, tragedy was what he craved most, and tragedy was all that she had. 

She looked confusedly at the others, who had formed a circle around her. They had begun singing ‘happy birthday’ to her. Misha was singing slightly behind the rest. His accent made it sound like he was singing “borthday” instead of “birthday”  and combined with his deep voice, it was quite funny to Jane. 

As the choir reached the part where they say Jane’s name,  they all halt their singing. Constance nervously sings “hmmm hmmm” instead. 

Jane liked Constance. She was very kind. But whenever Jane tried to approach her, she backed away.

Another girl, Ocean,  spoke up. “That song is so overplayed. We’ll come up with something better” she steps away from the circle, beckoning Ricky to walk with her. He nods, walking over to the side and sitting cross legged in front of an instrument that Jane didn’t recognize. Well, she couldn’t really recognize anything, so that fact wasn’t new. 

Ricky began to play a melody on the instrument, looking up at Ocean. She starts singing. She hesitantly makes up lyrics as she goes. She finishes a verse, and walks to join the choir, they all begin singing the same melody that Ocean had started. They all hold hands, walking in a circle around Jane. When they near the end of the song, they release each other’s hands and sway their arms. Jane begins swaying side to side along with them. 

She was confused, but she liked what they were doing. 

When the song finishes, Constance brings a small object with a swirl of pink cream and a wax stick protruding from the top. She stops and holds it up to Misha, who produces a lighter from his pocket and lights the top of the stick of the object.

“It’s a cupcake. For you." Constance holds the treat up to Jane. She stares at her for a second. Jane reaches up to grab the cupcake and Constance rushes to blow out the flame of the candle as Jane smushes it between her hands. 

Jane stares at the frosting and cake in her hands, still holding the treat in front of her, she stumbles away from the choir to a corner of the warehouse

She watches as Noel and Misha have a conversation. She wishes she could befriend someone here, but they’re all scared of her. 

Noel rests his head on Misha’s shoulder, and Misha wraps an arm around him. 

Jane remembered when she tried to extend hugs to Constance and Ocean, but they both backed away when she tried. Why couldn’t they have just held her back like Misha just did? 

She heard someone approaching her, it was Ricky. 

He plopped himself next to her and smiled. 

She looked at him. “How do we know it’s my birthday?” she asked. “How do we know it’s not your birthday?” he responds. 

Jane stopped for a second. How do we know it’s not her birthday? There is no way though. It could be or it couldn’t be. They would never know. 

“People have names on pretend birthdays too." She had no idea about the legitimacy of that statement. She had never been to a fake birthday. Or any birthday for that matter. 

“You could call yourself,” he pauses for a second to think of an answer, “Savannah.”

Jane cocks her head. “What’s a Savannah?” 

“Savannah’s a special name I’ve been saving up but… you can have it." 

She still looks confused. He continues rambling nervously, his face turning redder and redder. 

“I like Savannah," Jane says, interrupting him, “Can Savannah have the greenest eyes?" 

Ricky smiles warmly, he takes her hands. “Yes," he says. 

Jane looks up in wonder. “Savannah. With the greenest eyes.” She returns her gaze to the boy before her. 

Ricky releases her hands, and instead holds out his arms to her. Jane falls into him. She’s not entirely sure what to do in a hug, so she pats his back, moving her arm sharply like a robot. 

“Happy birthday, Savannah." Ricky  says. 

[saiscribbles]

What are your future plans for your channel btw? Although I like your content criticizing Lily, I think it’s best for you to move away from her because her time on the internet is a huge trash fire that never leads to anything good.

I’d personally really like to see you talk more about Hazbin Hotel or Steven Universe! Your streams are really fun and I love having them on the side while I work. :)

BOLD OF YOU TO ASSUME I HAVE A PLAN!

Much like I never actually intended to start a Steven Universe AU series I never actually intended to become a YouTuber in the first place.

Here's the story:

For years now I've been doing a stream weekly on Twitch where I just talk with chat while drawing. One day Hiding in Public/Private released a couple of great videos on old SU hate videos, including Lily's infamous "Steven Universe is Garbage and Here's Why".

Not too long after that Lily released "Was I Wrong About Steven Universe?" as a nakedly obvious response. I thought hey, wouldn't it be funny if one stream I just react to this video? Just for funsies? To see if Lily has actually changed her mind on anything?

What I didn't expect was I'd end up spending like half an hour explaining Shoujo Kakumei Utena of all things during that video reaction.

I was kinda impressed with my own recall of Utena despite not having watched it in full in over a decade. So I thought eh for funsies lemme cut down that part and slap it on my account. Which is the same account I've had since 2006. I've put videos up there just for my friends and small number of fans before, as you can see from this Minecraft video from 11 years ago I filmed and edited for my friend for her birthday.

And then that Utena video got 5k views. On my completely unestablished YouTube channel. And I was like... huh. I knew people are annoyed by Lily Orchard but damn.

By that point I had also already decided to react to Lily's video on the Steven Universe Movie the next stream. Cause obviously the SU movie is something pretty near and dear to me that I know very well. And Lily's video was SO BAD and had so many OUTRIGHT LIES in it I thought well hell, let's cut down the two SU reacts into a video too!

It'll probably get like 10k views tops.

And then I'll just fuck off back into the shadows whence I came.

And I suddenly found myself with 3,000 followers.

And I suddenly found myself monetized.

And that video just passed 200k views now. In 3 months.

So I was like... well shit. Now I have this new audience over here on YouTube. I should probably actually give them something. I mean the added revenue stream is nice but I'm not looking to become a career tuber. Mostly I felt like I owed it to this new audience I now have.

So I started doing my art stream on YouTube as well! And I also have been game streaming, if you haven't checked my Lives recently. I've been streaming I Wani Hug That Gator, of all things, while doing silly voices and we're all having a blast. I already wanted to get back into game steaming this year even before this giant explosion in attention.

So for now that's the only thing resembling a plan! I'm gonna keep art and game streaming and cutting videos from those streams. I'm not a video essayist. I can't write and perform a script, I'm just not good at it. But I am very good off the cuff which is why I'm a streamer. I can explain things when prompted. So hey, come to my Wednesday art streams (2pm EST) and poke me for art and writing advice! Or to pick my brain about Steven Universe and Hazbin. I thrive on chat interaction! And then those can be shorts and videos too.

I do plan to do at least 3 or 4 more Lily reacts in the future just because they're videos I think would be funny to react to. But after that? Who knows!

[sleepycoffins-and-benhargreeves]

Okay guys, I've been thinking about it recently and I just find it so hard to believe that Ben and Klaus weren't close in S4 or at least had some sort of relationship aside from Ben being pissed off at him.

But then, I realized, they can't have that much interaction because Ben was literally in jail for 4 years!!!!

I'm imagining, that at the start of the reset, Ben hung out with Klaus. But like in my previous post, Ben got weirded out by Klaus and was afraid to become a replacement Ben.

So maybe they hung around for a year or more, getting drunk, having parties and getting to know each other. But Ben started to pull away, and when Klaus tried his usual antics of overdose or partying hard, it didn't work on this Ben because this Ben doesn't have that strong bond/memory of Klaus so he just left. Then, that little antic of Klaus NEARLY GOT HIM KILLED, hence why he became such a germaphobe paranoid.

Klaus thinks to himself, since he's no longer immortal and he can't tie Ben down with his usual hitting rock bottom schemes, he needs to find a different way. But like I said, his near death experience scared him so much that he couldn't hang out with Ben for a while.

But in that while, Ben got arrested for his crypto schemes (which Klaus probably knew of, but didn't think would be that big). So, he tried to visit Ben at jail, but he couldn't, he was too scared to go out now and eveything else felt dangerous.

