#so i'm kinda stuck with this for the moment

[sxorpiomooon]

What does your 30 year old self wants to say to you?

Paid readings

masterlist

buy me a coffee

Pile 1-

This is the third time that I'm writing for this pile, the first two times Tumblr glitched and removed everything. You guys will be the first in your family to do or achieve something big. 

One of the biggest lesson that you might have to learn in this life is to always be prepared of letting things go and start anew, from a clean slate. Some of you are stuck in a toxic relationship or connection that you realise that you have to let go off but just cannot seem to do so. Your thirty year old self is telling you that you need to learn to ask for help when needed. There are people I keep hearing adults around you that can help you out only if you let them. For some reason I keep having visions of Hayley and Claire from modern family? Yk how in real life how the actress who plays claire helped out hayley to get out of an abusive relationship? It's like that I feel. Scott street keeps on playing in my head. Be impulsive and be defensive perhaps you need to let your anger take over you to remind yourself of who you truly are. My pile one please do ask for help when needed. For the rest of you, your thirty year old self is telling you that in order to bring in the new good stuff you need to first make space for it by removing all the bad stuff that is no longer serving you. Be brave you need to reminded of who you truly are and no one else can do it better than someone near you who truly loves you.

Pile 2-

Learn how to balance and prioritise because the moment you learn these skills you will be able to survive anywhere in any condition. "You are not wasting time but opportunities" don't let opportunities pass you by because you feel as if it's not the right time or you don't have enough time because there is no such thing as having enough time or there being a right time. Time is only right when you make it so. I keep having visions of pink pilates aesthetic yall need to learn a skill that will keep you grounded be it yoga or pilates anything that will help you in keeping yourself grounded. You have to learn how to chill I keep feeling as if this is my workoholic pile. Some of you might even feel as if you are doing nothing in your life and fear that it will remain like this only however let me assure you that is not the case. I see you will be very very booked and busy in the future. I feel like that is also what your future self is telling you? That you have time now so do enjoy like don't waste it sitting in front of a screen stressed out. You have enough time now because you won't in the future, make full use of it.

Pile 3-

That's crazy the first thing that came to my mind even before I pulled the cards was "slow and steady wins the race" and I'm seeing the colour teal and peacock green alot. When I pulled the cards I feel as if this is directly being channeled from your future self to you as in this is actually your future self going "what I'd like to say to her blahblah" and that's what I'm channeling for you. I think you are sitting in front of a shop or a restaurant idk that's white and it's late night and it's windy you are wearing black you kinda look like that sister from the new YOU season? Anyways yes and I see a diamond somewhere maybe it's a bracelet or a necklace one of these and this is a question that your friend has asked you. The overall energy feels very very grateful and nostalgic. Your future self is speaking in a very grateful and nostalgic manner I heard bulgari? Anyways, they want you to be careless and very action oriented I heard "inaction is also an action" and "might as well just do it" they want you to go on alot of trips and basically say yes to adventures. I feel like this pile might not have much fun and might just try to stay in their comfort zone. The kind to decide to study instead of going out and partying and your future self wants you to know that you can do both. Party on you by charli xcx started playing. They also want you to spend your money and work hard I feel like they just want you to let lose and feel free for once. That everything will be ok and working hard doesn't mean that you have to devoid yourself of fun. You can have fun and still work hard. Man I feel like crying this feels so personal I feel like this pile will also be very defensive to my claim and say that oh they cannot afford to have fun etc etc but I think you can, every once in a while no matter the circumstances and this is not me saying this but you only so think about it

Pile 4

There are going to be alot of people who wouldn't want you to succeed, there will be alot of gossip and alot of betrayal but none of that is going to stop you from achieving what you have been working hard to get. The answer is pretty straightforward with this one honestly alot of relatives and friends around you will plot against you and throw dirt on your name but none of them will stand a chance against you. Alot will come, alot will go but only you will remain. You do not have to defend yourself verbally every time just focus on working hard. You'll see how as the time passes all of them will fall on their own and instead of you all the other people will be defending your name and honour. I heard aries and scorpio. Long short story by Taylor Swift pay attention to the lyrics. Do not indulge in petty gossip or with petty people I promise you one day the entire public will chant your name. This pile wants public recognition and it will get exactly that but in even bigger numbers that they except to. 

