#since i understand it can be overwhelming when you first start getting into CC

[oakiyo]

you've probably already been asked this before but how did you start out making cc and where did you learn to make it?

Hi! Learning CC can be a pretty daunting task and can seem really overwhelming, but the best/most effective way that I learnt was by watching speed meshes from other creators, and reading tutorials. Easier said than done, I know.

I think my first piece of advice before actually creating any content is familiarising yourself with the different programmes involved and how to navigate them. Blender, Photoshop (alternative photo editing programmes will work) and Sims 4 Studio are the essential tools to make custom content - there are a plethora of tutorials out that covering the UI, navigation, and shortcuts to move around and do certain things.

My second piece of advice is to just go for it - start with whatever knowledge you may have. This might be cropping a t-shirt or adding bangs to a hair - really simple mesh edits. Then, when you encounter an issue along the way, find a fix for that specific issue, whether that might be cuts, or UV textures.

It would be pretty hard to just make a singular tutorial on how to make custom content as it is a fairly complex 'thing' and there are so many unique ways of doing it. I'll list some helpful sources and tutorials under the 'keep reading' that I have read or made over the past couple years.

Tutorials:

SimLaughLove made huge masterlist post of tutorials and tips for creating custom content, which is where I read the majority of tutorials I used to get started.

Aharris00britney has quite a few speed meshes on their YouTube channel that I used a lot when understanding more complicated stuff like proportional editing and making textures.

About a year or so ago I made a weight tutorial for hairs that I still use to this day and has not failed me since.

Actually, I have a whole tutorials tab on my blog if you see anything there that interests you!

myshunosun has a lot of helpful resources and tutorials for build and buy custom content, if that's more your thing (link 1, link 2)

Other people on YouTube such as illogicalsims have some amazing beginner friendly tutorials for all sorts of content creation.

Useful links:

Sims4Studio

Blender 2.76

Photoshop

S4CASTools

Nvidia Texture Tools Exporter

If there is anything you don't think I have covered of think is worth me including, please let me know and I'll be sure to add it here! Creating custom content can seem really overwhelming and it is inventible to get frustrated and angry along the way - believe me I have had many a meltdowns over issues with my CC. Another point I want to mention is to never feel scared or as though you are being annoying when asking other people (myself included) for help. I am more than welcome to help you with your CC issues, just shoot me a message and I'll do my best to explain what your issue is and how to fix it.

If there are any areas you want to see covered in a tutorial please let me know and I'll try my best to write one.

[electrosweaters-arts]

PLEASE- PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD GIVE ME YOUR HYDE X ADAM HEADCANONS! I HAVE BEEN OBSESSED WOTH THIS WEIRD CRACKSHIP FOREVER SO PLZ GIVE ME YOUR HEADCANONS

FINALLY THE PEOPLE UNDERSTAND HOW PERFECT THEY ARE FOR EACH OTHER <3 GAHHH I TALK ABOUT THEM SO MUCH ITS HARD TO EVEN THINK OF WHAT HEADCANONS TO TALK ABOUT

Fucked up that you can get banned from tumblr for saying what Adam and Hyde are doing to each other but I will try

First of all, their ship name is Creationshipping <3 @lonely-space-egg came up with it and I'm obsessed with it thank you Peri

They're in an open/polyamorous relationship and Hyde is also dating Utterson, hi Utterson \O. Adam and Utterson are very good friends <3

Hyde loves when Adam holds him but usually he won't ask to be and will instead just start trying to climb up Adam until he picks him up.

Adam is incredibly encouraging of all Hyde's indulgences, they both encourage each other to act without worrying what others think and to Adam? Hyde can commit a few felonies, as a treat. It's cute

Hyde initially avoided telling Adam that he was a scientist since he was afraid Adam would take it badly due to his relationship with Victor

Adam loves animals but animals HATE Hyde so he makes sure to keep them away from him for both their safety. He tried to keep a pet rabbit once and Hyde had to get 30 stitches

Adam is one of the only people Hyde has spilled his entire life story to, along with all the trauma of his childhood has Jekyll and nuances of his relationships with his family and friends, and all the pressure and stress and guilt that lead up to him creating Hyde in the first place. He actually surprised himself with how quickly he opened up to Adam but he just seemed like he could understand on a level no one else could, and he did <3

Hyde has a constant fear of abandonment and sneaks some of Adam's clothing out with him whenever he leaves so he can sniff it if he's feeling lonely. Adam noticed and started leaving out gym clothes for him.

Adam sometimes bends down to Hyde's level in public and whispers something that makes Hyde burst out laughing, falling on the ground and everything, making a scene.

Hyde has trouble sleeping because his form causes him to have a ton of increased adrenaline at all times, but Adam's tired he lets him hold him while he sleeps and Hyde spends pretty much the entire time awake and wide-eyed staring at the wall.

When Hyde does sleep he is a BED HOG, he somehow takes up more space than an 8 foot tall man and sleeps with all of his limbs out. He also takes all the blankets only to then ball them up underneath his feet.

Sometimes Hyde just wordlessly plops his entire body weight onto Adam and they lay like that for hours not saying a word

Hyde was a bit uneasy at first finding out about Adam's interest in religion but he actually ended up being an incredibly good source of comfort whenever Hyde would spiral due to his religious trauma

Adam likes to sing little songs to Hyde when they're alone <3

Usually when they fight it's a result of Hyde getting too riled up or overwhelmed and he storms off somewhere, only to come back later once he's calmed down and plonk down like this so they can actually talk about it (doodle by @internetwerewolf )

More specific to CC but Hyde buys all of Adam's clothes for him and pays for pretty much anything he needs, partly just to treat him right and partly just because he doesn't want him leaving to go work all the time

And some for Jekyll-sided Creationshipping <3

Jekyll likes to trace his fingers along Adam's stitching, usually he does it absentmindedly while theyre just cuddling/talking but sometimes he gets completely lost in thought studying them. He finds them beautiful and they're one of Adam's biggest insecurities but he's allowed to touch them <3

Adam teases Jekyll way more than he does Hyde, he likes how overblown his reactions get to it

Jekyll really likes the deep pressure stim Adam holding him gives when he's having a meltdown. they are so autism4autism

^ also Hyde does this.

[dreamlandreader]

Ghost of You - Chapter One

Summery: Feyre and Rhysand wake up in the modern world, thousands of miles apart with no recollection of how they got here, who they are or the life they’ve left behind.

Word Count: 1750

Chapter Warnings: Memory loss, hospital setting, discussions of injury, angst

I’m so incredibly excited to share this fic with you all! I’m still very new to the whole writing thing so it certainly isn’t perfect but I really hope you all like it. Let me know what you think. ❤️

Note: Whilst this fic deals with the idea of jumping between worlds, this is considered separate from the multiverse CC/ToG crossover within SJM canon, and will deal purely with ACOTAR. This fic will be canon compliant with everything except that Feyre has not yet become pregnant with Nyx.

The girl felt nothing. Until she woke.

Incessant beeping broke through the fog that kept the young woman tethered under a blanket of sleep. Slowly stirring awake, bright lights filled her vision as she attempted to sit up but was gently pushed back down onto what felt to be an incredibly uncomfortable bed by mysterious hands.

“You’re awake!” A female voice stated somewhere to the girls left. Looking towards the sound she found the owner of the voice, a middle-aged woman with warm brown eyes and a comforting smile.

“What’s going on?” the girl rasped with a dry mouth, head throbbing and utter confusion clouding her mind. “Where am I?”

The older woman, who wore a long white coat and smart slacks, sat down in the faux leather chair by the side of the girls bed, and with her attention focused on the flustered patient before her, she began to explain.

“My name is Doctor Greene, and that over there is Detective Bailey.”

The girl noticed for the first time that someone else was in the room. A woman around the same age as Doctor Greene threw a sympathetic look in the girls direction before looking back down to her notepad.

“You are in the hospital,” Doctor Greene continued. “Someone found you passed out in the street this morning and called for an ambulance. You’ve been unconscious ever since. You have what appears to be a knife wound to your right shoulder, but we were able to patch you up without too much trouble.”

“It appears you were attacked,” Bailey informed the girl gently. “Now you’re awake I will need to take a statement from you. I know you’ve only just come to, but it’s important we get this information as soon as possible. Do you have any recollection of what happened?”

“No, I … I don’t,” the girl replied, overwhelmed as she tried to take in the weight of what she had just been told. Attacked? She didn’t remember being attacked. Come to think of it, she didn’t think she remembered anything at all.

Both Doctor Greene and Detective Bailey nodded patiently, as though they were used to a level of confusion amongst patients who’d experienced trauma, particularly when they first awoke. “Okay, well, it is possible you are experiencing some slight memory loss from the incident. The details will potentially come back to you once you’ve had a few hours to readjust,” Doctor Greene suggested, watching the girl puzzle over it in her mind.

“You were found without any belongings, so it would be safe to assume it was a robbery. However, it has meant that we have had no identification for you, so we have been unable to inform any of your emergency contacts of your whereabouts. If you let me know your name, I can find your medical records, and we can work from there,” Bailey stated matter of factly, looking towards the girl hopefully.

“No … you don’t understand! I don’t remember anything. I - I can’t even remember my own name!” The girl answered, panic starting to bubble in her chest as she frantically searched her memory for any clue of who she might be, or how she got to be here.

“Okay, take a breath, we’ll figure this out okay? You have no memories at all, nothing which could help us?” Bailey probed once more, hoping for something, anything, to work from.

“No,” the girl answered firmly. “Nothing.”

Doctor Greene reached for the girl’s left hand squeezing it gently, before glancing down and examining it thoughtfully. Looking back up at her patient with furrowed brows she mused “Well the thief might have taken some of your belongings but they did leave you with one clue,”

The anxious young woman and the detective both followed the Doctors gaze down to her left hand, which sat ideally against the stiff white bedsheets. Her skin was covered with a delicate black swirling lines, but despite her curiosity in the intricate design, it was the glimmering jewel on her ring finger which had really grabbed the rooms attention.

“That’s a hell of an engagement ring if I’ve ever seen one,” Doctor Greene stated. “Which means somewhere out there someone must be looking for you.”

The man thrashed fitfully. Until he woke.

It was dark in his dreams, and so cold. He couldn’t see through the inky black, but his other senses were heightened to the extreme. There was a sharp pain, and the metallic scent of blood. A soft hand snatched from his own. A scream.

“Rhys!” A woman shouted. A name. His name. He was sure of it. “Rhysand!” His chest. It felt like someone was cracking open his rib cage and crushing his heart with their bare hands. He couldn’t stand it. The all consuming fear. The rage. It was too much. And then he awoke.

Rhysand bolted upright, dripping in sweat, heart pounding. It had been like this for days. Ever since he regained consciousness in that damn alleyway.

Three days ago, Rhysand woke to the sight of a portly man staring down at him. The man, Doug Caldwell, was taking out the rubbish from his cafe when he stumbled across a young man in a torn suit, bleeding and unconscious. Luckily for Rhysand, Doug was an incredibly kind man. After helping him up, Doug brought Rhysand inside to wait for the police. Being a retired nurse, Doug’s wife Jenny patched up his wounds, while Doug made everyone a cup of tea.