Because, if he does die now, how will he spend more time with Ben? How will he get his brother/not-brother to hang out with him again? I like to imagine that Klaus became weak when he lost his powers, sickly even, and Allison didn't notice that much because she was too focused with Ray and Claire.

Imagining sickly Klaus trying to survive because he'll be damned if he's the one who dies and leaves Ben alone.

He can't visit Ben in prison, but he often writes him letters. Maybe even more than once a month. But in those four years, he received maybe less than ten replies from Ben so he's bitter about that and was actually counting the days when Ben would be released.

So when he sees Ben at Grace's birthday party, he really was pleasantly surprised. But Ben, who's bitter that Klaus didn't visit him in prison is mad at him. Miscommunication anyone?

So, they're on this stalemate because they're both pissed off with each other. And Ben wants to hang out less with Klaus because he's a paranoid germaphobe now and it's a turn off for him.

I really also like the part where when Ben asked Klaus to drink just one time, and he did accept the drink. He didn't drink it, but he wanted to be closer to Ben so he accepted it. Hoping maybe this will start something for them. He doesn't want his powers back, he just wants his Ben back so he "drank" the marigold just to show Ben that he's still good'ol Klaus.

I actually don't know where I was going with this lmao I just wanted to tell you guys that Klaus probably wrote insanely cheesy romantic, toxicly begging letters for Ben when he was in prison. Ben liked it, but is still weirded out by Klaus so he barely responds to it.

This can also explain why Klaus called Ben an obnoxious asshole (lol), because he's bitter that Ben didn't put the effort Klaus did when he was in jail. Which is also absurd af cuz how is my man supposed to put in effort when he's in fucking jail? lmao

[incorrect-ikevamp-quotes]

Oh we are so BACK

When I tell you I saw this and died. HELLO?????

I keep hiding my face lahshjsdhjgfsaf HE HAS NO RIGHT. NO RIGHT AT ALL BEING THAT SEXILY INTENSE AAAAAAAAAAA

Anyway, I should probably try to make some attempt at describing the event since. If I don't I'll just be barking/crying/hiding my face for the next twelve hours.

Basically--and I'm not sure this is going to be across the board, but it held true for Napoleon and Sebastian at least--each suitor has a birthday event this year instead of a separate story. Comte's won't be released until tomorrow, but they have posted a preview.

From what I gather, he talks a little bit about himself and reveals parts of his past that haven't come to light in the game yet. There wasn't really enough to convey a coherent narrative beyond attending a party, but the line displayed here does get across the larger theme:

Comte: (I don't need momentary pleasure or ephemeral affection any longer. Now that I know love, there's nothing but you.)

He talks about how the aristocracy have thrown parties and extravagant celebrations for his birthday for most of his life. But none of it has ever really made him happy, largely because he knows that they are attempts to strengthen and broadcast power relations within high society. While I don't think he means it's entirely devoid of well wishes, I do think he sees it as a nexus of influence--and thus, by nature, impersonal. And honestly, I don't think he's wrong about that; the higher the echelon in social standing, the more it requires performance to maintain the position.

That being said, there is a fascinating flashback where he remembers a pureblood telling him about how falling in love with a human is an experience of another caliber entirely. My understanding is that Comte was still a fairly young vampire at the time, so he didn't really understand what the person was getting at. It seems like the other pureblood was trying to convey the difference in feeling, perhaps the fact that humans are more grounded in accordance with how they live--the reality and necessity of change.

After reading this--and the recent 5th bday story--I can absolutely see how change is something Comte has a complicated relationship with. He's known a certain way of life for so long, has constructed a sensibility of distant, rational maturity. After all the heartbreak of his youth, and two very acute traumatic events in his life, I can see why he'd be so afraid of broaching any kind of proximity with another person. Because on some level it's so much easier not to put your feelings on the line, to never have to fear devastating loss. And that's to say nothing of the worry of being unable to measure up on behalf of another person, of letting them down.

I'm so excited to see the rest of the contents, but something about the preview made me equal parts giddy and enamored (all I do is kick my feet with excitement LOL). I think what gets to me with Comte is that he truly does love companionship as a place to rest, a place where he can be honest about himself and his feelings without fear of ridicule (and the same goes for MC). In a world increasingly obsessed with surface level performances of power, status, and emotion, it's hard not to feel his exhaustion to the core.

Also, because these lines at the end more or less destroyed me in the best possible way:

MC: ...The you who had nowhere to belong no longer exists. In much the same way...Abel, I belong to you. Comte: ... Comte: I wish I could say to myself all those years ago, the me who kept indulging in such paltry things. Comte: Until you meet MC, you will never know love... The warmth of MC in my arms filled me with such joy I was near tears. (I don't need momentary pleasure or ephemeral affection any longer. Now that I know love, there's nothing but you.) The moment my lips found hers, the sweetness lit a fire deep in my body. Comte: These cute lips that melt against mine, the heat of your skin, the love that envelops me in your embrace--always leaves me so deeply in love with you.

[angelfoodcake222]

I'm back on my LMK x Hurt!Reader kick!!! Yippee!

"How would these characters react to their friend or S/O, Y/N, coming home after a big fight that made them temporarily forget about a prescheduled meet-up at their (Y/N's) place?" &/or something to that effect. Here's what I have for Mei, Pigsy, Tang, & Sandy.

TW: The reader [that's you] gets into a big fight. Mentions of combat, blood, violence, & bandaging/suturing (like that big, curved needle & all that). Comfort at the end of each.

A/N (Author's Note): I'm labeling this as NSFW as it is dealing with violent elements. I'll make a traditional NSFW version if this one gets some traction via likes & comments. Since there is often a lot to read in one sitting, I'll sever this up to a select few for now. even with the splitting, it is still a fair bit to read. On with the reading, enjoy.

🐉Mei Dragon

>She was so excited about some one-on-one time with you, finally!

>She had set things up to the nines for you; favorite snacks, drinks, fast-paced racing games & movies, karaoke, you name it.

>She was in her cozy PJs, snug on a mound of pillows & blankets that looked like a dragon lover's dream collection (she contributed a few things as you asked her to let you do you, "earn them yourself" as you put it).

>She agreed so long as she got to gift you some things on special yearly occasions; birthdays, holidays, anniversaries, etc. You can bet your bottom dollar that each & every single gift she got you fits you to a T. To the point where it's nearly uncanny that you'd gotten used to it quicker than you thought you would.

>Just as she reclined to stretch out on the cozy hill she heard the door to your apartment swing open against the dense drywall followed by a hard thud generously seasoned with curses in your voice.

>She felt a pit in her stomach, suddenly forgetting her want to stretch, slipping & sliding in her plushie dragon slippers to the source of the pained grunts to find you on the linoleum part of your doorstep.

>Your torn, tattered shirt did little to stop your essence from oozing onto the generic tile below you that acted as a mini-mudroom of sorts. Your jeans shared the same fate with your shoes soaked like the floor mixed with once-stagnant water.

>Mei was seething at the damage to your body & your favorite wardrobe choices as they were gifts from her, gifts you had been maintaining near-religiously.

>You loved those threads, too. You even scrounged to buy her a matching set that was safe in her room at her family's home.

>"Who did this to you, bestie!?" "Gimme a name, a face, license plate, I'll teach 'em to mess with you!"

>Your low chuckle surprises her until she spots the dark markings on your knuckles & knees. You fought back, brutally from what she could tell, too.

>"Don't worry, Mei Mei, I handled them well enough. They won't be giving me any more trouble anytime soon. Mind helping me to the bathroom to patch up?"

>Your smile is crimson, gums ooze, but you move your tongue over your side-front teeth as if to free something from between them. Had you taken a bite out of one of your attackers? Probably.

>That's a question for later.

>As you asked, she aided you to the bathroom. All the moving & stretching caused by said movements began releasing more of your life's essence, staining the wood-themed vinyl as you both shuffled to the small bathroom where you had stashed a massive first aid kit in. The kind medics would pack with them.