[gigiwritess]

IN ORBIT

dr. jack abbott x f!resident!reader!vega aka "wildcard"

wc: 2,047 synopsis: ten weeks of dr. vega surviving in the pitt. eight weeks of dr. vega and dr. abbot stuck in each other's orbits. tl;dr: dr. abbot and dr. vega start to get close to each other.

contents: 20-year age gap (vega is 26, jack is 46). slight mention of vega's worsening mental health issues; description of back problems (which are entirely based on my own). usual pitt dynamics. probably lots of medical inaccuracies that im not gonna apologize for. this is totally self-inserted and vega is totally based in lots of aspects of myself. gonna probably update this list when i have more creativity.

gigi's notes: whats up guys!!!! i have absolutely no words to thank all the love you've given the first piece of this thing (because i'm not really sure what it is yet). i'm in a kinda deep depressive crisis at the moment (pretty much like the one vega's in) and when i wrote it i was trying to force myself to write in the hopes that i'd feel the same joy i used to feel (and i did!!!), so seeing how many people enjoyed this bit of myself really mattered to me. thank you. ALSO: THANK YOU FOR 500 FOLLOWERS!!!!! now, about the fanfic: vega isn't exactly an oc (at least i think so), but, like i mentioned before, she is entirely based in myself (including her mental & back problems, poor thing), so i understand if any of you don't really see her as reader and it's okay. i feel like i kinda repeated some stuff too much in this piece and i feel like there are lots of things that aren't that good or i could've written better, but i still liked the way it turned out, so my self-doubt and impostor syndrome can go fuck themselves. also, like i mentioned in the previous, i HATE slowburns and i had something totally different planned for this piece, but then i started writing and having ideas and it felt right to write a short one just about their interactions. i PROMISE that the next one will be less slow and have a lot more burning. also, i had no intention to do so but i ended up following a stellar pathway to this fanfic. which is really fitting considering myself as a person. university is still kicking my ass (when is it not?), but i'm gonna try to commit to write & post weekly (let's call it exposure therapy). this was reviewed once but it's possible to have typos; english isn't my first language. i'll probably remember other things to tell you later so i'll probably update these notes in the future. enjoy!!!! :))))

PLAYLIST | NAVIGATION | MASTERLIST

PREV | NEXT

Vega was day shift. Jack Abbot was night shift.

Yet, despite that slight difference, whenever she was working, he seemed to be too. Whenever she rounded a corner, he was there on the nurses’ station, charting or talking to someone, irritating Robby, or making Dana laugh without even trying. Whenever she worked a case, he seemed to linger around. Whenever he worked a case, she seemed to linger around, too. They were in each other’s way. And they weren’t avoiding being there.

Jack attributed that to an ever-growing lack of sleep. She happened to be on his mind more frequently than he wanted. Anything she did made him aware of her—aware of her face, aware of her voice, aware of her presence in the Pitt.

He didn’t see her often; she was always busy, always treating someone or charting or doing rounds or sometimes even triage. Jack didn’t talk much with her. Not that he talked that much with anyone else—but there was something about her. Something about her made noise feel irrelevant. She was quiet, but she wasn’t shut off, not in a cold way; guarded, as if she’d learned early not to give people easy access to anything she didn’t want touched. She was assertive, self-assured in her words and actions. She didn’t say much, but when she did, it cut clean. Still, he caught himself looking when she wasn’t more times than he expected, caught himself wondering how someone so quiet could take up that much space. Physically, in the Pitt, or in his mind.

Vega would catch herself searching for him in the Pitt way more often than she intended, almost as if there was a string tethering them to each other. She didn’t want to be aware of him, but she was. She was aware of him in the way one’s body reacts before the mind does—like a storm brewing just outside the window. He didn’t crowd her, didn’t flirt, didn’t even look too long. But he watched. And she noticed.

They seemed to be stuck in the same magnetic field, like two forces stuck in each other’s orbit, getting closer each time, both acutely aware of each other. Like Andromeda and the Milky Way—two beasts that would, eventually, collide.

She’d often brush past him at the nurses’ station. Stand just a tiny bit closer than she had to. Whenever they traded words, it was usually there—like the first time he threw her a compliment.

“You did good today,” he said, not looking up from his charting, his scrubs still stained with blood from a massive bleeding they dealt with together earlier.

She turned to him. “You sound surprised,” she replied, keeping her face neutral.

He put the chart down and looked at her, his eyes always tired but always steady.

“I’m not.”

Then he put the chart away and walked away, not saying another word. But those two words stayed with her longer than they should have.

From then on, working the same cases started to be more frequent; standing side by side, handing each other equipment and charts without even having to ask. They were learning to read each other’s silences, they were learning each other’s rhythms.

The next time she found herself noticing him, he looked like hell. She was on shift; he was working overtime. That much was clear by the way his shoulders were heavy, pen moving slowly across a chart, scrub top wrinkled and littered with dark stains—he wasn’t one to change scrubs often, just like her; they always had bigger concerns. He looked like he hadn’t slept in well over three days; his brows were carved in a deep line, the fluorescent lights cutting hard lines under his eyes. He wasn’t even supposed to be there.