The police tried to take a statement from Rhysand, but he remembered very little. He could only tell them three things for sure. One, was the name he was so certain was his. Rhysand, that was what the woman had cried. He had no idea what his surname was, if he had any family or friends or where he was even from, but a first name was a start. The second thing was that whilst he knew he was attacked, his vision had been compromised, so his assailant was a still a complete mystery to him. The last piece of information he had was that there was a woman there with him. The fear in her voice suggested that she was also a victim of this hidden attacker, and given the devastating ache in his chest at the memory of her voice crying out his name, she was someone important to him.

With very little to go on, the officers were concerned about their ability to track down the assailant, but with a violent person on the loose and another potential victim, they were hopeful that Rhysand would remember something more substantial, and left their details should anything come to mind.

Doug and Jenny, continuing their generosity, offered Rhysand the spare room in the apartment above the cafe, and with nowhere else to go he accepted their offer. And that is where he had been for the past three days. Despite the Caldwell’s goodwill Rhysand could not settle. The gnawing feeling that he should be somewhere else took over his entire body, and the cries of the woman in his memory rang endlessly in his ears.

His days were spent grasping at any threads to restore his memory, and his nights were consumed with the same nightmare on repeat. Rhysand tried not to fight it, the fear, hoping it would jumpstart a flurry of memories to come back to him, but so far his efforts had resulted in nothing. He could not give up though. Not knowing there was someone out there who might be in the same position as him. Not feeling the agony of the woman’s cries. It was that thought which convinced Rhysand that somehow, he had to find her. No matter what it took.

The figure slid silently through the crowd to meet his master. He was slight and moved with the skill of someone used to making themselves invisible as he pushed through the heavy oak doors of the seedy tavern. Grimacing at the stickiness of the floor, the man heads directly for the furthest corner of the room. Shrouded in the shadows, his master lurked, his fingers tapping against the table with impatience.

“You are late,” he stated plainly through gritted teeth. This was not a man you wished to displease. His deep brown eyes would have seemed warm as part of a kinder face, but the sharp cut of his jaw and the scowl that permanently resided there shaped him into a cold and callous figure.

“Apologies my lord, I was caught up in the crowds.”

“So. Is it done?” he asked, pulling out a bag of coins and spilling one of the gold pieces into his hand.

“Yes, my lord,” the man replied, itching to reach out and snatch his earnings.

“Good. There were no problems?”

“They fought it as expected, and I must say the girl was a particularly vicious little thing but without doubt the spell took hold of them both.”

“And it is irreversible?” the master enquired whilst lazily flipping the coin in his hand, the hiss of the metal piercing the tension of the two men.

“Almost entirely.” the man replied quietly, not quite meeting his masters eyes.

“Almost?” He snarled, stilling the coin and clenching it within his grip.

“It is practically impossible for the spell to be reversed. Only three people have ever reversed the spell. One died centuries ago, another we have already taken care of. My best men are out scouring the continent for the last. We will find them, and then that won't be a concern. Besides, we don’t need to concern ourselves with that anyway. They’ve been dumped somewhere they’ll never find their way back from, especially without their little friends.”

“I’m beginning to think it would have been much easier to just kill them,” The master glowered.

“Easier my lord, but not conjusive to your goals. It would have … complicated matters.”

“Yes yes we’ve been over this,” He said throwing the gold coin back into the bag and sliding it across the table.

“So, when do we make our move.”

“Soon. We need to give it time. Stir the pot and let it simmer until it boils over. And then we strike.”

Read chapter two here ❤️

[evoxyr]

Hey, sorry if this is obvious but I really don't know it. To download your presets all I have to do is put them in my mods folder?

oh no worries at all, not a bother!! and yep! then they’ll show up with the rest of the EA presets when you click on the sim’s lips or nose, for example

[soft-boi-eli]

OMG CAN I REQUEST CC!PHILZA INTRODUCING HIS ADOPTED EMO CHILD TO THE REST OF THE SBI/DSMP

Gender neutral pls they/them

Of course! I've been having a bit of shortages on ideas. So this is so fucking welcomed.

Anyways

Father CC!Philza x Emo! Reader

Pronouns:they/them

Summary:your old parents gave you up as a teen, overflowing you with emotions, causing depression, mood swings, and quite a bit of anxiety. When you got adopted by a man and a lady,both seemingly very kind and understanding. You felt happy. They didnt expect the sleepy bois to come and visit so soon.

Tw:anxiety attacks, mention of depression, loving clothes (not a tw but damn I sometimes miss my old fashion sense.), mention of trauma, swearing!

A huge new family

They dont blame their biological family. They knew that they were being overwhelming. Slowly shifting into a state of mind where fluffy black and colored hair was their favorite. Their outfits became more extravagant and their makeup took a turn for the darker. But they didnt have to put them up for adoption.

About a year in and out of foster families, a few months in an orphanage, then one more foster family. It was official. They were the new child of philza.

Your life got better. Both of them accepted your choice of clothes and makeup, even supported it!

They helped with everything in the first few weeks. Giving you space, letting you know that they were there. But you nor phil knew that three boys were heading down to visit.

So when you answered the door to see three faces demanding philza minecraft and one just looking awkward. They were also changing about him coming and join them you felt panic flood through you. Slamming the door on their face you held near your chest.

Your uneven breathing was heard by your father and he was quick to scoop you away from the door and have kristin answer the door.

He was sitting next to you hand lightly rubbing your shoulder and he guided you through the panic attack. "That's it. In through the nose. Hold it for a few second. Breathe out." His voice was calm.

It took less time to calm you down then you've ever had. "There ya go mate. Just keep breathing." He kept coaching you through you panic attack.

Kristen let the four in with their promise of keeping calm. Your shaking form brought major concern to the two older ones and confusion to the two younger ones. "(Y/n) I want to introduce you to the four behind us. Technoblade, wilbur, tommy, and tubbo. They are really good friends of mine." Nodding lightly you sat there, not wanting to turn because if you did the panic would strike harder. Remembering what happened before you parents left you.

A huge group of people basically shunned your for your choices and didnt want to take you in because 'trash like you' wasnt accepted in the family. But these two were different. Supporting you with your choices. How different were their friends? "Hey I think you shirt is cool! Who's on it?" A slightly hyper voice broke through the silence. " black veil brides." It was quite but a start. "Cool! So their a band right? What kind of songs?" The brown haired teen was trying to communicate with you. "Uhm. Rock." It had started small but you opened up to the teens. They were about you age and they didnt bash what you decided to like. The two older ones hung out with phil and Kristen. You three hung out in your room which was kind of softer then your appearance. It was to reflect a bit deeper into you. Bookshelves, a desk, reading corner, and a bed. Not fully knowing what to put in there.

But you, tommy, and tubbo were almost the best of friends when they had to leave. Techno and Wilbur it took a bit. After the two teens left you had came out of your room, no makeup, hair had all products removed, and your clothes changed from Jean's and a black veiled brides shirt to a black tee shirt, grey sweat pants, with a book in hand.

Before sleeping you just chilled in the living room, reading while basking in the presence of your adoptive parents. You did not expect wilbur and techno to still be there.

Plopping down on the couch next to phil you opened your book and tried to zone out, to get engulfed into the book. Nope. Two sets of eyes just watching you.

"So you like poems?" The book you were reading was a massive collection of poems. Looking up to the two on the couch you nodded lightly.

Looking back down you felt nervous. "Small talk is awkward." Looking up to the brown haired guy with an American accent you nodded. "Same." Once more you looked down at your book. You already had issues focusing but you tried to work though it. "What kind of poems are you favorite?" You sat there for a second. Trying to think of something that catches your attention.

"Mainly ones about trauma. It reminds me I'm not the only one in the word that went through something I have. It just makes it more interesting when I can relate." It was true. Sometimes the poems you liked ring a little to close to home.

"Good choice. It does really intrigue the audience when they can relate." Nodding you closed your book. "Especially when you relate. It's a must for me. Other wise I get turned away from it and just cant focus. But if I like it then I am just dead set on that poem."

You and techno bonded over poems and wilbur brought up some songs. "So what is you song preference?" "Hollywood undead, black veil brides, other then that its random. If I like the song it's in my playlist." With no other preferences with music other then it had to sound good to you there was honestly no judgement for other people's taste in music. There were little treasures from almost all genres.

For a while you talked about poems and songs. It honestly helped you feel safer with them. They didnt care about what you found intriguing. Or why. You even went on a rant and there was no care. They just listened.

But sadly they had to leave. Bit they promised that they would visit more. They were like the brothers you never had.

"So I see that you were able to talk to all of them." Nodding to your father figure you smiled "they were nice. Honestly. I cant wait to see them again."

He found joy in you wanting to hang out with his friends/technically children too.

Now meet the rest of the dream smp. It was very fast. Meeting almost all of them at the same time.

Phil was streaming and no one except for the sleepy bois knew about you. So you walked into his stream, book in hand and sat on the couch behind his set up. You liked having another person on the room. You just hated being alone. It gave you really bad thoughts. "Who's that behind you phil?" A random donation read out. Phil looking behind himself saw you in the corner reading and you normally did. "Ah that's my child. They like to have company. So sometimes they come in here to read." "Wait you have a child?! Since when?" The voice made you jump. Your book fell out of your hands and you looked at your father's screen. A green man with a weird white blob for a skin on minecraft. "Yeah. I took a break to pick them up from the orphanage." All hell broke loose. You ran while phil answered questions. You were not dealing with that. No way. Nuh uh. Nada. Zip. Zilch. Not today satan. It took phil bribing you with a trip to hot topic to get you to come back in. I mean hey you get to score a few shirts and hats. Might as well.

Meeting the server wasbt too bad. But the questions were weird. You didnt answer the ones you were uncomfortable about and they didnt care. Your boundries were up. And when tommy, tubbo, willbur, and techno revealed they knew of you they were yelled at. It was funny. Watching people say they should of said something. But it resulted in alot of compliments and Phil's chat loving you.

You were now the older sibling of the chat. Why? Cause chat said so.

When you come in from now on the chat is chanting for you. Just "(y/n)!" Over and over.

Your life? Crazy. But it became a bit better after you were living with your new parents. It was heaven.

I'm sorry if its awkward I'm not good at introductions. And I am tis but a sleep deprived human. I need sleep and so do you have a nice day and once more I'm sorry if this isnt up to what you wanted.

[c-e-d-dreamer]

All I Want for Christmas

A very happy holidays to @live-the-fangirl-life​ from your Secret Santa! I hope I did justice to your prompt and your request for Gwynriel. Enjoy :) cc: @acotarsecretsanta​

Based on the prompt: ​Person A searches for the perfect ornament as a present for Person B

Gwyn sighs softly as she takes in the different options hanging from the small hooks in front of her. The different patterned red and green balls, some even with intricate designs made out of gold or silver glitter. There’s also the various shape and character options. The brightly colored presents and snowmen. The blank, wooden trees and dog bones waiting for someone to paint them. 

“This is… overwhelming,” Gwyn laments. 

Nesta looks up from where she was looking through the different colored tinsel. “The ornaments?” 

“Yes,” Gwyn confirms on another sigh. “Which one do you think I should get?”