>Your hand shuffled through the open kit once you were seated on the closed toilet's top as Mei fidgeted in the doorway a mere three feet from you.

>"Those are some deep wounds..." She mused aloud, cringing when you pulled a suture needle out, its curved sturdy form shining in the dim light overhead.

>"That's why I got this." You spy her flinch in your periphery.

>"It's okay if you don't want to be present for this part, Mei Mei. You can step out if you'd like." She frowns pitifully.

>She wants to be there for you to help with your injuries. Holding the kit open for your convenience at the very least, but she just felt so uncomfortable around needles of nearly any kind. She doesn't know why & you never pressed for a reason.

>Once you calm her down, she agrees to step out & close the door dejectedly behind her.

>She nearly slipped on some drops of red that pooled under your foot when she was fighting with the weirdly shaped door handle.

>That's dangerous! You could slip & reopen your freshly stitched wounds! Not on her watch!

>Your robe, a usually soft & comfortable garb, felt different from your hides as you carefully tied it. The soft fabric snagged on the fresh stitches & raw wounds that simply needed to be cleaned. You would have bandaged them to hasten the healing process, but you had forgotten to restock that aspect in your arsenal of medical aids.

>Honestly, you blame the treats you passed by & began ogling on an empty stomach on your way to the pharmacy.

>Aching & fatigued, you limp to the door but stop at the smell of cleaning products.

>She had cleaned the whole apartment in the time it took you to join your severed skins back together. She was walking out with an emptied bucket adorned with an old rag & other scrubbing tools.

>A soft tilt of your head was all the "Thank You" she needed.

>You helped put the supplies away & together you both eased into the mound to enjoy the setup Mei had made up for you.

>Soon enough, your eyes drifted down seemingly with gravity hauling your lids over your eyes.

>Slumber came swiftly.

>While you rested, Mei paused her half of the game your character would have nearly crashed in if she hadn't put her avatar between yours & the obstacle right as she paused.

>With as light of a touch as she could muster, she pulls the fluffiest blanket over you to tuck you in. Good & cozy.

>With that, she began her research.

>She had faith & trust in your brawling abilities, she promises she does & you believe her, but she just couldn't let this go without having some tabs on whoever hurt you. Just to be safe.

>As much as she hates to admit it, she was happy to be able to see the imprint of one jerk's insignia ring that was left on your forehead.

>Tracking that scumbag & his buddies shouldn't take much time at all...

🐷 Pigsy

>He sat patiently in your kitchen, watching the pot's lid rattle with trapped steam as the dumplings cooked.

>You had both agreed to watch the Chang'e Cooking marathon you had both been excited to watch for over three months now.

>It took a little time to convince him, but he agreed on the condition that you cooked together while watching the countdown to the marathon's start.

>You agreed.

>Unlike the others who set up mountains of fabrics & pillows galore, he set up something simple: a couple of blankets, some pillows, healthy little snacks to follow the meal you were both going to make, that's it.

>He had stood up to check the noodles & dumplings when you staggered in, once-bagged groceries cradled in a gifted/found basket under your less bandaged arm before noticing your friend standing in your open kitchen.

>You thought back quickly to that scene in the park half an hour ago leading to your home, when some punks were picking on some unfortunate granny & her friends.

>How could you just walk away & turn a blind eye to such an attrocious act of disrespect & inhumanity!?

>The battle was gruesome, to put it lightly, but the Granny Squad managed to ban together & help you.

>One of the ladies gifted you her recently emptied sweets basket & head scarf to hold everything together after helping you wash the goods off with a nearby hose. Once that was taken care of, they focused on you & on as much as they could help you with (which was quite a lot).

>With cleaned ingredients in your arms, you thank the ladies fervently & dash off to put the items into proper storage.

>"Aw, noodles! The marathon!" You grit through blood-stained teeth as Pigsy blinks.

>He looks like he's stuck between shocked, confused, worried & upset.

>The countdown showed that there were still a couple hours left before the show started, so you looked to the boar in your kitchen sheepishly before shifting the tucked container to holding the covered basket of goods.

"Sorry about the ingredients, I tried to clean them as best as I could..."

>You tried to explain before he shook his head.

>Carefully, without causing any extra discomfort for you, he took the ingrediants & set them onto the countertop.

>One thing you've learned about your friend in the past few years of knowing him is that he may act all big & menacing, but he's arguably the sweetest guy you've known (Right by Tang & MK, of course).

>You thank him & scurry to your bathroom to properly clean up & bandage yourself with the added maintanance of your teeth so you could properly enjoy the meal undoubtedly leading to a taste sensation.

>When you step out to the living room, you're treated to Pigsy setting the last tray of food onto the coffee/tea table with a low grunt.

>For the remaining hour you two sat on the sofa, he bandaged the spots you couldn't reach for one reason or another, shared the dumplings & snacks, & conversed over your favorite Chang'e recipes, all drizzled with him telling you to be more careful on your way home from now on.

>With the finished meals' plates & utenciles cleaned of food & settled into the deep kitchen sink, you all bandaged up, the pair of you slouch into the couch, watching the last few minutes of the countdown tick by in comfortable silence.

"Hey, Pigsy?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks. For everything."

"No problem, Y/N."

>With that, the marathon began & was theroughly enjoyed.

👨🏻‍🏫 Tang

>You wanted to understand JTTW in-depth, you truly did, but your brain wouldn't let you. Tang to the rescue... Sort of.

>Name the type of Monkey King media available to the public & then some & you've barely scratched the surface of what Tang packed to your appartment with a little help from MK who had to leave for FFM.

>He hadn't done anything to set up your living room in any sort of special way aside from the merchandise & historical items.

>Okay, he got some Pigsy's take out to nibble on throughout the session.

>He even remembered your favorites!

>He just set the last "historically acurate" figurine & its stand onto the coffee/tea table when you groaned through your front door.

>You had stopped by a local supply shop for an ample amount of note taking material, just knowing how Tang was going to get once he got really into his favorite work & figure.

>Simple, mundane, task.

>Notebooks of favored rule (college rule or Wide rule, dotted & gridded paper is also an option), colored pens/pencils of your choosing, Monkey King stickers for Tang ranging from plain to shiny to puffy as a 'thank you' coupled with a Mankey Cop cap to wear whenever he pleased, & some drinks to go with the food he most likely sweet-talked out of Pigsy.

>You were nearly half way home when some ruffians jumped you to snatch the selectively academic & fandom items from you.

>They were most likely trying to steal your large totebag (labeled with "bookworm" in cutesy stenciled characters you had done with MK not too long ago) for the items within it to price gouge the merchandise in person or online, chug the drinks, even misusing the writing materials.

>The fight took a lot out of you, tore your bag & clothes, even saw you getting cut by one of the broken drink bottles when you tripped.

>You still managed to save the rest of the drinks but they partially stained the cap & your notebooks.

>Serves you right (affectionatly) for picking a brand that didn't wrap their product in the same wrapping your pens/pencils & stickers were protectively cloaked in.

>You had to coddle the items in your cut up arms like a baby, your wounds seemingly throbbing into a dull ache when you spotted Tang kneeling next to the figurine of a midflight Monkey King on his Cloud, staff in hand/paw.

>Despite your carrying two or three reminders of your preagreed plans, your focus was rattled about until you turned to settle your tattered bag onto the sofa in your living space.

>He was just as frozen as you were, both standing a few feet from the other.

"Uhm... *clicks tongue awkwardly* Imma go bathe & patch myself up. If you still wanna do this, you can stay. If not, I'll help you pack up once I'm done. Okay?"

>Tang nods nervously, glancing over your battered form & tote before you lurch to your bathroom.