She didn’t think, her body moving on its own accord. Just grabbed a fresh cup of coffee from the vending machine and, silent as a predator, set it down next to him with a soft thud, keeping her attention on her tablet.

Jack’s eyes flicked up, slow and heavy-lidded, but never without that sharp flame underneath. He glanced at the coffee and then, for a beat, he just looked at her.

“You trying to earn a gold star, kid?” He said, voice low, his mouth twisting into something lazy and rough.

Vega leaned an elbow on the counter, close—too close—, her sleeve brushing his. Her eyes met his.

“No,” she said, head tilting just enough to make it feel deliberate, her mouth just slightly tugging at the corner. “Just don’t want an old man dropping dead on my shift.”

He laughed—a real laugh, low, rough-edged, caught between surprised and something else, the kind of laugh that cracked through his exhaustion. He shook his head slowly, his eyes not leaving hers, something sharp and warm and unknown stuck between them.

She liked making him laugh.

His fingers wrapped around the warm cup, his fingers grazing hers—not by accident. Vega didn’t flinch.

“Careful,” he muttered, low enough for her to hear, “or people’ll notice you have a sense of humor.”

She smiled. Small, sharp. Just for him. A silent moment passed before she answered, her eyes analyzing his almost as if trying to decide if he was worth her time. Trying to recognize what it was that she saw in his eyes, the familiarity of it.

“See?” She said in a softer voice, the glint in her eye unmistakable, starting to push away from the counter. “You’re already imagining things. Drink it before it gets worse.”

Jack didn’t answer, just lifted the coffee toward her in a half-ass salute, finally sipping from it. It tasted better than he expected. He watched her walk away, his lips tugged upward in a tired smirk that lingered even after she disappeared down the hall, his eyes trailing after her.

Somewhere along the way of starting to work together, she’d learned how he drank his coffee. That warmed something inside of him.

There was something there, something he couldn’t quite name yet. It was quiet, simmering, growing—almost like a current humming just beneath the surface. Like a prickle slowly getting under his skin.

A few days turned into a few shifts, which turned into days, which turned into weeks. In a bit over two months since joining the Pitt, Vega had been working more with Abbot than with Robby—but she wasn’t complaining.

They still didn’t talk often, but it wasn’t only the strictly necessary, either. Sometimes he’d throw her a rare comment, always adding a “kid” at the end, and she would retort with something just as fitting, “old man” always on her tongue—it usually earned a laugh from him. They always ended up drifting back to each other’s orbit, standing almost too close, brushing fingers when handing each other things, finding their eyes already on the other, sharing a few loaded glances. Working side by side in sync, reading each other’s silences and minds.

There was something about the way he didn’t push, he didn’t demand more than she was willing to give, that spoke to her; that made her see him in a different light than she expected to. He was showing her that he wasn’t quite like she expected him to be. There was something between them—something unknown, something unspoken, and she hadn’t yet realized just how deep it was.

It was a week and a half after the coffee moment—in that meantime, he’d gotten her two coffees in return. He’d learned how she drank her coffee, too, without asking, and it touched something strange inside of her that she did her best to ignore. But it was there.

This time, she was the one working overtime. Her mind was full of too many dark things she didn’t have the strength to face at the moment, so she chose to keep working. That way, she kept busy; that way, she didn’t need to spend too much time alone with her thoughts.

Around eleven pm, the ER was finally calming down—not that anyone dared to say that out loud. After a massive car pileup, the voices finally started to give way to whispers and quietness, everyone disappearing into any rest they could get. Vega was finally able to take a deep breath. So was Jack—she’d barely seen him today.

His voice was suddenly by her side.

“You should sit down.”

She glanced up at him, brows furrowing. “What?”

He gestured toward the nearest chair.

“You’ve been on your feet all day,” he replied, putting a chart away and grabbing another before pointing at her back. “It’s not good for your back.”

Vega froze, completely paralyzed in what she was doing. Her water bottle was forgotten mid-air, watching his back as he walked away normally, as if he hadn’t left her with the most dumbfounded look she’d ever had, as if he’d said the most normal, trivial thing in the world.

But it wasn’t. It wasn’t the most normal, common-knowledge thing in the world, because she had never mentioned her back problems to anyone, not even Robby—let alone Jack. She was too used to keeping her problems by herself, dealing with everything on her own, unused to asking for help. And he’d noticed.

Her back was hurting.

She had good and bad days; sometimes, the pain would barely make itself known. Other times, no matter what she did—stretches, sleeping without any pillows, pills, having the best mattress possible—, it never left, like a pointy pebble stuck in one’s shoe. Sometimes it’d start in the early morning hours and only get worse throughout the day. Today was one of those days, where with each passing hour that she was on her feet, it only worsened. The only painkillers that, in fact, made the pain go away also made her sleepy, totally knocked her out (like the time the pain was so bad she had to take a Tramadol injection), or left her feeling in a dazed state. She couldn’t be in any of these situations at the moment, so she was stuck with it for a few more hours. She was already used to it by now, had gotten good at ignoring it.