“Just get one that seems like Az,” Nesta answers like it’s the easiest thing in the world. 

And Gwyn supposes that maybe it should be the easiest thing in the world, easier than this she’s sure. It had sounded simple enough when she and Azriel decided on this. Nothing could beat the excitement when they purchased their first house together this past summer, the first space that was truly all their own. A place they could paint and decorate and mould until it had a little piece of each of them all pressed together as one. No more worrying about who’s place to go back to or trying to remember at which she’d left her favorite sweater. No more worrying about the thin walls of the apartment they had rented together. It was finally one home, just the two of them. And since this year would be their first proper Christmas together in the house, the idea came about that they would each get an ornament for the other as a gift. It would be the perfect way to commemorate that first Christmas, and they could hang it on the tree each year after. 

But now, as Gwyn stares at the different ornaments in front of her, she doesn’t even know where to start. None of these generic looking ornaments ‘feel like Az’ as Nesta put it. Azriel is soft words whispered in her ear and small smiles meant just for her. He’s low chuckles and snarky, sarcastic comments. He’s gentle understanding and a warm presence at her back ready to catch her if she needs it or to give her the push she needs. He’s warm, hazel eyes that feel like home and strong arms that hold her close. He’s love in a way that leaves Gwyn feeling happy and light like she’s never felt before, and how the heck is she supposed to find an ornament that feels like that? 

Gwyn lets out a groan, burying her face in her hands. She can already feel the frustration weighing heavy on her bones, scraping against her in a taunting way, and the slight twinge behind her temples definitely promises a tension headache soon. 

“Picking an ornament for Azriel should not be this hard,” Gwyn grumbles before taking a deep breath and smoothing back her hair. 

“Look, just get him…” Nesta’s eyes scan the rows of ornaments before she reaches forward, grabbing one of the puppy in a Santa hat ornaments and holding it out toward Gwyn. “This one. Azriel likes dogs, right?” 

“Nesta, I love you, but you’re useless. Maybe I should have asked Cassian to come with me.” 

Nesta makes an offended noise in the back of her throat, reaching forward to put the puppy ornament back on the hook. “I love the man, but we both know he’d be even less help than I am.” 

Gwyn hums in agreement, and a comfortable silence falls between them as they continue to stare at the different ornament options. She’s considering caving and buying one of the cheesy “first Christmas” ornaments when she notices Nesta shifting further down the aisle in the corner of her eye. Nesta reaches inside one of the baskets there and produces one of the clear ornaments. 

“Why don’t you just make one?” Nesta suggests. 

Gwyn eyes the clear ornament perched between Nesta’s fingers, tilting her head as she imagines how she could paint it. It would definitely be personalized and wholly original that way. With a decided nod, Gwyn takes the ornament. 

“I just need some paints and brushes, and then we can finally hit the bookstore.” 

~ * * * ~

When Gwyn gets back home, Azriel isn’t there yet, so she takes everything she bought up to the room they’ve turned into a makeshift office and library. She makes sure to shut the door behind her before laying out all the paints and brushes. It takes a few mixes of the colors, but she’s able to create the perfect shade of cobalt blue to paint the whole outside of the ornament, careful strokes of the brush ensuring she covers every inch. She’s just setting that aside to dry when the soft click of the front door opening and closing sounds through the door. 

“Gwyn?” Azriel’s voice sounds. 

“I’m in the study,” Gwyn calls out in answer. “But don’t come in here!” 

A moment of silence passes. “Okay…” 

Gwyn listens closely at the door, waiting for footsteps or the turn of the doorknob, but when she’s sure that Azriel has listened to her directions, she returns her attention to the ornament. She checks to make sure the blue has dried before digging her phone out of her pocket. She pulls up one of the photos from their summer vacation to the beach and zooms in for reference before beginning to trace out the intricate swirls of Azriel’s tattoos in black paint across the ornament. She makes sure to go slow, careful not to mess up, and when she finishes the last line, she holds the ornament away from her face to admire with a pleased hum. 

Gwyn traces over the black lines with an extra layer of paint before setting the ornament aside to dry. She snaps a quick picture to send to Nesta before getting to work cleaning up the paints and brushes. She pokes her head out of the study door, and when she finds the coast clear, she pads down the hall to the closet where they’ve been storing their wrapping supplies. 

When Azriel’s ornament is neatly packed away in a gift bag, Gwyn ventures out of the study and further into their home. She finds Azriel in the kitchen, standing at the stove top and stirring what looks like pasta. She gives herself a second to take him in, so at home in their space and quietly singing along to the Christmas song currently playing on the radio. With a soft smile, Gwyn walks over to him and wraps her arms around his waist, pressing her face between his shoulder blades. A gentle hand wraps around her wrist, tugging until Azriel presses a kiss to the center of her palm. 

“All done with your secrecy?” he asks teasingly. 

“For today.” 

Gwyn can feel the chuckle Azriel releases rumble through his chest where they’re pressed together, and it has a smile pulling its way across her own face. Azriel shifts and Gwyn loosens her grip enough for him to turn to face her. His eyes instantly zero in on her cheek, and there’s an amusement swimming in that soft hazel color, a slight uptick to his lips. 

“You have paint on your face, my love,” Azriel tells her, bringing a hand up to Gwyn’s face and rubbing a thumb along her skin in emphasis. 

Gwyn’s eyebrows scrunch together, a hand instinctively going up to where Azriel’s is against her skin. She tries to rub the paint that must be there, but Azriel side steps around her toward the sink. He wets a cloth and runs it against Gwyn’s cheek, leaning down to follow the same path of the cloth with a kiss. Azriel tries to pull away after, but Gwyn just wraps her arms around Azriel’s neck, pulling him into a proper kiss. He sighs softly against her lips, sliding his arms around to encircle her waist and pull her closer. 

Another press of his lips against hers, and then Azriel is turning back to finish cooking. After dinner, they curl up on the sofa, Gwyn’s feet tucked up under Azriel’s thighs and a blanket draped around her legs. Azriel has one arm lazily wrapped around Gwyn’s raised knees, a book perched in his other hand. Despite the book clasped between Gwyn’s own hands, she can’t quite seem to focus. 

Her mind keeps shifting back to the ornament. She’s spent so long stressing over it, trying to ensure she gave Azriel the perfect ornament, that she doesn’t know if she can wait until Christmas day to give it to him. She wants to show it to him now, wants to know what his reaction will be. And now that the ornament is done and wrapped away? It’s like it’s taunting her from where she tucked it under the tree. It practically calls to her, curling an entrancing finger in encouragement. 

After the fifth time reading the same sentence, Gwyn can’t take it anymore. She gives in. She closes her book with a sigh, the sound causing Azriel to look over to her with quiet concern. 

“We should do our ornament exchange now,” Gwyn tells him. 

“What?” 

“There’s no point waiting for Christmas. Besides, this way we can hang them on the tree.” 

There’s no missing the sudden anxiety that takes over Azriel’s expression. The nervous press to his lips, the pinch around his eyes. It has Gwyn both confused and concerned, and she reaches up a hand to smooth the harsh lines that have taken up root on Azriel’s face with gentle fingers. 

“Did you not get an ornament yet?” Gwyn asks quietly. “It’s alright. We can wait.” 

“No, I have it,” Azriel assures her. 

Azriel lets his eyes fall closed, leaning into Gwyn’s touch against his cheek. A moment passes, and then he takes a deep breath and nods, but Gwyn isn’t sure if he’s nodding at her or himself. Before Gwyn can offer they wait again, hating to make Azriel feel uncomfortable, Azriel stands from the sofa. He vanishes into their bedroom and when he returns, he has a small box clutched between his hands. 

Gwyn takes that as her cue, hopping up from the sofa and grabbing the little gift bag from underneath the tree. They both return to their spots on the sofa, their respective wrapped gifts set on the coffee table in front of them. 

“I’ll go first,” Azriel says suddenly, reaching forward for the gift bag. 

With gentle hands, Azriel removes the tissue paper from the bag and unwraps the ornament inside. His eyes are soft as he takes the ornament in, a finger running along the black painted swirls. When his eyes raise to meet Gwyn’s, they’re full of such love and adoration that Gwyn’s heart sings in response, warmth spreading so deep between her ribs until it’s all she feels. 

“Do you like it?” Gwyn whispers. 

“I love it,” Azriel tells her, his tone earnest. “Did you paint it yourself?” 

Gwyn nods, and for a moment, she doesn’t know what to do with the pride in those hazel eyes that peer back at her. She’s sure it has a blush scattering across her cheeks, but her smile is wide. Azriel pulls her close, pressing a sweet kiss to her lips in thanks. Gwyn is half tempted to deepen the kiss, but then she remembers the little wrapped box on the coffee table, and she pulls away to turn toward it. 

“My turn,” Gwyn says excitedly, pulling the box into her lap and carefully undoing the bow. 

Gwyn removes the lid of the gift box to find her ornament nestled in tissue paper there. It’s teal with gold glitter stars patterned all around. Gwyn gasps softly as she carefully removes the ornament, holding it in her hand and closer examining the little stars. 

“It’s beautiful,” Gwyn breathes before looking up at Azriel with a mischievous smirk. “I take it you didn’t make this yourself?” 

Azriel chuckles lowly, pushing a hand through his hair. “Etsy.” 

“Well, I love it. I can’t wait to put it on the tree.” 

Gwyn hops up to do just that, but she only makes it a few steps before there’s a clatter from her hands. She frowns down at the ornament in confusion. She raises it between her fingers and gives it a gentle shake, that same clattering sound ringing out. 

“Az, I think there’s something in here.” 

Carefully, Gwyn removes the gold metal piece at the top of the ornament and tips the ornament over into her hand. There’s more clattering and then something falls into her palm. When she looks closely, it’s a ring that she finds nestled there in her palm. Her breath hitches in her lungs as she picks the ring up between her fingers, taking in the diamonds and sapphires glistening in their low living room light. Gwyn turns to Azriel in confusion, but any words die in her throat as she takes in Azriel perched on one knee in front of her. 

“I thought I’d have more time to figure out what I was going to say, and all Cassian suggested was saying ‘all I want for Christmas is you’, but that’s stupid, so I’m not going to say that, but uh…” Azriel stutters out, taking Gwyn’s hands in his. “Gwyn. You make me so happy. Happier than I ever thought I could be. Definitely happier than I thought I ever would be. You shine so bright, and I don’t know what I’d ever do without your light in my life. And I’m hoping that I’ll never have to find out. I love you so much, my love. I want to spend every day with you, for the rest of my life. So. Gwyneth Berdara. Will you marry me?” 

Gwyn isn’t sure at what point she started crying, but she presses a hand to her trembling lips. She tries to calm her thundering heart down enough that she can form actual words, but all she seems able to do is stare down at this man before her. This beautiful man who captured her heart that very first time they met, and who’s held it close with such gentle and protective hands ever since. Who looks at her like she hung the stars and makes her believe it with his words and actions. He’s always seen all of her, and she sees all of him, and now they’ll have forever together. 

“Gwyn?” Azriel asks, his voice tentative. 

“Gods, yes!” Gwyn gets out around a wet laugh. 