>You were so busy cleaning yourself & clothing your injuries in the stock of medical items that you didn't notice Tang busying himself in the living room: Stitching your bag's edges back together, touching up the character with a marker near the same color group as best as he could, drying the pages of your notebooks with a hairdryer you had forgotten in your nightbag you had left in your living room that you said you'd pick up & put away days ago.

>You stagger out with a sigh to see Tang trying his best to save your sullied materials, seemingly not noticing that the drinks, stickers, or the cap was for him & not for you.

>You quietly watch his back as he mumbled to himself about worrying over your safety, how he'd learn to bandage your wounds whenever you needed, how he'd never let you walk alone again as he would guide you down the safest streets & paths he takes daily, even learning basic self defence to at least grant you a little back up when you needed it.

>Your tired eyes drift about, over the messily stitched up bag, the pencils/pens sitting in their case on the table beside the rest of the items, all surrounding Tang who was a little too focused on not burning your book's pages with the blowdryer.

>Strange how the rainbow of writing items stood out so starkly against the reds & golds that seemingly engulfed his emediate space.

>Without holding it back, you give a soft giggle which startles him into turning your way.

>He accadentilly blasted the dryer's air straight under his face in turning to you causing his hair to tussle wildly over his fogged glasses, earning another giggle from you.

"I- your things were a little beaten up &- well, they neede dto be fixed so you could learn- &- &-."

>Stammering is all he can do at the moment until you boop him from his sitting position as you now stood languidly beside him.

"Tangy, breathe. It's all good."

>He smiles in relief before glancing over the table with a now calmed gaze.

"Is that a Monkey Cop cap!? With the real badge & everything!?"

>He procedes to ramble happily, occasionally looking to you to see if you were listening to him speak before continueing on.

>You peacfully watched his adorable rambling expressions, quitly taking mental notes on whatever you could snag from the 100 mph info dumping.

>Not long after you both finish your meals (A task that took a while as you needed to cease his fanboying longenough to actually eat), you both sat on the sofa watching a SWK action movie of some kind he had picked out for you.

>The movie was good despite the overly amped up sfx & horribly down played dialog audio, though that's most action movies that you're aware of.

>Snoring catches your drowzy attention as you peek down to your side where Tang had slumped over the opposite arm of the couch, fast asleep.

>Knowing he gets enough back pain hunching over a study desk, you stand & lay him onto thsofa in a more comfortable position while removing his glasses to set them on the side table.

>Good thing you had plenty of lap blankets around for him. Pillows, too.

>Kneeling beside the snoring man, you can't help but tuck the blanket in to create a cozy setting for him.

>You'll have to reschedule the study session for later.

>For now, a light snooze sitting up by Tang would do your eyes some good.

Here it is! I haven't picked who I'm writing for next but I'll try to think of someone later. I hope you enjoyed & have a lovely day/night!

[gaysheep]

Touching is Good: A Retrospective

My trusty Nintendo 3DS, which has held out since I was gifted it for my 15th birthday, has turned one decade old with my 25th birthday this past November. Given new life with custom firmware and nds-bootstrap via TWiLightMenu, the 3DS is stellar for visiting any past handheld title or console title up to (and somewhat including) the N64. (Quick plug for the CFW/hacking community for the less popular PS Vita, too, which has accomplished some pretty crazy-cool stuff this last year.) I use my 3DS more often than I use my Nintendo Switch most weeks.

The Nintendo DS (minus the three) launched in late 2004. The second display and stylus support were novel tools for developers to experiment with, and the NDS is best remembered for its robust catalogue of RPGs and visual novels. Where it lacked in power, narrative-focused games flourished under its technical limitations.

That being said, while browsing the ROM archives on Vimm's Lair to pick up some titles, I was reminded of what an interesting era the mid-to-late 2000s were for games. While Sony and Microsoft were fighting over the "core gamer" demographic, who had outgrown Nintendo mascots, Nintendo led a series of wildly successful marketing campaigns for its hardware after the light failure of the Gamecube, where the Nintendo DS and then the Wii were targeted at...everyone else.

[Image source. Image description in alt text.]

If you look at ads for the DS and the Wii, you'll see that adults are featured much more prominently than children, especially women and seniors. (This did not go unnoticed, as I found this ancient relic of misogyny while looking for images for this post.) A Nintendo handheld was already an easy sell to parents with small children (though I think it's also notable that ads which do focus on children often prominently feature girls. Munchlax is pretty hot...), but Nintendo's angle for the DS and Wii was that their hardware wasn't just for children. The Wii was a way to get up off the couch and to play board games with grandma. The DS was a great gadget for a working woman to keep in her pocketbook.

This worked. The Wii and DS were two of the best-selling consoles of all time. In particular, the DS's marketing campaign only worked because it came out in the perfect window of time. PDA-phone hybrids had been around since the 90s, and the Blackberry had been kicking around for a few years, but the iPhone wouldn't be introduced until 2007, and the 4G LTE standard wouldn't be released until 2009. While the Blackberry was popular with businesspeople and the PDA was out of style, smartphones were luxury toys for several years; they wouldn't become near-ubiquious until the mid-2010s. I didn't get my own smartphone until probably around the same time I got my 3DS, a full handheld generation later.

Browsing the software library for the Nintendo DS and DSi with that in mind is really interesting. Many titles released for the platform serve the same purposes that would be fulfilled by simple smartphone apps less than a decade later: planners and diaries, fitness trackers, calculators, language learning and SAT prep software, even a guide to the then-most-recent version of the driver's test in the UK. These proliferated with the release of the DSi's virtual store, but they existed even with the base model. You could go to a brick-and-mortar store and buy them on physical cartridges. (You might be wondering, "Why would you bother carrying those around over just buying a Blackberry?" You can't underestimate how expensive the service bills for a smartphone were before companies realized they were the most powerful spyware tool in history.)

There was never a time where every single businesswoman in New York carried a DS Lite, but adults did buy and use them, and a not insignificant portion of the DS's software library is aimed at a casual adult audience. Another niche covered mostly by smartphone games these days—games designed to be picked up and played in short sessions on-the-go, in places like waiting rooms and subway commutes.

Nintendo made crazy bank in the seventh console generation. Publications of the time talked about a console war between Sony, Microsoft, and Nintendo, but the real battle was between the PS3 and the Xbox 360 over the gamer demographic. Nintendo was producing hardware for a niche who would quietly disappear once smartphone sales began ballooning by hundreds of millions per year over the course of the early 2010s.

After the failure of the Wii U, Nintendo's marketing strategy pivoted again, though I doubt they'll ever completely abandon their family-friendly image. Currently beat out only by the PS2 and the DS, the Nintendo Switch may very well climb to a status as the best-selling console of all time before the end of its lifespan, but the "gamer" demographic is much bigger than it was two decades ago at the dawn of the DS. As more and more devices become consolidated into the Swiss army knife the smartphone has become, consoles can only carve out a role as dedicated gaming machines.

I'm not sure we'll ever see anything like the Nintendo DS or the Wii again. I think they're worth looking back on for their uniqueness in that way as much as they are for the more celebrated parts of their libraries.

[lovevalley45]

#fictober24 - day twenty-nine

"How did this happen?"

original fiction (power payback)

word count: 1358

a/n: happy birthday @ginger-canary! i promised i would send emery to therapy for your birthday fic and um. technically he did go to therapy. also idk if i can do spoiler warnings for parts of my own novel i haven't released yet but this takes place post-SftS and thus kinda gives some things away abt emery's fate (but does not ruin the mystery dw).

Emery had never been a fan of doctors’ offices. He’d spent plenty of time having to pop into one Talent clinic or another - for his leg, for the various aches and pains he had when it got too cold or a storm started to roll in. 

Hell, over the past few years, he’d become a frequent flyer at one near the Vons he used to work at after particularly bad fights. They never asked questions, just checked him out and gave him prescriptions for pain meds that he never actually filled. 