Somehow, Jack had noticed. Somehow, Jack had read through the narrowed lines across her face, had read through the way she kept trying to shift her weight to hide the strain, had read through the pain she was trying to ignore, through the way she clenched her jaw and closed her eyes when the pain got too loud to ignore, when she thought no one was looking.

He hadn’t said it to make her flinch, hadn’t said it like an accusation, hadn’t said it to tease. He simply noticed.

And it unsettled Vega—because it meant he was paying attention. Not the kind of attention that grazed the surface, the way most people saw what they wanted to see. Not the kind of attention an attending gave a resident, not just assessing her professional skills. So, she did sit down. Because, somehow, Jack Abbot saw right through her, as if it were the easiest thing in the world. As if it were simple.

She wasn’t used to that.

She was the one who saw. She was who stayed, who stitched, literally and figuratively, people back together and asked for nothing in return.

She was who always put everyone’s needs above her own—

She was who had spent her whole damn life making sure no one ever noticed the cracks—

She was who gave and gave and gave until she almost forgot she had anything left to want—

He just wanted her to sit. To take care of herself.

It hit her sideways, knocking her off balance, making her forget how to breathe. It slipped under her skin before she could stop it, sharp and tender all at once, settling somewhere deep in her chest. Like a bruise she had never realized was there until he touched it without meaning to, the part of her that still wanted—desperately, stupidly—to be seen.

The part of her that wanted it to be her turn. That still wanted to be known, to be chosen, to be kept.

And Jack—

Jack looked at her like he already had.

And it scared the living shit out of her.

gigi's notes: PLS tell me what you guys think, im sooooo looking forward to see your reactions!!! <3 i also started working on a different jack fanfic based on a request of a love triangle, so heads up for a future jack x reader x langdon (but here dilf supremacy always wins so don't worry folks) hehe AND i've been thinking... what do we think of a jack x firefighter!reader? 👀 i'm gonna take the big ass test for joining my state's military firefighters (i probably won't be approved bc i haven't studied at all but i would truly like to be approved [even though i'm graduating in archaeology lol]) so i kept thinking what it'd be like of jack in a relationship with a firefighter so i might write it anyway lol also, can you see how much i need therapy for my people-pleaser issues? im trying ok i took the liberty of tagging below the lovely people who said such nice things about the fanfic and commented and reblogged. if you'd like to be tagged in the future, please let me know! @cosmoscoffeee @mackycat11 @sunfairyy @starkgaryan @amandarobertsboyce @starlight-starbright-8080 @patatesliomlet @saynotononsense @sweetestcowboy @diaryofafeelsaddict

[sparklystarrrr]

Just saw your RiddlexKing of Hearts Reader. It’s so adorable and I love seeing Riddle be smothered in affection. But I had an idea… (this is post overblot) Riddle leaves for a minute and our sweet lil reader turns to the group and says that she knows about the overblot. She knows about all the chaos SOME of the freshman *cough Adeuce cough* cause, and she knows how stressed Riddle can get. Then, with a warm smile on her face, she threatens to come back and take care of the guys if anything close to the overblot happens again. She may not be able to do anything about Riddle’s mother (yet) but her family has enough status and power to help take care of some misbehaving boys. When Riddle returns he’s confused why all of his dorm seems on edge but his lovely fiancé is just smiling and compliments the sweets served at the party. Maybe she even says they should think about having Trey bake their wedding cake.

Sorry, went off a bit there. You don’t have to write it but the idea was just stuck in my head. I just really love when the sunshine character can be all scary and intimidating with a smile.

THATS MY FAV TROPE EVERRRRR

Queen of My Heart Pt. 2

Synopsis: Sunshine can turn into a storm very quick…

Contains: Riddle R. x Fem! King of Hearts! Reader, continuation of pt.1, kinda short sorry!

The Unbirthday party was going swimmingly. Everyone was full of joy and laughter, there was no Tyrant ordering people around, the food was delicious, and the air was shining and light. "Dear, I'm heading to the restroom for just a moment. I'll be right back." Riddle said to (y/n) who sat prettily in her King's chair. "Of course darling, be quick!" she spoke with a warm voice like the sweet honey Riddle enjoyed putting in his tea. He then pressed a small kiss upon her forehead and made his way inside the dorm house.