Azriel smiles, taking the ring out of Gwyn’s hand and sliding it onto her finger. He leans in, pressing a kiss to the knuckle, right above where the ring now sits. Gwyn rushes him for a proper kiss, causing them both to go toppling to the ground, but she doesn’t care. Nor does she care that her tears are still smeared across her face. All that matters is the warmth of Azriel’s hands as they hold her steady at her waist. The feel of their lips as they slide together. The way their hearts beat in tandem where their chests are pressed together. This beautiful man and the melodies and harmonies their love creates as it swirls between them. All that matters is the promise now a cool weight on her left hand. 

“I love you,” Azriel breathes against her lips. 

“I love you. And don’t worry. All I want for Christmas is you too.”

[scitties]

hypothetically, if someone wanted to get into ds/mp (censored for tumblr tags), where should they start? it seems enormous

mannnnnnn. man.

I don't know what direction to point you in, because dsmp these days is. probably what i'd call the hardest media to get into today. its content is scattered around all over, and although i could point you in a direction to start with, going further than that... is hard.

but, i can try anyway, and the "guide" i'd recommend following is relaxxattack's carrd.

lucky for you, the majority of the first "season" is edited by the creators themselves, but in season 2 and after that, you'll find that you need to start watching vods, and man, that can take ages. it all depends on you of course, and you definitely don't need to watch every single vod (unless you're planning on getting into lore discourse which. do not recommend. i'm serious. it's not worth the time and energy. i've been in it myself and it just sucks the energy out of you.)

there's also several different CC's to choose from, but the easiest to get into imo are Tommy, Wilbur and Techno. not even Dream is that easy to get into since he's only ever streamed, and not even that often. you need to watch others' streams to find appearances of him. Techno, even, you'll have to watch his vods to understand anything. he's only edited like. three or four videos. BUT. at least he has all of his vods archived LOL

it might seem overwhelming, but if you've got a lot of time on your hands, well. here you go lol - there's plenty for you to watch :P if you want proper context to the things that are going on right now and all that, please watch the first two seasons. they're essential to understanding a lot of the nuance that's going on, and plus, they're probably what i'd call the best content that's come out of dsmp as a whole. it's where they had the most fun and the most passion for the server.

so! have fun anon! don't let people on tumblr discourage you from liking certain characters or anything like that. please just consume the content at your own pace, and in general... idk. i personally enjoyed dsmp a lot more when i was unaffected by fandom perception and opinions, when all i did was look at fanart. although, that's just my experience of course - i can't know how you feel. just be careful out there. it's a big fandom, and big fandoms can become... chaotic.

[crown-anon]

aah i thought of a req!!!!! could i maybe request one shots or hcs (separate) w dream, sapnap, n wilbur with a s/o (preferred he/him!!) who draws a whole lot,, n one day they catch him drawing him?? tysm :]

@ghcstbnr asked

gn i just realized i made a typo i meant cc catching reader drawing them- but ty again :)

of course! it's kind of long, sorry about that

I took a little creative liberty with the notion of "catching you drawing." also Sapnap's looks kind of long but it's also dialogue heavy. if you want me to redo it, I will. hope you like it 💗

& a note to everyone else, I don't write for Wilbur yet! I only write for the dream team at this time. sorry about that! this will probably change in the future, though, so look out 👀

CW: swearing

format: one-shot

people: dreamwastaken, Sapnap

pronouns: dreamwastaken's piece is ambiguous, Sapnap's piece uses he/him

edited 27 April 2021

—

dreamwastaken

since he doesn't use his camera, you find yourself with your boyfriend in the studio more often than not. when he's gaming casually, you play together, or one of you will cheer the other one on. when he's streaming, sometimes you interact with the viewers, or read donations for him; sometimes you just sit next to him, soaking up his energy and warmth. when he's working long days and long nights to edit videos, you're content with just relaxing together in the same space. at times you have to drag him out to the kitchen to eat, or help him to bed if he passes out, but…he's really cute when he's focused. (and you're starting to think he does it on purpose just so you can dote on him.)

today is a little different. he's recording for a manhunt that's meant to drop in a couple days. you're quiet, trying to avoid disrupting them. you're perched up on the loveseat, staring fondly at him across the room. he's so animated, the way his eyes shine when he talks to his friends, how he tears up when he laughs…

Patches mews at you from the arm of the couch, as if to say, disapprovingly, I cannot believe how sickeningly sweet your inner monologue is.

and you try to understand where she's coming from, you really do, but the sun's starting to set, and the gentle rays slotting through the blinds are shifting from white to gold.

he looks so divine, you decide. it's unfair. how could I not love him? he's seriously pretty. and before you can stop yourself, you're sketching him out on your tablet. you glance up at him fast to get the details right, and look away just as quickly. he never meets your eyes. soon your whole page is covered in little Clays, capturing the way he feels, the way he acts, the way you feel about him. Patches jumps off the chair, with all the moving. and before you know it, you've drawn up a whole page of concept art of your unfairly beautiful boyfriend. Patches was right about me, you muse to yourself.

fuck. Patches. the same Patches who's been meowing at you for the better part of an hour, now sitting patiently at the door? there's no way Clay didn't pick up on all that noise, you fret. but he's still playing, looking intense as ever. relief washes over you, replacing the guilt.

come here, girl, you think to yourself, knowing Patches wouldn't have even understood you if you spoke. sorry to keep you waiting. and you rise, slipping quietly out the door with his cat in your train.

—

you're coming back to the studio. Patches, fed and sated, is napping in another room. opening the door, you have to stop yourself, you freeze. your boyfriend's kneeling on the ground, sitting on his heels, right next to the door—you'd have hit him if it opened any further.

"baby, what are you…" the words die on your tongue.

my book. my sketchbook. my sketchbook full of drawings of him. shit, he's gonna think I'm such a simp! the embarrassment, the shame, the fear, it's overwhelming you.

you hear your voice break. "…what happened to recording…?"

"finished half an hour ago," he says simply.

and that was that. for the first time in ages, the silence hanging between you was thick and heavy with tension. you wait. and wait. and wait. you wait for the criticism, the hate, the argument that never comes.

suddenly, he seems content with what he's seen, when he looks up at you adoringly, and takes one of your hands, giving it a soft squeeze. "is that…me?"

you've lost your voice, all you can do is nod.

"you…you think I'm beautiful?" he glows.

ah, I suppose I did write that, somewhere in there. you look away. all the things I've said…

he brings your hand up to his lips and leaves kisses on your knuckles.

you sound small. "do I not tell you that enough?" you pause. "that you're beautiful? that I love you?"

and just like that, his nervousness dissolves into euphoria. you both start laughing at the same time.

"oh my god—" he wheezes. "—you're so sappy."

"only for you," you blurt out, and start laughing harder. but he quiets, he hesitates.

"only for me," he repeats.

you sink down onto the floor next to him. he's staring so fondly at you, you can't help but smile back.

"only for you," you affirm.

he rests his hands on your knees, pulling himself closer to you. he's so close to you, you can feel his blush. you let your eyes close, softly.

but the kiss never comes. instead, you're met with a "then what about all those drawings of Patches?"

laying on the floor, tangled up in each other, in hysterics, you distantly think I hope he remembered to leave the call from recording earlier.

—

over dinner, you meet his gaze, and he gives you that look. that stupid, handsome look; the one with the smile and the danger behind his eyes. he makes a point of pausing mid-bite, but it takes you a minute to notice that he's stopped eating.

"what's up, honey?" you ask, sounding a little more concerned than you should have been.

he shrugs dramatically. "oh, nothing…just figured you'd appreciate a muse." there it was. the teasing. you knew it would happen eventually. but the tone, it's kind, it's tempting; gentle, unlike a serious jab.

so all you do is roll your eyes, but you can't help the way your mouth quirks into a smile. "you're so dumb," you murmur with affection, and shake your head at nothing in particular.

Patches curls her tail around your ankle as she passes you by.

—

on the couch hours later for movie night, you're the last one up. Patches is curled up in Clay's lap, purring. Clay, in turn, sleeps soundly in your lap. (you think if he could purr, he would, but he settles for humming softly when you play with his hair.) you might think it's funny looking back on it later, but it feels so tender and vulnerable now. you like calm evenings like this one. Studio Ghibli plays quietly on the flatscreen; you don't know which one, you're not really paying attention anymore.

you're busy tracing the contours of Clay's skin, feeling more than seeing his shape in the dark room. mapping him out in your mind, learning his figure like you're seeing him for the first time again. you think you understand him a little bit better, every day you spend together. and with confidence, you make your first stroke, illuminated by the moon.

—

Sapnap

you only barely stop yourself from drawing a big "X" across your paper. exhale, and start erasing furiously. don't rip the paper—well, we didn't need that sheet anyway. ball it up and throw it at the dark, cobwebbed corner of the room. along with the rest of your mistakes.

you're trying. you're really trying. but those lips. his fucking lips. fuck.

your boyfriend smiles at the camera as he gets a donation with a sweet message on it. it should be so easy. he's right there. right here.

you check the time. it's been an hour. you've been trying, and miserably failing, to get his lips right for an entire hour. today, at least. you scoff at yourself, your misery, and pinch the bridge of your nose. it isn't fair.

his camera's on, and he's live, so you know you can't be in there with him. nobody knows you're together, and you don't want know what kind of backlash to expect if people found out. so you've been avoiding his streams…the whole room where he streams, really.

you've kept yourself busy by drawing. and you've cycled through many subjects in your life, and eventually, been able to draw whatever you put your mind to with enough time and effort. the problem is, your sights have been set on Sapnap, even for months before you got together. okay, maybe that isn't the problem. the actual problem is that you fucking suck at drawing him.

you get going, start it out, do an okay job, but midway through screw it all up somehow. to make things worse, your reference is his 2D image. he doesn't…know that you draw him. you're terrified to say. so you can't use the real life Sapnap as a reference, like you would prefer.

ugh, and this one's ruined too. you rip it up and throw it at your growing pile of paper balls, but being tiny confetti-sized pieces of paper, they don't make it very far. great, something else to clean up later, you huff at your own thoughts. it isn't fair.

—

"[name]?" he calls for you. you're one step ahead, already opening the door. you can't remember when you got here and decided to brood outside his room.

"hey, do you think you can—" he tears his eyes from his camera, his waiting audience, to look up at you expectantly. when he sees you he stops immediately, looking concerned, standing to meet you.

"what is it?" your voice is flat.

out of view of the camera, he mouths, are you okay? you only shrug and avert your eyes.

he falters, contemplates, sits back down at his desk and starts to talk to his viewers. "hey guys, I'm sorry for the short notice, but I gotta cut this stream short. my…" he glances at you for approval, only to see you motioning with your hands as if to say, no, don't.

(you yourself don't really know what for. no, don't end the stream for me? no, don't out us like this?)

he looks back. "…my friend…something came up with my friend. I have to take care of it. it's really important." you can tell he has trouble finding the right words. you can tell it throws him off, he's acting out of character for his internet personality. do you blame him? isn't this your fault? "sorry again. bye guys!"

the second he made the last click, he gets up and pulls you into a hug. it's unexpected, it knocks the wind out of you. you're certain he feels the tension.