The office of the therapist Dr. Coello had sent him to was no different. 

He sat in the waiting room, staring blankly at the sudoku in front of him. Bea had had good intentions when she told him he should see Dr. Lynwood. He was the type of therapist he should’ve seen after his burnout; Dr. Lynwood’s speciality was actually helping Talents overcome their post-burnout trauma. 

But this was post-burnout trauma, just… many years after the fact. 

She had been concerned that he couldn’t talk about what happened. However, therapy didn’t help with a legal agreement that he wasn’t allowed to discuss what had happened to him outside of a Silver Spade-approved story. That was the price he’d paid to have his medical bills paid, including covering the cost of a nice prosthetic to replace the lower half of his leg that doctors had been unable to salvage. Not that it was ready for him to actually use yet.  

“Emery Gori?”

He set down the newspaper he’d picked up and grabbed his crutches. Figuring out how to live with a leg and a half was no biggie. After all, he’d basically been living that way since he was 15. But he hated the looks that the receptionist gave him, cloying pity. 

At least he still had his other scars covered. 

“Dr. Lynwood’s office is down the hall, second door to the left,” she informed him. 

“Thanks.” 

When Emery reached the door, he just knocked, not wanting to accidentally make a fool of himself. Thankfully, the therapist didn’t just call for him to come in, opening the door for him to make his way inside. 

The office was simple, but cozy. Sunlight seeped through the open window, filling the room with natural light. 

“Emery. I’m glad you could make it.” Dr. Lynwood was an older man, maybe in his 60s, if he had to guess. His long, white hair was tied back in a ponytail. But the rest of his vibe was proper - not uptight, but proper. “You can sit over there and we can begin. Have you ever… done something like this before?” 

“Talk therapy? No.” Emery took a seat on the couch, leaning his crutches against the chair. It was always kinda strange to figure out what to do with his legs when he sat now; there was just enough left of his leg that leaving it dangling over the edge of the couch made him feel exposed. But he tried to clear that out of his mind, to get out of his head about it. 

“Okay. We can start slow.” Dr. Lynwood sat down in the armchair facing him. “Let’s just unpack why you’re here. Such as… how did this happen?” 

Emery tried to weigh what he could say and what he couldn’t. He could be sparse enough and not unpack all the details. “I was abducted and kept hostage. And they wanted to make sure I couldn’t run, so-” He swallowed. “My dad shot me in the leg when I was young. And the bullet never got removed, I-” He tugged down the mask he was wearing. “Yeah.” 

Dr. Lynwood didn’t flinch. He remembered the therapist had dealt with many burnt out Talents; this was probably the least gnarly thing he’d seen. Okay, maybe not least gnarly. “So they did something to the bullet in your leg.” 

“Uh-huh. Sorta… pushed it in more. Pushed it in wrong. So then my leg was even more jacked up than before and they amputated it. Just thought it’d be easier.” 

He scribbled something down in the notepad on his lap. Emery wondered what he had found of such note. “How recent was this abduction?” 

“A month ago? Maybe more like a month and a half.” He tucked his hands in the pocket of his hoodie. “My friend’s mom suggested I see someone because I’ve been having night terrors. Like, bad ones. But I don’t remember them.” 

Dr. Lynwood raised an eyebrow. “You don’t remember them?” 

“No. Apparently I just wake up and try to run, but obviously-” Emery gestured to his bad leg. “Someone has to stop me or I just hurt myself.” 

“Well, you were held captive for- how long?” 

“A week. Around that.” 

“Yes. Even what might seem like an inconsequential amount of time, a week, can still leave quite the impression on one’s psyche.” He tapped his pen against his notepad. “So you haven’t been remembering your nightmares?” 

“I’m not sure if they’re nightmares. Or if I’m just…” He tried to figure out the best way to put it into words. “Forgetting. That I’m not there anymore.” 

Dr. Lynwood didn’t look convinced. He jotted something else down and met Emery’s eyes. “Have you had any other incidents like this? In your day-to-day life?”

“Not really. But I’ve been pretty reclusive since I got back from the hospital. Aside from going in for appointments and getting fitted for my prosthetic, this is really my first time leaving the house.” Emery sighed. “Maybe I don’t need to be here.” 

“If you’re having these terrors, it’s probably a sign that there’s something else going on. We don’t have to discuss the details of your abduction if you’re not ready, but do you… remember everything?” 

Emery seriously considered lying. Then if he didn’t talk about something, couldn’t talk about something, he could use that excuse. Instead, he nodded. “Yeah. Every moment.” 

He wrote something else down into his notepad - yeah, he was gonna regret being honest there. “Would it feel better if you did discuss some of those details?” 

He wondered what he could say - what he was allowed to say. But he thought of one. “I wasn’t the only one. I wanted to get out so bad. Even with my leg, I was going to try to make a run for it. They had tied me to the bed and I had been rubbing at my wrists to try and make a file.” Emery’s fingers dropped down the rash-like scars that covered his inner wrists, under the cuff of his hoodie, grounding himself in the tactile sensation. Trying to remember that it was real, but that it was in the past. “But I heard one of them talking to her. And I knew who it was, she’d gone missing before me. And I knew I couldn’t just leave without getting her out too, but I was gonna barely be able to get myself out. And I felt helpless.” 

Dr. Lynwood handed him a tissue. He felt mildly embarrassed that he hadn’t noticed he was crying. The realization that Misty was there, like it wasn’t something he’d had a hunch about but now knew was true, was something he hadn’t told Haley, or anyone else. He hadn’t wanted to admit that he’d given up there. Misty hadn’t been locked up the same way - no, the methods used to contain her and her Talent had been demeaning in a different way. But he hadn’t known that then. 

Emery, who had made it a point to never give in, whether against his dad or the pain that set in with every step, had given up.

“But you got out. You’re out now,” Dr. Lynwood reminded him. “And she’s out too, yes?” 

Emery nodded. “Yeah. We’re out.” It had been an ordeal, but they were out. 

“And now, you can heal. You can both heal.”

“But healing hurts,” he muttered. 

“You’d certainly know much better than me. But Emery, it’s not something to be scared of.” 

Emery wiped away the last of his tears. “I’m not scared. I think I’m ready.”

[ohthatphage]

Making Friends with Entropy

I just wrote this three chapter story for request via @a-system-of-giving and their AO3 plural writing exchange. It's original, as requested, to be released on AO3 under the Vanderkemp's names (a group of system members who are our AO3 voice), but with my voice and narration.

It is perhaps a little too canon to the Tunnel Apparati Diaries. It's basically the prequel.

I don't know if I can publish it to AO3 without it functioning as a promotion for that writing. So, I'm publishing it here first, and then to our own website, completely free to read. And then, after reviewing AO3's policies, we might post it there as archived work.

If it looks like doing that may be a risk to them, and against their policy, then I'll write something else for the exchange. There's time, and this work represents 9,267 in one day. Shouldn't be a problem.

I'd like to thank @ashwin-the-artless for starting the Tunnel Apparati Diaries and then coaxing me to write for myself.

First chapter is in this post. Second and third chapters will be reblogs, and then Fenmere will reblog that. Enjoy!

Chapter 1: Bedtime

In the early 21s century of Earth, on a small farm in Thurston county, Washington, in the United States of America, the social construct known as Jeremy Schmidt spent one late evening pushing a plastic truck around on the carpet with city streets printed on it that he’d inherited from his father.

It wasn’t his favorite game.

He would rather have been on his mountain in the back yard, bathing the sky with gouts of flame and scaring errant knights away from his twin sister, who was mysteriously human.

He was not supposed to be awake.

It was 11 pm, and a school night.

A few years later, he would learn that most of his classmates stayed up much later than that, but he was not yet socially aware enough to pick up on their conversations. He was still too preoccupied by making sense of other things, such as why his hands didn’t have claws, or what his tail was doing when the Sunday school teacher was busy trying to convince everyone that they all had another bigger father or something absurd like that.