Little did the students of Heartslabyul know, their sweet and kind (y/n)’s attitude would sour the second her red-headed fiancé was out of her sight. Once Riddle was completely hidden from view, her aura darkened. It was like a pitch black storm cloud completely blocked out the sun in just seconds. Her warm smile became strained and her posture tightened. She gripped the end of her pleated skirt,”So boys, I got many letters from Riddle these past few weeks...” Trey, Cater and the Adeuce duo turned to her at the sound of her voice. They felt uneasy. Before they could ask if she was alright, she continued.”Care to tell me why and how Riddle Overblotted..?”

Suddenly and without any warning, the girl became dark and ominous. The air was heavy; pressing down on every single Heartslabyul boy. "U-uh, Miss (y/n), it really was an accident-" "No yeah uh, we totally didn't piss him off at all..." "Bro why would you expose us like that??" "He's perfectly fine now (n/n) and I think that's all that matters... I hope." The four boys sat at the same table as her stammered endlessly. As much as they tried to figure out a way to excuse themselves, (y/n) came back harder and stronger making them shrink back in fear.

"Oh, you don't need to make up excuses... I know everything..." She said in an eerie whisper while snapping her head to the first year boys who were sweating their butts off in fear and practically shaking under her piercing (e/c) gaze. Her chaste smile was nothing but terrifying. They'd never seen a woman flip the switch on her warm and soft demeanor while still smiling happily. The whole yard of boys went silent. "You all truly have nothing else to say? My my..." She trailed in her sweet voice. "You do this again... and it'll be off with your head on my accord, got it?"

The boys nearly fainted. Every single one of them hurried out of their chairs and made it a point to bow in deep fear. "Y-yes Ma'am!" She laughed bitterly. "Very good, let the party resume!" She clapped. Suddenly, that gummy smile was plastered back onto her face while she cut herself a few slices of various cakes and tarts and other desserts. The students nodded hastily and wearily went back to eating and conversing.

(y/n)'s eyes sparkled as her red haired fiance made his way back to the party. He felt the strained feelings in the air and looked around at his fearful students who were much quieter than before. As he walked closer to his designated table with his five favorite people, he saw that his sweet little angel (y/n) was sitting and eating desserts with an adorable smile on her pink lips. Around her? Terrified Adeuce and a scarred Trey and Cater.

He sat down next to his fiance hesitantly and she began going on her sweet little rants"Oh Riddle dear, Trey really did make the desserts so well! I remember you took me to his bakery for our anniversaries, we should totally have him make our wedding cake shouldn't we?" They girl spoke happily while chomping down another bite of the creamy cheesecake.

He smiled at her, then hesitated to speak,"Absolutely my dear, but I have a question... Why are the students in shell shock..? Did something happen whilst I was away?" Riddle questioned in deep concern. "Nothing happened! I just had a quick chit chat with them. Right boys?" She looked at the four boys next to them. They quickly muttered "yes" and "yeah"s under their breath and looking down at the food in their plates.

Riddle sighed then let out an airy chuckle. He gently brought the young lady's delicate hand to his lips and pressed a kiss on it, trying to calm her nerves. The boy found it easy to read his fiance. Knowing that she'd scared all of Heartslabyul into having nightmares of her tonight? It's safe to say he was a proud future husband.

[det2x-fanfic-dump]

THE BOAT TRADITION

Disclaimer: I haven't read the actual and full Eternal Float story because I'm going to wait for the official EN translation to have that self experience reading so if some of the story is similar, it is a coincidence in my part. I saw the event's TWSTunes that they're on a boat and I felt inspired :3

Tags: Gen fic|| Female Yuu || It's funny, TRUST!

That night when everyone stood at the port for the boat ride, Jade told them an interesting tradition that locals do for couples.

"The mermaid princess and her prince shared a lovely boat ride just like this as their date. They said their romance blooms not because of the lovely music and the atmosphere but rather it's because of the benevolent sea witch and what her two moray eels has done by tilting the boat making them fall in the water."

Jade explained and the others stared what he just said.

"So from that, we made a tradition to turn over the boat during a boat ride to signify a lasting relationship between two people, whether it's romantic or platonic."

"Marvelous! Two lovers falling each other like they fell in water is simply beautiful." Rook commented happily, a tear in his eye.

"What an intriguing tradition." Malleus said calmly with a smile. He looked at Yuu, intrigued. "Prefect, would you join me in this falling into water tradition?"

"Huh? Me?" Yuu blinked, thinking why he asked her specifically. It's not like Malleus is her boyfriend or anything.

"Oh Prefect, after Roi des dragons, can you give me the honor of falling with you in water as well?" Rook chimed in her thoughts.

"I don't see the reason why turning over the boat and fall is considered improving relationships." Riddle commented with a sigh.

"Yeah! Who would like getting wet when you don't wanna?" Grim agreed with Riddle.