"babe…what's wrong?" it's muffled by your neck and the sweater you're wearing. you just hold him, saying nothing.

he pulls away and holds you by the shoulders. "look at me. what's wrong?"

you feel all the more embarrassed. it's so silly to be upset about. "I…I…well, it's a lot."

he shakes his head, to say I'm not going anywhere, but his expression softens, his grip loosens. "do you want to talk about it?"

you sigh. "it started as 'I can't draw for shit', then it became 'why am I afraid of asking you for help?', and finally, worst of all, 'why the fuck can't we be seen together?' it isn't fair. it's never been fair. I'm sorry."

he thinks about it for a second. "okay, what makes you feel like we can't be seen together?"

"are you joking?" you snap. "we're two fucking boyfriends. in this society." he didn't look hurt by the outburst, but the guilt crept in anyway. "…I'm sorry."

he shakes his head, "do you really think I'd let that happen? I wouldn't ever let anyone hurt you, darling. remember that."

"I know, I know…" you don't know what to say. "it's easy to forget, I guess."

"what are you afraid to ask me for help about?"

"I…" shit, you guess you have to tell him. close your eyes, breathe, "I've been drawing you. trying to draw you. but I can't, it never turns out right."

you peek, and he's red in the face, stuttering. "me? you draw me? of all the hot people out there?"

you furrow your eyebrows at him. "don't give me that shit. you know you're cute."

he shakes his head incredulously. "are we talking about the same person here?"

"dude, your smile is literally the most radiant fucking force of nature I have ever seen."

"you're hot too! why are you coming after me?"

"I'm not 'coming after you', you're being defensive about your looks, when you shouldn't be! you're gorgeous, baby."

you're both giggling like girls at a sleepover, the anger and frustration long forgotten. now it's a war of who can be more grossly in-love with the other.

"what part of me," he manages between laughs. "are you having trouble drawing?"

"oh god," you groan, remembering yourself and your dilemma. "your lips."

"my fucking lips? you would think that—"

"no," you warn. "shut up. don't say it. don't you dare say it."

he leans in close, his hands have moved up to cup your face. you shiver.

"don't worry," he grins. "I won't."

the kiss is long and sweet, nothing like the ones you've shared in the past. he takes his time, you savor each other. you feel time stop ticking, you feel your heart stop beating, you feel the way he tilts his head. you grab him by the collar of his shirt and pull him in. and when you part, you're breathing heavy, in tandem.

"thanks," you manage. "but I needed to see your lips, not kiss you into next saturday."

"nah," he laughs. "I think you needed that too."

you choose your words thoughtfully. "do you need me, too?"

he hums, and—

ding!

dreamwastaken donated $69!

:)

you could die. you could really, seriously die.

the response is instant. you don't even see Sapnap move from you to the PC, flushed down to his neck, apologizing, apologizing, and apologizing again. "change of plans, guys, we're doing an art stream!"

the chat is filled with "huh?"s and "what?"s.

"huh? what?" you didn't have the time to process what just happened.

karljacobs: I thought we were doing a make-out-with-our-secret-boyfriends stream :(

he smiled warmly at you. "yeah. my lovely boyfriend is going to draw me! he's been wanting to for a really long time, and his art is really good. let's go get your stuff."

you're in so much shock that he makes it past you and out of the room, while you stand there waiting. after a pause much longer than you intended, you hurry after him.

—

down the hall, in your room, he's got your sketchbook tucked under his arm, closed. you're sure you left it open when you came out.

you only barely get the words out. "um, did you…go through it? please don't laugh."

your heart sinks when he laughs heartily, but he grabs your hand, resting it on your book, about to hand it off. but he holds you there for a second. "of course not. I respect your privacy." he ponders for a moment. "I respect you."

you can feel the sigh of relief when you let it out. "I…love you."

your holding your book now, as he moves to collect the boxes containing your pens and pencils and colors. he gets them all together, but before he picks them up to head back, he turns around to face you. "is this too much?"

you absently reach for a hand, tracing over the lines on his palms. and you think about it. am I okay? is this too much?

"I don't think so. not with you. I'm okay."

he moves to open the door and grab the rest of your things. "well then, let's not keep them waiting!"

—

edited 27 April 2021

[cupidlakes]

I'm getting kinda worried that George might be feeling like every stream he does needs to be better than the last stream (for the main channel ofc) and the reason why he hasn't been streaming if because he has no idea what to stream? I mean, it's been so long since we've gotten a solo stream from him.

It's like how people comment on Karl always needing someone else on his stream for him to be able to stream and I just wonder if George is starting to go towards that path as well. I really hope that George knows that we would watch him play anything at this point really and he's just as entertaining by himself as he is with others. This is me desperate for a solo stream tbh, I like Dream Team, Sex Havers n Feral Boys dynamics but I feel like when he's on his own, he becomes a bit more open about himself?

Also, yeah I agree with you with the whole editing stuff as well but I also kinda understand George with the whole executive dysfunction. Streaming and editing are both kinda his jobs, it's hard to get another job going when you're stuck with this job that is very overwhelming for you to do that causes you to procrastinate on it and also hinders you from doing anything else as well because you need to finish that one first. Reminds me of when George said how his life qualify does down when he's in his editing arc, gosh so relatable.

I just hope he doesn't push himself too hard. I just want him to feel comfortable streaming whatever and whenever he wants, not everything has to be planned. Yeah, this is me in my missing George arc.

this ask is quite long (although i appreciate it) so my answer is it going to be under the cut!!

i mean yeah basically this, i don’t want to sound repetitive because i think i’ve said this a lot but i do also feel like george is falling into the trap of feeling like he has to put out big! and planned! streams on the gnf twitch channel when before it used to be for whatever (looks like it’s reflecting in his main channel on yt too, like how “go big or go home” the challenges have been feeling recently)

like i guess that’s what his alt is for and i understand the need to have a distinction between “high-effort” content and more lowkey stuff but even that seems like it’s become another burden for george when it comes to: finding stuff to do/play and feeling like he “has to” keep up on donations and gifted subs etc etc. it just makes me think about how at the end of the day some of the most beloved streams among the fandom have been the more lowkey ones or the ones which devolved into chaos naturally and although his planned streams are well-received view-wise and stuff (and his effort is always appreciated, words can’t explain how much i love the cooking stream for example) it isn’t worth seeing our cc missing in action for so long <\3 ppl have pointed out streamers like tubbo, ranboo and tommy have struck a good balance when it comes to delivering a steady stream of both high + “low” effort content both equally enjoyed by their viewers

when people say they’d watch george do anything they /mean it/ not in the “oh he can be lazy and put out any old rubbish and we’d eat it up” but in the fact that seeing him enjoy himself alone or with friends is more than enough, we’re drawn to his personality and whatever he puts out is going to be appealing most of the time! some people even resonate more with chilled out content that’s not so “high-effort” we are here for george not the games he plays or his concepted ideas, it’s him doing whatever, his reactions, his persona, him

i feel like george sometimes “falling” on needing other presences in his streams has more to do with the fact that he’s clearly the most comfortable/energetic among friends and bouncing off them is easier, he’s expressed before that he can’t talk for very long himself unprompted so having other people there must be comfortable but yes, solo streams are very treasured in that he seems more willing to open up when he’s alone and tell rambled stories and it’s just… nice i wish he’d see the appeal in occasional solo streams like when he used to speedrun! because he is actually good at carrying them and creating a good vibe, there’s a reason why so many ppl seem to be asking for one right now

and the editing stuff just makes me sad he should know that he doesn’t have to live like this i know he stubbornly wants to be the one to edit his videos (or dream because he trusts he’ll do them justice) but he should realise that there are ways he can better his quality of life in this aspect even looking into finding ppl willing to edit in a similar fashion and offering the resources to (hence my idea of accepting ppls work and looking through for contenders) or finding more effective ways to edit instead of dedicating all his time to one vid and clearly stressing out about it especially because technically he also works on his own terms? there’s nothing wrong with having set deadlines for yourself and feeling like an upload is due and i’m glad he’s not lazy in that aspect god bless or delivering content generally

but being purely unable to concentrate on anything else because you’re focussed on a single video for two weeks sounds awful

hey these are just my messy thoughts though at the end of the day i also take into account he could be busy with general life stuff i’m just making a commentary on him explaining why he disappears and why it’s so hard for him to edit in that time, hope he’s ok <3 and i hope the vid is a banger though i trust it will be, my cc is a perfectionist!

[clonecest-bin-account]

Assorted Clonecest Fics - Body (Cody/Rex) | E

(Fic under the cut)

CC-22-- Cody still hasn’t gotten used to this, to having a body again. Not that he didn’t have one in the true sense of the word, but he was barely in control anymore, hadn’t been for a very long time.

For him, now, even simple stuff like commanding his hand to close, and his body doing exactly that, feels strange. How could he do it with so much ease before losing control? And most importantly, will he be able to do it again?

Even speaking has become hard for him. How many times he tried to speak, when he was still under the chip’s control, to scream out for someone, anyone, to just kill him, put him out of his misery? And now he can do it, if he wanted to. And yet, it doesn’t feel like his voice, at least not yet, just like with his body.

 Just how long it will take before he gets used to this?

 In all this, Rex is truly what he needs: not only he’s understanding when Cody needs some space, which doesn’t mean actually being left alone, but just to have some distance between the two of them, but he’s also agreed to take things slow, to let Cody gets used to being in control of his body again.

When he admitted his fears to him, he was afraid that he wasn’t going to understand, but Rex did. “Cody, I’ve waited so long to have you back that I can wait until you figure things out,” he said, and it warmed Cody’s heart that he was truly so devoted to him that he was willing to put up with this.

Even now, he still feels like he doesn’t deserve him.

 They go slow, at first just touching hands, brushing their shoulders together. Only after a while Cody’s comfortable with kissing again. It’s frustrating that he’s not able to make progress faster, but Rex still doesn’t seem to mind, bless him.

Being able to cuddle for long periods of time is Cody’s greatest victory, or at least he thinks so. It was overwhelming at first, but he has to admit it: he missed it quite a lot.

As for other, more intimate, activities, they still haven’t tried anything, too afraid of doing too much in too little time. Even Cody agrees that it would be strenuous to him, not to mention the fact that both he and Rex aren’t even that young anymore. They should carry themselves with more dignity than that.

Still, he can’t lie: he misses that too, greatly.

 It’s at night that he finally makes up his mind.

They haven’t been doing much, just lying down on Rex’s bed and holding each other, trading kisses back and forth, when Cody speaks. “Rex, listen… There’s something I want to try.”

“What is it?” Rex asks. Damn it, does Cody really need to spell it out? He was really hoping Rex would get it immediately - they have been talking about it after all.

He raises an eyebrow at him, and Rex still looks confused… until he doesn’t anymore. “Oh,” he mutters. “Are you sure about that?”

Cody nods. “Yes, gods, I’ve been wanting this for a while. Just… let’s start slow?”

“Of course!” Rex exclaims. He moves himself between Cody’s legs, holding him by the waist. “If you ever want to stop, anytime, say it, alright?”

“Of course,” Cody replies. “Now kiss me you old fool.”

Rex rolls his eyes, but he complies, boy if he complies.