He thought every seven year old’s bedtime was 8pm. Similar to how he thought he was a boy.

Which is to say that bedtime and boyhood, and even humanity, were rules imposed by adults, and everyone like him was expected to follow them.

In any case, he couldn’t sleep that night, and instead of lying in bed with the lights off, terrified of all the darkest corners of his room, he was taking his mom’s advice in a way that she probably hadn’t intended.

But, he had just figured something out, and was pretty excited about it. And playing truck on the floor was his way of testing this idea.

When an adult gives you conflicting rules, maybe you get to decide how to interpret them and which rule takes precedence in a given situation. After all, rules don’t just come from adults, they also come from the world itself, such as the rule that if you trip and fall you will, nine times out of ten, scrape your knee and hand. And if you have a good sense of rules, maybe better than anybody else, you can explain how you were following the most important rules.

And the way this situation worked was this.

He was afraid of the dark.

He was supposed to get enough sleep for school. That was a rule.

But if there was any darkness near him, he couldn’t sleep. That was also a rule.

So it was ultimately up to him to figure out how to sleep at night.

And for a while he did that by sleeping with the lights on.

So his parents left his room’s lights on when he went to bed, and he’d been sleeping with the lights on since he was three. But, every other birthday, they’d coax him to try sleeping with one more of his lights turned off, because it was supposed to be healthier to sleep in the dark.

So, now, he only had his clip-on reading lamp on the head of his bed turned on as a nightlight, and his parents were telling him that after his next birthday, he was supposed to switch that out for a softer, genuine plug-in nightlight that would be placed in the wall across the room from his bed.

But the thing was, he was pretty sure he wasn’t sleeping at all at night. Just lying in bed absolutely terrified.

His parents claimed he did sleep, and that they checked on him and he didn’t notice. But he only ever remembered being awake and being extremely sleepy all day, and it was getting worse.

And his parents could see that he was struggling. And though the way they usually did things was to tell him what to do, and then restrict his privileges until he did that thing, after long enough, sometimes three or so years of fruitless restrictions, they’d sometimes try to help him meet their goals for him.

So, recently his mom had given him another rule, and this rule had sort of made things snap into place for him.

Initially, she hadn’t worded it like a rule.

It had been a conversation that had happened earlier that night, in fact.

At seven pm, he’d been told that his mom wanted to talk to him about something before bed, she wanted to help him with a trouble he was having, and he should be ready to talk to her at seven thirty. They gave him this “heads up” because they had long ago figured out that he needed time to “shift gears” and adjust to change from the usual routines. And, to compensate for this conversation, he’d be allowed to doddle a little on his way to bed, because he might need to be brushing his teeth at 8pm and instead of ten to eight, and tonight that would be OK.

He’d found that he was eager to have this talk, so he was ready five minutes before the time it was supposed to happen. And he spent that five minutes talking amongst himself about what the subject would be.

Which is to say, he talked to his imaginary twin sister about it.

She had no idea what the subject would be, either, but she was worried it was going to be about their eating habits.

He pointed out that if their parents wanted to talk about their eating habits, they’d schedule this talk for before dinner, not after it.

And she said that made sense.

Then she asked if she could talk to their mom, too, but he shook his head quickly and sadly, and said, “She doesn’t know about you.”

“And she doesn’t have to!” his sister, who didn’t have a name yet, replied. “She’ll just think I’m you!”

“That scares me,” he said, though. “She might figure it out. You talk different.”

“I do not!”

“Shsh.”

He’d realized at the last minute that they were both using his mouth at that point, and didn’t want to explain what kind of game he was playing to his mom if she’d heard.

But he was glad for the little conversation anyway, because it had helped make that five minutes pass more quickly.

Then his mom came into the room and sat down on the floor with him.

“Jeremy?” she said. “Can I ask you something I’ve asked before?”

He pretended to look up at her face and nodded, eyes blinking closed.

“What is it exactly that you’re afraid of at night? Is it the dark itself? Or what’s in the dark?”

Oh, it was this conversation!

This had been a conversation he actually wanted to have, but he was also, he was realizing, kind of afraid of it itself.

So, unfortunately, he fell silent and his mind went blank. He couldn’t even feel his sister thinking or having emotions. So he looked down at the floor and sort of shook his head and sort of shrugged.

“Are you afraid of having nightmares if it’s dark?” his mom asked.

He vaguely remembered his first nightmare. He’d been really small at the time, and all he could remember was waking up screaming, and both his parents coming into his room to see if he was OK, and then asking him if he had a nightmare. And he thought he could remember nodding eventually, and that’s how he knew he’d had a nightmare.

After that, he’d had nightmares he could remember. Recurring nightmares about being chased by his grandma’s dog, or falling off a cliff, or finding only darkness in his parents’ closet.

Maybe it was that last one that made him afraid of the dark. But, also, he knew that when it was dark and there was a shadow on the floor or in the corner, he was always certain that it was dangerous. That maybe there was a monster there.

Whatever a real monster actually was. Like, maybe a triffid or that invisible thing on the alien planet, or a troll, like in the movies his dad watched and laughed at. But different. Real.

Oh, he was thinking again! He did kind of like it when a prompt from his mom got his thoughts going again.

“I think it’s monsters,” he found himself saying.

“Ah,” his mom said, glancing toward his door, presumably in the direction of his dad. She gave him a sad, rueful smile and asked, “Are they like the monsters in your dad’s movies?”

“Kind of?” he said. “But more like the monsters that want to be in my nightmares.”

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“Well,” he explained. “When I have my falling off a cliff nightmare, I’m being chased by something, but I can’t look at it or it will be real. And it will get me. And then there’s the cliff. And I can’t stop myself from going off the cliff. And then I land in my bed and it shakes.”

“Oh, I’ve had that very same dream!” his mom exclaimed.

“Really?” he didn’t believe her, but he let her tell him she did. He knew better than to outright question his parents. And maybe she’d say something cool anyway.

“Oh, yes. It’s actually really common. A lot of people have that same dream,” she explained. “I’ve been reading a book about dreams and what they mean. And that one’s supposed to mean you’re avoiding something. Or something like that. But, there’s a cool part in the book about something called lucid dreaming that I think could help you, and something my grandma, your grandma’s mother, told me. It might help you stop having that nightmare, and maybe you won’t have to be afraid of the dark anymore.”

“Really?” he asked again, actually looking up to her eyes this time. He was hopeful. This sounded actually cool. Like maybe he’d be taught a super power. Even if he was also skeptical about it. But he only glanced at her eyes for a split second, long enough to make that emotional contact and check her sincerity, but not long enough to make him hurt.

“Yes, I think so,” she said. “My grandma told me that the secret to beating a nightmare is to turn and face it. If you have something that is chasing you, you need to stop and turn around and face it, and tell it to be your friend. Because it’s only a dream, and if you do that you take control and it can’t hurt you.”

This sounded totally bonkers to him. The idea of doing that made his heart race. He couldn’t at all imagine doing that.

“But what if it gets me?” he asked.

“Tell it that it can’t,” she said. “Say to it, in no uncertain terms, ‘you cannot get me, you are not allowed.’ Make it a rule.”

“No uncertain terms?” he asked.

She nodded, “No uncertain terms. ‘You cannot get me, you are not allowed.’ In fact, you can tell it I said so. It’s my rule. Your nightmares aren’t allowed to get you.”

“I don’t think they care about you,” he told her.

“Well,” she said. “The important thing is that it’s your rule. It’s your mind, and your dream, and you make the rules. That’s how it works. It cannot hurt you if you don’t want it to.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really,” she nodded. “This works for falling off the cliff, too. If you still can’t face the monster behind you, when you fall off the cliff, you can fly instead. Just spread your arms wide, close your eyes in your dream, and imagine going up instead of going down. Imagine the ground falling away from you.”