"I guess...thinking about it, falling in the water together is kinda funny." Yuu said unsure of their words making Riddle and Grim glare but before Yuu would react, Malleus gently pulled her to ride the boat first.

It's just the two of them sitting together in the boat. They locked gaze for a moment before Malleus turned to Jade with excitement in his eyes but Jade is already waving his hands to the soft beat of the music.

"You just have to look at each other's eyes, relax and wait for the boat to turn you over by our merfolk friends." Jade said humming. "Prefect, I would also like to take a turn falling in water with you, if that's okay, I also want to make our friendship last longer than you and Floyd."

"Ha?"

"Yuu..." Malleus called, voice a bit stern. She stared, looking at Malleus's sharp green eyes. Her heart is pounding, such intimacy and suspense...it's like musical chairs, no one knows when will they drop and there's also the fact she would have to do this again later.

"Is it even okay for a prince to be thrown off to water?" Yuu asked suddenly because heaven forbids if Sebek knew...it would be an earful.

"Of course, while travelling, we must take every opportunity to fully experience such local traditions of different places--"

SPLASH!

It was mere seconds and the boat fall over followed by Malleus' charming laughter that implied that he did enjoyed the experience. Luckily, the merfolk that tilted the boat came to their aid and now Yuu sits at the boat soaking wet waiting for Rook's turn.

"The music is so wonderful isn't it?" Rook said humming along the beat.

Second time, Yuu found themselves with Rook who was sitting crossed-legged and elegant. Yuu squinted, a bit envious seeing the man all dry and warm while they are stuck soaking wet and withholding in the cold.

Yuu watched Rook sway as he hummed, he was radiating with zen energy that made her forget she was even cold.

"Don't worry, prefect, I shall serenade you a lovely tune to warm your heart--"

SPLASH

Rook tried but as soon as he began to even hit a note, the boat turned over.

Third time, It's Jade's turn and Yuu was shivering, her hands holding both ends of the canoe. She was staring at Jade like deer on headlights, staring at his gentlemanly smile as they wait for the boat to turn over.

"My, my prefect...you're shaking like a fish on dry land--"

"JUST TURN IT OVER" Yuu suddenly burst. She just wanted it to be done and have that peaceful boat ride with everyone but Jade wiggled his finger saying no--

SPLASH!

Fourth time, Yuu sat again at her seat in the canoe. Finally it's done as she squeezed out the water of her dress and hair.

"Riddle, won't you take a turn as well?" Jade suggested and Yuu froze, curious what the Heartslabyul housewarden would say.

"No, I think Yuu has been through enough. One more fall and she might get a cold the next day." Riddle said frankly, folding his arms.

"So you don't want to make a lasting relationship with her?" Jade teased a little.

"Caring for her health is more important than some tradition."

But Yuu turned her gaze at him, pointing at Riddle. "Riddle, Get over here and fall with me!" She shouted but immediately flinched, realizing she just burst the invitation. "Please..."

It was in the heat of the moment but Yuu thinks it's unfair if Riddle was the only one that isn't soaking wet. She would see Riddle's face suddenly turned pale.

"You have to do as the lady wants, Roi des roses!" Rook encouraged making Riddle grumbled.

"Fine, I guess it's unfair that I'll be the only one dry after all this." Riddle pouted making his way over slowly and hesitantly. He was sitting at the boat across. "But Grim should join in too!"

"MRAH NO WAY!"

SPLASH! The boat turned over before Riddle can argue back.

Fifth time, Yuu is holding Grim ever so tightly. The boys watched their prefect and her monster cat struggled and resisting each other.

"This hadn't occured to me until now but will Grim be okay being in water?" Malleus asked worriedly but the prefect is too distracted to even answer

"Even if it's a mountain of tuna, you can't make me, human! "Grim threatened but Yuu ignored.

"DO IT!"

SPLASH! The boat turned over the fifth time, when the prefect and Grim emerged from the surface. Grim's fiery ears are extinguished for a second and it comes back again after a little body shake.

"Let's do one more turn over. " she suggested and the boys perked.

This falling into water has become a thrill for the prefect and she's sitting back on her seat now with Grim sitting on her lap. She was smiling at the boys waiting for them to join her. There's no way she would let them fall once when she fell at least five times now.

[artdonalldson]

On and Off Court

Art Donaldson x Reader

CONTENT: Stanford!Art, No use of pronouns, no detailed physical descriptions except reader has hair, a bit of angst with a happy ending, mild language, possibly inaccurate college stuff, a little Patrick/Tashi name drops for fun, vague references to feelings of being left out, lots of banter and soft moments on and off the court, slow-burn friends to lovers.