 Cody can’t believe that he used to be afraid of Rex kissing him, but look at him now: he can’t get enough of it.

He feels his skin burn at Rex’s passage, but it’s not as bad as he thought it would’ve been, even though for this first time, they don’t remove any layer of clothing. Little steps, little steps.

When Rex slowly lowers a hand between Cody’s legs, he hisses at the sensation, which makes Rex freeze on the spot. “Too much?” he asks.

Cody shakes his head. “No. It’s just been a while…”

“That is has,” Rex replies, slowly going back to palm him through his pants; they leave much more room to the imagination than the blacks they used to wear, but Rex doesn’t mind it. Besides, he can still feel Cody begin to harden under his touch. He kisses his neck. “How is it?”

“Good…” Cody mutters, encouraging Rex to touch him harder, making him moan and buck his hips up.

 It’s all very intense for him, but in a way it’s also grounding: it’s his body that is feeling all these sensations, yes, but it’s also him. He doesn’t know how to explain it better.

He arches against the sheets, craving more of that oh-so-good friction. “Rex… More.”

“You sure?” Rex asks, but every doubt disappears when Cody nods. Yeah, he’s sure. “Alright, tell me if it’s too much,” he warns him then, before opening his pants and gently freeing his cock of any constraint. A shiver runs across Cody’s spine as he feels his erection spring free in the cold air. It doesn’t last long, as Rex takes him in his hand, closing his fist around his shaft, but still without moving.

Cody opens his eyes, and notices that Rex’s studying him, searching for any sign of discomfort. It’s a lot, that is undeniable, but Cody wants to go on. He doesn’t want to stop yet. “Rex, I’m fine. Just go.”

Rex doesn’t respond with words, but he begins to move his fist up and down Cody’s cock, who can’t hold back a moan at the sensation.

“Feels good, Rex. So good…”

 It’s a true testament of how long it’s been since Cody has done this, because he soon feels close to the climax. “Rex, I… Kriff.”

“It’s okay Cody, you can let go,” Rex, who’s understood where things are going, encourages him. With those words, Cody finally feels safe enough to really let himself go, and he comes, while Rex keeps stroking him throughout the entirety of his orgasm, stopping only after Cody has ridden the high entirely.

 Cody’s a mess.

It’s been a while since he’s felt something so intense. It leaves him drowsy, numb, but in a good way, because yes, it was good.

“Cody? Are you okay?”

He opens his eyes, meeting Rex’s. He smiles. “Yes, I’m fine,” he says, before cupping the other’s face with his hands. “Thank you, for indulging me.”

“Thank you for trusting me,” Rex replies, before adding, “Can I kiss you, or is it too much?”

“You can,” comes Cody’s reply, followed by a sweet kiss on his lips.

 He’s still a long way from being considered “alright”, but the more time passes, the closer he feels he’s getting there.

His body feels more and more like it’s truly his, and now he can even enjoy a more intimate kind of closeness to Rex without the danger of being too overwhelmed by it.

Yes, things are definitely looking up for him.

Tag list: @maulusque @captainrexwouldnever @anameofanykind If you want to be added feel free to let me know!

[dnscully]

your offscreen sex theory is fun but if you think Scully was sleeping with Mulder off and on since S4 but all things was when she was "completely 100% in" can you explain why she then decided to ditch him in the middle of the night? because that feels significant to me

i def always thought it was weird and the way the writers and directors change per episode without a show bible makes it so hard to fully connect things in a way that makes sense from all angles. but i remember reading this fic by @mldrgrl which i think is this one where she gets all dressed and leaves overwhelmed, but then changes her mind last minute and gets back into bed with mulder. i think that’s cute and if they had been sleeping together and this was sort of the pivotal moment in their relationship it makes sense. another reason could be that she just genuinely had to be somewhere. maybe it was sunday (i personally always assumed this was early in the morning) and she was going to church. that kind of thing.

but all in all it’s just so hard to make sense of the timeline of events with the x files because the writers and directors and actors, i think, all have different conceptualizations and ideas for mulder and scully. for example, if cc wrote that episode you could bet on the fact that it wouldn’t even have suggested they slept together as explicitly as gillian directed it to. if dd wrote it, she probably wouldn’t have left him in the middle of the night/early morning at all.

another thing is that just because all things is the episode where they fully realize they are It™️ for each other and start actually being together after being on and off offscreen (in my theory) it doesn’t mean scully is necessarily going to suddenly go from 0 to 100 relationship-wise despite being 100% IN, maybe she’s not 100% used to being a girlfriend. maybe she wanted to take smaller steps regardless of the fact they’d been sleeping together intermittently (again, in my theory). and it doesn’t mean she’s any less scared of finally being in a relationship with mulder. after being friends and partners and on-and-off-romantic-partners for 7ish years, it’s hard to suddenly be completely and absolutely IN in the newer version of their relationship in any way other than being completely in it feelings-wise. she can love him completely but still have an adjustment period especially after everything they went through (and more recently, with the diana drama, you can probably expect there to be some awkwardness).

i personally took her leaving him in the middle of the night quite lightly because i don’t think it’s the first time they slept together and i don’t think it’s out of character for scully to do something like this. i don’t think she’d go from who she has been in season 1-6 to suddenly be the kind of girl that would cuddle up in bed with mulder and wake up with him in the morning and immediately slip into the role of his girlfriend immediately after they get over all their history/baggage/etc. i dunno, it’s just me, and again it’s just a theory. i just don’t think they WOULDNT have been sleeping together after scully’s cancer, and i don’t think the diana thing would’ve hit scully as hard as it did if they didn’t already have something going on. i also fully cannot understand how things could go back to normal after fight the future. but again that’s just me!!

[cat-sapphics]

Helloooo I just got into dsmp, kinda. I found heaps of fan art on here & decided to check it out! anyway I just saw ur blog and I’m interested in ur opinions, like the general fandom . also in ur about you talk about having strong opinions of who we should support, I’d love to hear!! or even if u have any posts about it lol. have a good day

hi anon!! dsmp is a big focus of my blog but it's not the main and it's only casual, not dedicated or anything, so i can try to help you but you may wanna check out bigger more well-known blogs instead. :,)

but anyway, to start - if you're gonna be on dsmpblr, these were the posts i saved from a while back when i first gave them a read: [X] [X] [X] [X] [X] and also @smp-boundaries is a good blog to skim through for cc boundaries (that's important).

i'll warn you that dsmp analysis here gets incredibly long, complex, and overwhelming - in a good way of course, but i'm neurodivergent and have to be in the mood for it lol. i don't do much of that, but i'll reblog such posts sometimes.

in addition to that, the lore is MASSIVELY long and it just majorly started up again this past weekend consecutively until now after another one of their random long unexplained (but i can guess why) hiatuses. i got into it just about a year ago and it was already a lot of catching-up to do, but i guess the difficulty depends on if you want a summary or to be an expert on the timestamps and quotes of every available VOD. some really good, easily-navigable, organized sources for either, imo, would be [these] [four] [carrds] [here].

my personal advice is a little less so, lmao. as silly as it sounds, i would say just go with the flow and learn and build from there. follow basic tags (linked above with all the Xs), reblog those posts, follow blogs you look through and like, and as you build your dash with analysis, fanart, and general fandom-esque posts, you'll have a platform, even if it's only small. that's what i did and it worked i guess, so i don't know of anything better to do. maybe someone who reads the tags can add on, absolutely anyone with experience may feel free.

ALSO, i just remembered that you mentioned all the drama and discourse and my opinions - only participate if you have the energy and patience and like... actually care and want to. seriously. it's not fun if you don't feel like you have the upper hand and honestly i was only drawn to it because of all the unhealthy internet drama i've been in constantly since i was 12 or 13. but yeah, basically either way just stay away from twitter for a chance at a good experience is pretty much how to sum it all up. if you want to know more from *me*, i did mention in my about that my tag for that on this blog is #pridecat hates mcyttwt. i guess you could learn some of the controversy from that, but just looking up tags in general tumblr like #dsmp discourse, #mcyt discourse, #mcyt drama, #techno drama, #schlatt drama, #tommy neg, #dsmp antis, etc. would have a broader range of ideas. i like it here because most dsmp fans seem to have some common sense and mostly agree that it's all ridiculous and enraging.

apologies for the low-effort and lack of knowledge anon, but you did ask me so i tried my best lololololol i hope it's enough and understandable at least

[aces-to-apples]

Written for Day 4: Time-Travel of Codywan Week 2020 @codywanweek

Here on AO3

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Archive Warning: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Category: M/M Relationship: CC-2224 | Cody/Obi-Wan Kenobi Additional Tags: no betas we die like man, time-travel, Dehumanization, Blood and Injury, Canon-Typical Awful Treatment of Clones, Discussions of Murder, Ambiguous/Open Ending

“philter of the phantom”

CC-2224 knew that this would be its last mission for the Empire.

It was still in prime physical condition, a well-crafted piece of hardware meant to last through decades of wear and tear before beginning to break down, but its user-interface was considered suboptimal. A relic from a bygone era.

Creepy, was the word most often used to describe CC-2224. Look at him. His eyes follow you and the lights are on but nobody's home. It's doshing creepy.

Decommissioning was unavoidable, inevitable, imminent.

Its only hope was that it would be allowed to serve the Empire until its end.

When it had been informed that it was to retrieve an object of great importance for the Emperor, at any cost, CC-2224 knew its time of decommissioning had come. The mission would be more dangerous than the briefing implied and CC-2224 would fall in service of the Galactic Empire, just as it desired. Everything would be done.

As predicted in the back of its programming, the mission was a cockup from the beginning. They—CC-2224, its team of useless whiteshells, and the Inquisitor leading the mission—were led into an ambush after retrieving the Emperor’s property.

The whiteshells went down quickly, to no surprise and a great deal of disgust from CC-2224. Its brothers (good soldiers follow orders) would have been a better choice for the mission, for the army, but had been passed over.

Clones were no longer respected as the greatest fighting force in the galaxy. Their numbers had been dwindling ever since Kamino was shut down.

They were a dying breed.

But, dying or not, CC-2224 wasn’t dead yet.

It secured the objective and left the Inquisitor to deal with the—Separatists? No, there were no more Separatists—enemy forces by themself. A Jedi would have had no trouble, but the Jedi were traitors to the Repub—to the Empire—and the Inquisitor had been trained by the Emperor himself.

They would live or die as the Force willed, and CC-2224 had its orders: secure the objective, at any cost.

With the shuttle in sight and the Inquisitor inadvertently keeping the heat off of CC-2224, it broke from its defensive position and retreated in full. The screams of the dead and dying blotted out all other sounds, only cutting out as CC-2224 tripped over the threshold of the shuttle and sealed the door.

It sucked in a breath and stumbled to the cockpit, setting a course for the nearest Imperial forces before collapsing back into the pilot’s seat. CC-2224 sat there for a moment, confused as to why it was not moving, not completing one of the many tasks aboard even such a small vessel, before the realization struck.

Cold.

Its body quaked ever so slightly, sight greying out more and more every second, and it felt unbearably cold. It looked down at itself.

In the crook of one elbow lay the Emperor’s prize—a crystalline, geometric object that pulsed with a low-grade sense of malevolence—but something was wrong. Where before it had worn pristine white plastoid, it was now a bright and shocking hue of scarlet. Blood—a lot of it.