“How do I do that though? I can’t control my dreams!” his voice maybe got a little loud.

“Well, you can, though,” she said. “It’s a skill, but you can learn it. That’s what the book I’m reading meant by ‘lucid dreaming’. It’s when you realize you’re in a dream and that you can do anything you want.”

“How?”

“Well, usually, what you do is before you go to bed every night, you tell yourself that you’re going to have a lucid dream,” she said. “It doesn’t usually work right away. But it helps, and if you do it repeatedly, you’ll eventually start to make it work. And then, you keep a lookout for things that tell you that you’re dreaming, like a monster chasing you.”

“What do you mean?” he felt like he was supposed to ask this question when she paused, so he did. He knew what she meant.

“Well, monsters don’t actually chase you when you’re awake, do they?” she asked.

This was becoming a long conversation and he could feel the darkness closing in as the night fell. It felt dangerous.

He shook his head, but then stopped and said, “Kensington chases me.”

“Yeah, but only when you have a peanut butter and jelly sandwich or a carrot in your hand, right?”

“Yeah, like I’m still a toddler or something.”

“He’s a naughty airedale,” she said.

“Only when I have a sandwich or a carrot, though,” he agreed. “But in my dreams he just chases me.”

“Exactly,” she said, patting his knee. “So, if he’s chasing you when you aren’t holding food, you know you’re dreaming, right? Or if you’re being chased by something that you don’t even know what it is because you haven’t looked at it.”

“Yeah.”

“Also. Can you tell you’re not dreaming right now?”

“Oh, yeah. I’m definitely not dreaming right now!”

“That’s another way for you to check,” she said. “Some people have a hard time telling whether they’re dreaming or not, because their brains work like that. Maybe sometimes they actually dream when they’re awake, too. So it makes things complicated. But because you know you’re awake when you’re actually awake, if you ever find yourself wondering if you’re awake or in a dream, you’re probably dreaming. But, then, ask yourself if you’re being chased by something that can’t be real, just to make sure. And if the answer is yes, then you know it’s a dream, and then you make the rules.”

“Oh.”

And that’s what she’d told him.

The important part was, “And then you make the rules.” That was so crucial. That’s where the actual power lay. That was permission. And it didn’t just come from his mom, but from a book and from his great grandmother. So it was extra right.

But, and as he brushed his teeth he thought about this, it was the part about how some people dreamed when they were even awake that made everything click into place for him.

Because maybe the monsters behind the darkness he felt were there when he was lying in bed were really dream monsters. So, he should have power over them if he faced them.

Which was why, at 11pm, he was brazenly playing with his truck on the printed town carpet with only his bed lamp on.

He was playing innocent, to try to lure a monster out so that he could face it.

He’d started at 9pm, after laying in his bed for a while thinking more about what his mom had said. It had taken about that long for him to formulate his plan and then work up the courage to carry it out.

And after he forced his body to move and climb down out of his bed, he played with a few different toys, getting into the routine of them to let the time pass, because, it turned out, the monsters weren’t brave enough to face him, apparently.

But he wasn’t playing make-believe with his toys. He was just pushing them through the motions of play, like he used to do as a toddler. Making the wheels spin. Feeling the changes in friction against the texture of the carpet as he made them turn corners and skid. Transforming them into robots and then back into cars and trucks, and appreciating their construction and the way the hinges worked.

And his sister just watched, because that’s usually what she did.

And time did pass really quickly then.

And it was around 11pm that he started to wonder if monsters were even real.

But, the really important part about 11pm is that that’s when his parents finally fell fast asleep and were unlikely to hear him talking to someone or something. And while he didn’t know that, I did.

So that’s when I stepped out of the darkness.

[apompkwrites]

October 18, 2022

Heartbeat Anon here! Okay, listen. I have about the attention span of a walnut. I swear I meant to actually send the writing thing I did of Lilia, I just. My brain wandered off. And didn’t come back until like a month later. BUT STILL! Also, I’m lowkey internally crying cause the Shroud update was released on my probably birthday!! (It’s complicated why it’s ‘probably’) Anyways! Here the Older!Vanrouge!Y/N ! I wrote the original mid October of last year, I need to blow off the dust this is copy pasted straight not straight gay haha from my notes so there’s also a tiny bit of me talking at the beginning.

I looooooove the ideas for Vanrogue!Name. While I do like them being a traveler from the get go, I also like them being the more sickly sibling growing up and seeing their brother do so much, maybe sacrificing so much of his future to help take care of them.

Vanrogue!Name seeing their brother do such amazing things for the fae, but also seeing him turn away opportunities to do even greater in order to stay near them at least some of the time and take care of them. They feel bad cause they’re the older sibling, but their little brother is the one taking care of them and not the other way around.

Growing up, they’d always been frail and sickly, always having to have someone watch them and be near them incase something happened. Constant checkups and doctors appointments were normal for them. They never could go outside and run around and play like all the other young fae children. They were stuck inside the walls of wherever their treatment was being held. Even then, it wasn’t the same, having to often move around to this or that doctor. The scenery changed. The people changed. The places changed. It felt like only they and their brother were the same. Only they, their brother, and the stories that they read while they lie in bed.

When both they and Lilia were still youth in fae time, they would read to Lilia and even make up some stories to tell him. He was always so cute listening intently to them spin tales like the great Thorn Fairy spun from the spinning wheel. His Ruby red eyes would sparkle with excitement, so much excitement that he accidentally made some objects in the room float a bit. They didn’t mind though. They just loved to spend time with their brother.

Lilia was at first hesitant to leave his siblings side by order of the Queen for all able bodied fae to gather and train to prepare for a war they seemed to be on the losing side of. Vanrogue!Name encouraged him. Even told him to become like the great fae heroes in the stories they used to read. Lilia promised to come back a hero for them to make them proud. Vanrogue!Name just smiled and told him he already was one in their eyes.

While Lilia was away, something seemed to change with Vanrogue!Name. At first, the doctors panicked, thinking it to be something bad and were preparing for the worst, to send a letter to the steadily rising star trainee telling of his siblings passing. It wasn’t bad though. The very opposite of bad in fact. It was incredible. It seems their body had been for some reason fighting against their magick. They don’t know exactly what changed or what triggered it, they not their doctors, but after one last very bad plunge, they seemed to soar higher than the clouds could ever go.

Their health improved, they could walk without losing their breath, they could perform magick that would render them unconscious when they were younger, they could even cast spells that some of the most advanced fae found difficult. It was odd, but also… freeing. Suddenly a whole new word opened up to them.

The doctors say that their body may’ve been afraid of the powerful magick and that both were at war with each other, causing their poor health and weak magick. Something happened or something triggered for the two to conjoin and now they work so beautifully in harmony. The doctors say that they’re one of the most powerful fae in many millennia, especially at their age.

Of course, the doctors feared that this would be temporary and that the body and magick would war against each other again. Checkups became a bit more frequent before slowly dwindling down.

In their letters to and from their brother, they told him of the entire experience and journey, from the near death(to which he was tempted to abandon his post to check on his sibling, but Vanrogue!Name sternly told him not to and even threatened him with a few childhood secrets, to which he, albeit reluctantly, backed down), to their steadily growing health, to their surge in magickal prowess.

This is where I left it in my notes and past this is where I’m picking it back up

Both Vanrouge siblings grew in status and power, soaring up the ranks in multiple aspects. It was a change for both of them. And after the war ended, even more opportunities opened up, it was wonderful! Or… at least it should’ve been.

Vanrouge!Name was aware of how many opportunities in the past their brother passed up to be with them, to stay by their side, to take care of them. It wasn’t fair to him. And they know he’s going to go and do that again once they reunite. They won’t let him pass up these these chances of greatness, of wealth, of fame, of power, of happiness… even if they’re not with him.