SUMMARY: Art Donaldson needs help with English. You need help not totally sucking at tennis. What starts as a simple exchange slowly turns into late practices, quiet moments, and the kind of connection neither of you planned for.

WORD COUNT: ~2600

A/N: Sooooo, in honor of Challengers anniversary, I'm posting my very first Challengers fic! Kinda based on this post I made a while ago. Sorry if this sucks, English is not my first language and idk a lot about college stuff in America and I'm not totally sure my research was good so yeah lol. Anyway, I'm so excited to finally share this with you all, I hope you like it as much as I do 🥺

Art Donaldson is fifteen minutes late.

Again.

You're not surprised, honestly. He'll come in and say he was stuck with practice or some silly excuse, but anyway, it was you who offered to give him the tutoring.

You’ve already arranged the chairs in your favorite study room at the library, highlighted key points from the essay rubric, and opened the annotated Frankenstein you forced him to borrow last week. The empty chair beside you, however, remains insultingly empty.

You don’t even hear him walk in as you scroll on your phone to kill time — just feel the gust of air when the door swings open and the telltale thunk of a duffle bag hitting the floor.

"Before you say anything," he says, holding up a peace offering in the form of an iced drink, "I got stuck in the traffic trying to get these” he gestures to the drinks. “I was behind a marching band. Like a literal one. Who has a parade on a Tuesday?"

You raise an eyebrow. “Oh, how convenient. And so tragic.” you say as you roll your eyes playfully for dramatic effect.

You can hear him let out a soft chuckle as he sets the drink down in front of you with a grin, then slouches into the chair beside yours, sipping on his own drink. "You know, some people would appreciate a little sympathy.”

“Some people would appreciate a fine essay ,” you say, flipping to the page where he last gave up. “Let’s start with that.”

Tutoring with Art started as a joke. A few sarcastic comments during a group study session, one muttered “you write like shit”, and suddenly he was texting you for “just a quick look” at his paper.

Now, it's a standing trade: English help in exchange for weekly tennis lessons. You’re still terrible, but you like how he laughs when you mess up. You like that he never makes you feel dumb — not when you forget which way to hold the racket, not even when you suggest Victor Frankenstein just needed better boundaries.

You also like the way he listens. Really listens. Like your analysis actually matters. Like you matter.

Dangerous territory.

---

Two days later, you’re on the campus courts, winded and mildly sweaty, pointing your racket at him like a sword.

“You’re literally sabotaging me.”

Art wipes his forehead with the edge of his sleeve. “You keep hitting the ball into the net”

“It was a metaphor.”

“It was a lawsuit waiting to happen.”

You narrow your eyes. “I’ve decided you’re a bad coach.”

He smirks. “I’ve decided you’re a menace.”

You’re still smiling when you both collapse on the bench, passing a water bottle back and forth like a peace treaty.

Art leans back, eyes squinting up at the dusk sky. “Pat showed up today.”

You glance over at him. “Zweig?”

“Yeah.” His jaw tightens a little. “Didn’t even text. Just waltzed in like he owns the fuckin’ court. Said he was here to ‘check on the vibes.’”

You hide a smile. “Oh, so Tashi then”

Art groans. “Obviously. He always says he’s here to say hi, but he’s just looking for her. I swear, the guy only remembers I exist when I’ve got an extra churro.”

Of course he told you about Patrick, he told you all about him, about the MRTA and the Junior's US Open, and of course he told you about Tashi Duncan and the whole hotel room thing.

He also mentioned the way their friendship changed after Patrick won her number. For some reason he felt comfortable venting with you.

You nudge him with your shoulder. “Must be hard. Being the most dramatic tennis player on campus.”

He laughs — a full, head-thrown-back kind of laugh — and for a moment, the silence between you feels different. Charged.

You look away first.

He doesn't.

Eyes lingering on you a little longer than they should.

You pretend you didn't notice.

Then, he finally looks away.

---

Later, he walks you back to your dorm. Your hands brush once, and neither of you pull away. Just a few meters from your door, you stop, your voice low.

“Hey,” you say, “you actually wrote a good paragraph today.”

Art rubs the back of his neck. “You make it easier. I don’t know. The way you explain things — it’s like I can finally see what it’s supposed to be.”

You swallow. “Yeah. That’s how it feels when you talk about tennis.”

He’s quiet. Just looking at you in that way he does sometimes — like you’re a puzzle he wants to figure out slowly.

And then: “Another round next week, right?”

You smile. “On the court or on the page?”

“Both,” he says. Then adds, a little softer, “If you’ll still have me.”

You nod.

And when he walks away, you find yourself already counting the days until you see his charming smile again.

---

You’re terrible at tennis.

You know this. Art knows this. The entire Stanford tennis team probably knows this too.

But somehow, every Thursday afternoon, you still show up for the lessons.