CC-2224 examined itself with a detached sort of curiosity, feeling faraway and uninterested. A quick pat-down of its torso quickly revealed the culprit and brought with it a flood of pain. One of the Sepa—Reb—one of the enemies must have been carrying a slugthrower. Unusual, unaccounted for, unexpected, and all the more deadly.

It would bleed out before it reached Imperial forces, CC-2224 noted dully. The idea didn’t bother it overly much. It’d known it would die on this mission, had accepted that upon assignment, and faced with its imminent decommissioning, it felt very little at all. Not fear, not anger, not regret...

Well, and that wasn’t true.

CC-2224 had regrets.

(Good soldiers follow orders.)

Alone in its mind, on the brink of death, it could acknowledge their existence.

It wished, suddenly, that things were different. Not for itself, no, death had no power over CC-2224. There was no death, after all, only the Force. And there was its regret. That it had sent its—his—that it had executed a traitor, without hesitation or remorse, and that the traitor had rejoined the Force believing he had CC-2224’s loyalty.

Loyalty and love.

CC-2224 had loved the traitor and his execution was a blight on its existence.

The traitor’s fall down, down, down into the waters of Utapau haunted its dreams.

Dead, the traitor was dead, he had to be. If the traitor had survived the fall that no being could survive, then CC-2224 had failed in its orders. It would be forced to complete the mission before submitting itself for decommissioning.

So the traitor Jedi must be dead, or else CC-2224 would never be allowed to die.

… And you want to die…

Perhaps not, it conceded to itself, because death tended to solve very little in the grand scheme of the galaxy. But it certainly no longer wanted to exist here, now, in this galaxy that the glorious Emperor had built upon the blood and bones of—of the—

It didn’t matter.

CC-2224 had nothing, had no one, would die very soon, without any of its brothers to hold its hand and watch him march far away. It’d always thought it would have at least that little bit of comfort, at the end.

… But you don’t want the end… You want the beginning… As do I…

Still nestled in the crook of its arm, the objective shivered, barely perceptible, and it looked down to see… something… a ripple that shouldn’t exist… before its vision finally went dark…

.

The disappointment might kill it before the blood loss, it decides as sound and pain begin to filter back into its consciousness. All it wants is an end to its godsawful existence, is that too much to ask? An end to pain and fear and remorse, the easiest thing in the galaxy to accomplish, except if you’re CC-karking-2224.

“Wake up, please, please, wake up…”

It gripes and growls and groans at the order, the request, the plea, but complies, conditioned as it’s been to respond to that voice and tone.

Prying its eyes open isn’t something it even feels capable of doing, but it grits its teeth as it's done so many times before. “Oh,” Kote breathes, staring at the blood-and-dirt-streaked face hovering over his own. “Hello there.”

The ghost smiles, adding tears into the mixture of grime, and lets out a chuckle that sounds like a sob.

“You scared me, Commander” it says, accusatory, as if that’s the worst crime he’s committed against its person. “Oh, Cody, I thought we’d lost you. No, don’t move, I’m going to comm the medics that we finally found you.”

Kote stops trying to prop himself up and just observes the spectre of his long-dead general report their position and his condition. He could look around, take stock of whatever years-over battle this surprisingly kind fever-dream has dropped him into, but instead he drinks in the sight.

“Well, Cody, I’m afraid the medics are not going to be kind to you after this.”

Smiling more softly than he has in over a decade, Kote watches the spectre fret over his blood-sticky armor, trying to assess the damage. “I forgot he used to call me that,” Kote murmurs, disbelieving at his luck.

Of all the ways his mind could comfort him as he dies, he never thought his general’s ghost would lead him into the Force. Perhaps this dying shavit isn’t so bad.

The spectre quirks its head to the side like a little bird, brow furrowed, mouth curled to one side. “What do you mean?”

Kote feels the hot, hard coil of tension that he’s carried in his chest for so, so long begin to unravel just a little bit. He shakes his head ruefully just thinking about it, his expression no doubt disgustingly sweet. “Never had the heart to tell him he got it wrong that first time,” he admits, watching the spectre go still. “Not like it was a hardship, going from Kote to Cody. I liked it, even. Like when the tubies start losing teeth and can’t get their words right anymore.”

He chuckles at the memories, a little bubble of blood forming at his mouth. The spectre doesn’t look nearly as amused; instead, its expression had turned glacial as he’d reminisced, and now looks only gut-punched.

“Do you—” His general’s ghost looks like he’s already marching. “Cody—Kote—do you recognize me?” he asks urgently, throwing a panicked look over his shoulder. “You know me, don’t you?”

And that, ha, that’s the funniest thing he’s heard in years.

More blood works its way out of his mouth as his breath wheezes out in a painful laugh. “‘Course I do, cyar’ika,” Kote reassures the spectre. “You’re my damnfool Jedi, always rushing into danger like you’re trying to prove something to… someone… Some dead man, most like.”

He can feel himself losing steam the longer he speaks, becoming colder and more tired with every word.

The spectre darts another look over his shoulder, face spasming like he doesn’t understand what he’s seeing, until Kote fumbles around and grabs one of his hands. He looks back down, then, face going soft and tears coming thick and fast. “I don’t understand,” he whispers, breathing beginning to hitch.

His poor general looks overwhelmed and unsure, like he was back nearer the beginning of the war. “I’m sorry,” he says thickly, “I’m so sorry, ner cyare. I didn’t mean to, I didn’t want to, I’m sorry, ni ceta…”

Obi-Wan’s ghost flinches like he’s been struck, but he holds tight to Kote’s hand and pushes an errant curl away from his forehead, though Kote doesn’t remember pulling off his bucket. “Whatever it is, I forgive you,” he replies, voice sweet and lovely like he’s talking to a panicked shiny. Maybe that’s what he is, right now. “You just need to hold on a bit longer, my dear, the medics are nearly here. I’ve got you, I’ve got you, I forgive you…”

He can feel himself slipping away, into the yawning darkness.

With his luck, he’ll just wake up back on the shuttle, his general’s forgiveness a hazy memory to torture himself with. He can hear shouting, dulled by the rushing of his ears, the sound of his own heartbeat, Obi-Wan whispering benedictions and pleas to hang on, just a little more…

The hand in his grasp is pulled away and Kote whines, wanting to hold his general’s hand when he dies, but other figures crowd around him, pushing the spectre away.

And that’s—that’s not karking fair, and Kote isn’t afraid to fripping say so, to push the painfully-familiar hands and buckets away because, damn it all, he’s dying here, can’t he get a little peace, for once?

“Settle down, brother,” dear, dead, Coric says with the authority of a medic to back up the order. “If you keep this up you’ll cause more damage than we can fix.”

Kote opens his mouth to tell Coric’s ghost exactly what he can shove up his shebs but is stymied by an unceremonious hypo to the neck, cutting him off.

The last thing he thinks he sees before the dark returns is his general, covered in filth and gore, looking more conflicted than Kote has ever seen him before. And at his side, a mirror image of himself, looking solid and implacable and like he’s meticulously planning a murder.

Well, if that’s how it is, Kote doesn’t mind marching off.

He’s got his general’s back.

[mariaiscrafting]

I’m the anon about fanfic and fanart. I just want to say that I’m fine with analysis when they talk about how dnf react to each other when they say or do something but don’t really like how they bring that point into their relationship. It’s one thing to me to say they have a flirty friendship but insisting that they have something more in private bothers me. I always thought that fanfiction and fanart are ways to analyze creators or dynamics so I was curious on what you thought of them. Fans always project things onto creators they like so they make things arolving them. I know you’re worried about how this can strain the content creators and other fandoms, but establishing boundaries is important and it was already addressed by the Dream Team themselves so I don’t see why you have to go out of your way to tell dnf shippers to not to analyze them. I’m not here to hate you but wanting to understand how making a call out post to tell dnf shippers to not to psychoanalizing interactions instead of trying to put more of a distance between yourself and the blogs without putting them down. On Twitter, there was a tweet that misinterpreted Dream and George’s first meeting and Dream corrected them but never condemned them for shipping. He also said in many tweets and said in stream that just how they are and said that fans are allowed to do what they want when it comes to them. Also liking a fan tweet where #Dreamfell was dnf related even though the situation didn’t need to be. Twitter is directly involved with the creators themselves so of course it’s hard to ignore. Even then in Twitter you can still mute words. I’m here for a conversation and not out hate. This is Tumblr where it’s mostly Fandom focused and some dnf shippers like to analyze to project whatever onto them so if we don’t want to see it, asking for a tag so you can block it here. Like #dng long post or just block the analysis tag. We’re all responsible to create our own fandom experience so I don’t want to call fans disgusting when they haven’t done anything wrong since Dream had stated He’s fine with it. I don’t want you to feel excluded in the dnf side of Tumblr since you still find the ship nice, but if you don’t want the long analysis posts since it feels morally wrong to you then we can try to agree on separating the casual and the analytical side of dnf. Your feelings towards dnf blog analysises are valid so your fandom experience should be catered to.

I am actually half delirious while answering this, so Imma keep it short and simple.

I do cater my own tumblr experience to what I want. I do block people who post stuff I don't like so I don't see it in the tags. All your advice is nice, but unnecessary.

I think that I should be allowed to criticize circles that I am in in the hopes that they will approve and shift what they consider the norm. Yes, Dream said that he is okay with shipping and has engaged with it and panders to the audience with it. But to take anyone's green light on any issue involving their personal lives, and to run rampantly with it is still fucked.

And look, I don't think I've properly articulated why I call this behavior disgusting. I want to emphasize that I view it as dehumanizing. To reduce a person's behaviors and tendencies to whatever vicarious romantic gratification you can get from them is an appalling act, devoid of empathy. It exemplifies the commodification of CCs for the audience's sole entertainment and that audience's lack of basic respect for them or acknowledgement that they are real life human beings who function beyond whatever romantic framework you fantasize them in. I keep bringing up this example, I know, but it's what incited this whole discourse for me in the first place, but that analysis of Dream's few seconds of silence as him focusing on George's voice because he's just so in love with him? That analysis, and the overwhelming consensus on that post perfectly exemplify just how dehumanizing this crossing of a line can be. It erases the conceptual space for any other, rational and non-romantic explanation for a few seconds of silence that could have easily been attributed to distraction, a moment to collect his thoughts, etc. It also perfectly exemplifies how, through the overanalysis, shippers force CCs into two-dimensional boxes that best fit their wants, devoid of nuance. In this instance, Dream is not a busy content creator who hasn't streamed very often for the past few months and might be readjusting to consistently talking in front of a live audience, or a young adult with ADHD whose brain jumps from point to point in its search for dopamine, or literally any other kind of human being with multiple characteristics and personality traits influencing his behaviors; he is a prop for our self-idulgent ship. I'm reading way too much into this one example, I know, but I just want to also say that this is like a much higher problem than just one post. I don't care about the content of one fucking post, I care about what that post and the methods of analysis employ imply about the rest of dnf shippers. This community is following behaviors that are concerning, and this is just one example of hundreds that exemplify that.