They didn’t really have a choice before, their body being so weak and sickly, they couldn’t look out for or take care of themself, no matter how much they wanted. So Lilia did it for them.

But now they do. They have a choice. Their body is stronger than ever, healthier than ever, better than ever. And now they can look after Lilia, their younger brother who grew up looking after them. So they’ll do it. Even if it hurts deep inside, they want what’s best for their younger brother who threw away so many years taking care of the one fae who was supposed to take care of him. So they’ll do it for him. They’ll make their choice. And leave.

By that time, they were discharged for the hospital, but still had some light surveillance just incase of a relapse, so it was easy to disappear. Especially with their powerful magick that now worked with their body instead of against it. So they left. Packed up a few belongings and a treasured storybook that they and Lilia made when they both were younglings and disappeared into the night. The only thing signifying that it was they who left on their own volition, was a note to Lilia. Telling him to live a long happy life. To take life by the reigns for the first time and do what he wanted to do. That they’ve decided to travel the world and all the realms since their body is now good enough to do so.

When Lilia arrived at their shared home, when he saw that the house was empty, when he searched high and low for his sibling, when what he found instead was a note, he did not cry. He did not weep. No tears left his eyes. A pained mournful wail broke from his throat instead. No tears would fall, but his sorrowful cry broke the hearts of all those who heard.

Many years have passed. Lilia now has a son. He has a ward in an old battle compatriot’s grandson. He now watches over the Briar Valley heir apparent. He also now goes to a school called Night Raven College.

Many years have passed and many new tales are being played and have ended and have begun.

There are rumors of a mysterious traveling storyteller. Their appearance is unknown, all information regarding it is contradictory. So is their origin and even their species. The only thing known about them for a fact is that they can spin magnificent tales like the great Thorn Fairy spun from the spinning wheel. That and that they always carry an old book. When asked what the book is, they reply that it is a book of stories they and someone else made before they began traveling.

When asked what they did before they began their endless journey or who the author was, they’d just redirect the conversation with a story.

Many years have passed. Vanrouge!Name is now little more than a storyteller for all who wish to listen or will give a lending ear. They’ve been to many places. They’ve come up with more stories inspired by those places. They’ve basically become a legend in their own right.

They haven’t seen their brother in centuries. They tried to discreetly keep up with him, but that proved too difficult. They hope he’s happy wherever he is. They hope he took the chances he got since they weren’t in the way anymore.

They’ve been invited to visit a school as a sort of guest speaker. A strange bird like fae asked them while they were in the land of the Scalding Sands to come to the school he is the Headmage at. They don’t really know why the strange fae would want them as a speaker for… something, but hey, it’s a new opportunity. Maybe they can make a new story with their experience at the school. And so they make their way to be a guest speaker at Night Raven College.

————————-

Okay! That’s that! Wooo! Have that lil bit of angst type stuff! Hopefully my walnut attention span will let me come back sooner than a month later! Uh. I hope this was okay? It turned out longer than I expected…oh! Fun fact! I had planned from the very beginning way back months ago for the sibling to leave so Lilia could be “free” of them, and I somehow remembered that detail! I hope you like this writing, uh, blurb? This writing thing I sent. Feel free ofc to share your thoughts and opinions and even add stuff onto it if you wish! Hopefully tumblr doesn’t freak out from the long ask…

- Heartbeat Anon

hi omg it's been so long almost a year D:

absolutely obsessed with the idea that sickly vanrouge, after getting better, wandered the entirety of twisted wonderland and they collected their stories to tell people.

but their favorite story to tell is that of the fearsome briar valley general

[mrs-monaghan]

Uhmm he did looked a bit sad when he spoke about JK being busy but usually they don't spent whole bday together anyway. When JM came back in 2019, it was just 2 hours more till his bday is over. Last year, all he got is few hours or even less as he was busy af and went back to work after cake cutting. He wasn't even able to meet RM who's bday is in same month and is living near him. Even if they both are free, after they celebrate with each other they go to their freinds, parents etc. So I don't think not being able to whole day together was his problem.

Maybe he indeed couldn't meet up with JK nor cut the cake with him ? That's why he was sad because even after being in same place they couldn't see each other. Idk shaz I believe what he said. He said he talked to him yesterday. He couldn't even talk to him today nor visit him, if he did he would've mentioned it and it didn't looked like he ommited anything either. Anyway just two more months Jiminie 🥺🥺🥺 after that he'll be probably free. JM will be busy by then but I don't think he'll release new album this year so it will be fine. And I hope they won't enlist this year either. As we only have 4 months left and 2 older members are yet to enlist, Joon already said he's not gonna enlist soon lol.

When JM was preparing his album probably this separation didn't affected him much as he was so invested in FACE but it took a toll on JK. I hope mimi will be able to get through this without getting so sad 🥺

U mentioned 2 birthdays he wasn't there all day out of how many birthdays? Yeah anon, I disagree. Also just coz he made the effort for JK don't mean he was gonna do the same for RM. So again, I disagree.

They were together on JK's birthday and I disagree with anyone who says they weren't. Sorry. Jimin aint missing JK's birthday and JK aint going his birthday without seeing his man. I cannot accept this guys, sorry 😂😂😂

No karaoke? No long live? Couldn't get out of there fast enough? Aaaaaaah... They were together. This is my unshakeable opinion but y'all are free to think what you want. By all means

[hesterias]

hello lovely 😘 4, 5, and 13 for the arctic monkeys asks! 💞

Thank you so much for creating this and sending asks.

4. which member of the band would you like to spend an afternoon with, and why? how would you spend your time?

my first instinct is to say alex, because i'd love to pick his brain creatively and see what he enjoys doing on a normal day, see his habits. most likely go to the cinema or an art exhibit or a show or just have a nice day in the park followed by some pints at a pub. i think we both have an introverted extrovert thing going on, where we can talk to anyone but actively choose not to. BUT i think i'd most likely vibe best with matt, he seems so fun. we'd probably go to the beach (i live in CA), or stroll the city and take photographs/talk photography and people-watch. he seems hilarious. so either one of those choices would be good. matt would be a fun hang, alex would be an artsy, intellectual hang.

5. which album means the most to you?

definitely tbh+c. before the release of TC, i wasn't a big monkeys fan. not that i didn't like them, i just knew the AM hits and that's it, never investigating further. @reconciledviolence729 got me into the fandom and her favorite album was tbhc and she bought me the vinyl for my birthday last year. such a great, unexpected gift and i listened to it often. i even spent an evening listening to it with my dad while we drank wine and just.... listened to it. it was amazing, such a great experience, so yeah, tbhc is a special (and pretty perfect) album for me.

13. what are some of your favourite lyrics alex has written?

haha can i quote all of tbh+c? (seriously, all of tbhc) as you can probably guess by my blog (and the little nod to it in ASA) i love

i've been on a bender back to that prophetic esplanade, where i ponder all the questions, but just manage to miss the mark (such an introspective line)

My mistakes were made for you / And in the back room of a bad dream she came / And whisked me away

With folded arms you occupied the bench like toothache Stood and puffed your chest out like you never lost a war And though I tried so not to suffer the indignity of a reaction There was no cracks to grasp or gaps to claw

Yesterday's still leaking through the roof That's nothing new

I'd throw the rose tint back on the exploded view Darling, if I were you And how's that insatiable appetite?

There's all those places we used to go And I suspect you already know But that place on memory lane you like still looks the same But something about it's changed

You pushed my faith near being lost But we'll stick to the guns Don't care if it's marketing suicide We won't crack or compromise Your derisory divides Will never unhinge us

But seriously. All of TBHC is gold. Tagging @mrsnarl and @m0nkfys because they asked these too 🫶🏼