Projection is fine. Projection is employed in RPF fanfictions, character headcanons, different fanart styles - it's all over the mcyt fandom and I don't have a problem with it. My PROBLEM is with people who act like their analyses of Dream and George and literally any other content creator are actually representative of reality. My problem is with people who don't understand that there is a difference between stanning and creating/consuming fan content for a creator's persona, and theorizing about what that creator's actual character as a real life human being is.

Okay, also, I might just be getting more irritable because it's 2 am and I want to be asleep, but I actually do have a problem with you essentially saying that a preferred solution for me is to simply cut myself off from half the community. Basically, I should just plug my ears and shield my eyes if I see problematic content I am morally against? Fuck off, mate. There are many, many things I choose not to start discourse on and simply block or mute because I don't care enough to try and change it. But dnf shipping is something that I actively engage with, is kind of a significant part of my online presence and experience, and also a way I've made a lot of friends in this community. So yeah, I have a vested interest in making sure it doesn't go down the same, fucked paths I've seen other shipping communities go down, and if that means making a discourse post that makes you uncomfortable, I suggest you block me.

I'm not advocating for this fandom to partition up based on what we all think is right and wrong. I want integration of different ideas, useful discourse, and self-growth. And none of that is solved by creating a separate hashtag

[fioletowa-krowa]

So I’ve had to deal with the absolute worst customer in my entire working career ever this past week. (It’s Rose at the Notre Dame university bookstore in case anyone was wondering) apologies in advance, it’s going to be long

So for this school we have two “titles” that are basically just boxes of lab equipment. There’s a lock, goggles, a lab coat, a notebook, and an access card for the online book. These are shipped as individual boxes since there’s a good amount of materials. This is different from what we usually send to stores, which would be boxes of multiple notebooks. I mention this bc the store manager, Rose made such a damned big deal about it.

So the whole ordeal started at the beginning of the month when my boss CC-ed me on an email conversation with Rose letting her know that she was going to be out of town so to contact me with any questions or requests for her order of the two bundles we had for the school. She ended the email with “hopefully things go smoothly this year” so already I have a bad feeling that this is going to be difficult.

Rose emails me to let me know that this is a time when they receive a lot of deliveries at their store (she specifically mentioned receiving football equipment in addition to books and school supplies) so she wanted to make sure that their order of nearly 1000 bundles could be split into smaller orders with only one order arriving per day to make sure that they weren’t overwhelmed at the store. A bit of an annoying request, but not impossible for us to attempt to accommodate. The only thing being that once an order leaves our warehouse we have zero control over how long it takes to deliver or when it gets delivered so I told Rose that I was putting notes on her orders so that they would hopefully ship on different days and then be delivered on different days. And she again reminded me that they needed the orders to arrive just as she specified. Okay, fine, I’m doing what I can.

Now, unfortunately, we’ve been having delays it’s getting materials and books in stock on time this season bc our printers are all short staffed and they can only print and ship so much at a time. So the bundles are already going to be a little later than expected. We had a team of people putting the boxes together at our satellite warehouse last last week so we could get them shipped out last week.

So we finally get things together and get the first order shipped out Tuesday. This first order was for 85 boxes of one title (11181) and 150 copies of the other (11171) and the manager at the satellite warehouse gets it shipped out Tuesday last week. On Wednesday I send Rose an email with the tracking information (I had to wait for our regular warehouse manager to get me the info bc the satellite manager was out all of last week after Tuesday) and at 4:56 Wednesday evening I get the following email from Rose:

“Beth, do you realize we already got three skids today? You sent a skid of 11181 when we only wanted 85 and two skids of 11171. Please do not send any more of 11181 and I will write up everything tomorrow and you can arrange a call tag to pick up the others. This is a hot mess and the paperwork the driver had was wrong and we have damaged cases as well. Way to go..........................”

So I was about to lose my mind at this. Not only was it at the end of the day, but she was incredibly rude over something that was genuinely a mistake and moreso, not my fault! The editor in charge of the projects wanted to respond to her that evening, but I told her that, quite frankly, I was off for the day and Rose didn’t deserve any of my unpaid time. Plus i wanted to hear back from the warehouse to see their end in case something happened so they sent out more than they were supposed to or if Rose was just stupid and we did what we said we would and it just wasn’t exactly what she was expecting. So the editor sent Rose a message saying that I’d get back to her in the morning with more information and I went to dinner w my parents and papa so that I wouldn’t punch a hold thru a wall in anger

So Thursday morning I get in to an email from our main warehouse manager (since the satellite manager was out the rest of the week) letting me know that we had sent three skids for the order. Because each skid holds 96 boxes. So, since the order was for 235 boxes, it physically had to ship as three skids. I was fucking giddy as I typed my response to Rose, spelling out why she received three skids and letting her know that I would be holding her remaining four orders for 150 of 11171 each until I got the go-ahead from her that she was okay with the fact that the orders would be one and a half skids each.

Well, Rose emails back that we actually sent three full skids instead of one full and two partials. She included the phrase “believe it or not, I can count” and then after reiterating how she wanted her orders sent said, “My next suggestion would be to fulfill my orders as requested going forward.” And asked if they’d be getting another order that day. So I typed up a very off-color response to her informing her how obnoxious and cunty I thought she was being and how her attitude was helping exactly zero people and quite honestly making me feel less inclined to be helpful at all. And then I typed up a nicer response and asked my boss for read it over to make sure that it was professional and appropriate. In my email i let her know that we only had the paperwork to go off of as the warehouse manager who put the shipment out was out of the office, so we legitimately did not know that she received more than what was on her order and that, no I had held her other orders to make sure that she was okay with how they were going to be shipped, but I could put them in and hopefully get the next one shipped out that day or Friday.

At that point, she got the other manager at their store involved who emailed Friday morning to ask me to confirm they’d be getting the rest of their order that day as they had students arriving on campus who would need them. I informed her that no, we hadn’t shipped anything else yet and said that it was bc our satellite warehouse was short staffed (which is essentially true. There’s one person who works in that warehouse— the manager— and he’d been out all week) so Rose jumped back in to say “Just to make certain I understand correctly, there hasn't been another order shipped since the first delivery? We need to get on the ball with this order short staffed or not folks!!”

At that point i was beyond pissed. They were asking for something above and beyond what we do normally, and we were doing everything we could to keep them placated, including shipping the rest of their orders for free, but there’s literally only so much we can do with the staff that we have. So, after venting into an empty word doc, I responded with “That is correct. We wanted to make sure that we wouldn't overwhelm you with multiple orders in a day, like you asked, and since the first shipment went out incorrectly, we wanted to be sure that it didn't happen again. Unfortunately that means that we aren't able to schedule a pickup from the shipper until Monday as it took some time to confirm that the rest of the shipments were okay to go forward per your instructions. The remaining shipments will be going out all of next week, but if you need us to send more than one order at a time, please let me know and I can coordinate with our warehouse team to make sure that happens.” (Also I’m now realizing that rose never actually confirmed that we could/should ship the rest of the orders so that’s a fun thing) as this was going on, I was trying to coordinate with our warehouse manager to see if we could get the next order out and (as my dad who works in that warehouse told me) they were basically running around asking every shipper who came by that day if they could take the order bc the store’s preferred shipper wasn’t available to pick it up. But we finally managed to get it picked up and shipped around 1 Friday afternoon

So, Rose, in all of her Karen-ness responds “In what world would it be, as the buyer, my fault for making and having confirmation of shipping directions the reason why your company has failed??” Funnily enough, that email sent me passed pissed off to just calm and I’d started typing a response when a message from my boss (who had been CC-ed on the entire conversation) popped up saying “take a minute, step away from your computer, then respond” so I laughed to myself and explained to Rose that I wasn’t trying to blame her (yes I was) but that I was only trying to explain why I was being so cautious and why there would be a gap in their shipments. Of course, then I get an email from the other store manager saying that she wished we had communicated the delay in shipments ahead of time and that if that had happened they would have been able to tell us that it mattered more that they received the boxes on time, not that they were received separately as originally requested, ending with “I would have thought this would be a logical conclusion on your part, so the mistake was mine in thinking that.”

And that’s when I realized that this manager (Becky) hadn’t been informed of everything that actually had happened and most likely just got the bitching from Rose that we’d messed up and it was all our fault that they wouldn’t be getting the boxes on time. So I got to inform her that I had told Rose immediately that we were going to be holding the remainder of her orders until we got the ok from her to ship since she’d been so upset with how the first shipment had arrived.

So once I’d gotten that all explained and smoothed out, I got an email from the freaking Macmillan rep for the area who’s been “filled in” on the situation and wanted to make sure that we were going to be able to get the store what they needed and when 🙄 and she followed up this morning to make sure that we’d done what we said. So we got the order delivered today, another one that’s either been delivered since or is being delivered tomorrow, a third that’s either tomorrow or Wednesday, and the last order that’s shipping tomorrow being delivered Wednesday or Thursday depending on shipping times.

Behind the scenes, I wasn’t aware, but my boss’s boss and his (new) boss had also been filled in about the situation and my boss had explained our half of the story, so I got a message from my boss’s boss thanking me for handling the situation and that he thought it had handled the situation well and professionally and that it was “100% the fault of an extremely difficult customer”

I’m just so Done with this and I hope to God I don’t ever have to deal with this store in the future

[agentsnickers]

"I could talk at length about the relationship between the kids in CC" - Hi!! me!!! I would like to hear about this. I will never get enough of these kids!!

You do not have to ask me twice.

Like I said earlier, Sawyer starts CC timid and quiet. They don’t want to make waves. 

Enter Frankie Higgins-Conlon and Leah Jacobs, forces of nature. 

Sawyer is pretty lucky to only meet Frankie at first, since they’d probably have been incredibly overwhelmed to have met both of them at once. See, Frankie and Leah are both pretty high energy kids, and unlike Sawyer they’ve never had a reason to be afraid to speak up or ask for things or share opinions. Frankie is loud, and Leah is super snarky, and both of those things are utterly foreign to Sawyer. 

Frankie and Leah are a little bit younger than Sawyer, and they totally latch onto them the instant they meet. There’s this really quick understanding between the two of them like “ah, yes, this kid is our kind of smartass deep down” (although they obviously don’t have that language yet) and they adopt Sawyer immediately. 

And Sawyer, for their part, grabs on just as tight. Sawyer has school friends, other people they get along with, but there’s nobody who can get them talking like Leah and Frankie. It’s part shared interests and part trusting the environment they’re in when they’re with their cousin & Bee. 

(And that’s sort of a “Leah and Frankie feel safe, I can feel safe too” situation. Not entirely, but partially.)

Frankie is just barely five to Sawyer’s just barely seven when they first meet, with Leah fully five and a half when she first meets Sawyer. There’s occasionally a disconnect of maturity (two years when you’re 5 & 7 is a lot!), but at the end of the day the three of them get along like a house on fire much to the delight and occasional frustration of their parents.

The kids love each other a lot! They’re best buds, and Sawyer fits in really nicely with the other two. As much as Leah and Frankie help Sawyer get more comfortable and come out of their shell, Sawyer balances them out a lot. Sawyer plays the long-suffering sibling, but they’re usually right there with Leah and Frankie on their schemes.