And somehow, every Thursday afternoon, Art still smiles when he sees you.

Today, he’s already at the court when you arrive, bouncing a ball off his racket with absent precision. His baseball cap backwards and his red Stanford t-shirt on, a white turtleneck underneath, a sighs you're already used to.

There's a duffle bag tossed unceremoniously on the nearest bench, a textbook sticking out the side like it’s fighting for its life.

You drop your own bag next to his, contemplating the scene for a moment. “Did the literature monster get you again?”

He shakes his head, tossing the ball high and catching it without looking. “Nah. Passed my midterm, thanks to you.” He pauses, almost sheepish. “Actually did pretty decent.”

You give a dramatic gasp. “Was that a compliment? To me?”

Art chuckles. “Don’t let it get to your head.”

You step onto the court, adjusting your grip the way he showed you. He's watching you — not your racket, not your stance. You.

"Alright, coach," you tease. "Lay it on me."

He tosses you a ball. “Today we’re working on not sending projectiles into outer space”

You swat it immediately into the net.

“Solid start,” he deadpans.

---

About an hour later, you’re both collapsed on the bench, sweaty and laughing and sipping from the same battered water bottle, it feels almost like a ritual at this point.

His baseball cap is somewhere on the floor, golden curls sticking to his forehead with sweat, cheeks flushed, and you know he looks gorgeous like that — not that you'd admit it to him, though.

The sun’s starting to sink and painting the court in gold as Art leans back, wrist draped over his eyes. "God. I needed this."

You nudge him with your knee. "Tough week?"

He doesn’t answer right away. Just exhales, slow and heavy.

"Patrick and Tashi," he says finally. “It’s like... they're living on their own planet now. I really feel left out everytime I try to get close to them.”

You wait, giving him space to unravel it at his own pace.

"Zweig was supposed to hit the court with me this morning. Blew me off. Guess where he was?"

You hum. "Stuck at Tashi's dorm again?"

Art snorts. “Exactly. And Tash... well, she’s the star of the tennis team, the freaking Duncanator as they call her” he pauses, “I don't know how they are still together… I don't think she’s ever needed anyone, you know? Not the way I..."

He cuts himself off, frowning at the pavement.

You tilt your head. "Not the way you need people?"

He shrugs, a small, defeated motion. "Maybe."

For a second, you see it: past the big smiles and easy charm, the part of Art that wants to be chosen. That maybe he's tired of competing for scraps of their attention. That maybe, deep down, just wants someone to love him like he loves, to need him like he needs.

You set your racket down, careful, deliberate.

Then softly, the words come out of your lips "You have me." You're not even sure you said it out loud, but it felt like the right thing to say at the moment.

It feels too small, too simple. But when he turns his head to look at you, there’s something raw in his eyes. Something that says it matters anyway.

Art bumps your knee with his. "Yeah," he says. "And I'm lucky to have you"

---

Later that night, you're in your dorm, half-asleep studying for some upcoming exam, and maybe a little distracted thinking of that conversation with Art earlier.

I'm lucky to have you.

These little words are on repeat in your head till the train of thoughts is interrupted by the notification sound of your phone.

> Art Donaldson:

u free tmw? gym’s boring without u embarrassing urself

> You:

shocking u’d miss my tennis disasters

what’s in it for me?

> Art:

loser buys smoothies

deal?

> You:

deal.

You set your phone down, heart stupidly loud in your ears, louder than the thwack of the tennis ball against your racket.

Maybe he’s not gravitating to their planet anymore.

Maybe — just maybe — he’s starting to orbit yours.

---

You’re getting better at tennis.

Not good — no one would dare to say that — but definitely better.

You've managed to serve without launching the ball into the next county, you can rally for at least three strokes, and once — once — you even won a point against Art.

He teased you for a week straight.

But now, under the heavy, humid press of early May, the courts are quieter. Finals loom, summer plans scatter your friends to internships and hometowns. And still, you and Art keep meeting here, as if you made a promise neither of you ever said out loud.

Tonight, the campus feels half-asleep.

The lamps around the court buzz.

The sky is deep blue velvet.

You're hitting lazy shots back and forth when Art suddenly jogs toward the net, balancing the ball on his racket.

"Alright, literary genius," he says, smirking. "End of semester final challenge."

You raise an eyebrow. "Oh?"

This sounds interesting, typical of Art.

He spins the racket around like he'd holding a lightsaber in his hand. "If you get three volleys past me — three — I'll buy you dinner."

You squint. "And if I don't?"

He leans forward, resting his arms casually on the net.

"I still buy you dinner," he says, a little too easily.

You laugh, heart stuttering. “That’s rigged.”

"Maybe I want it to be," he says, almost under his breath.

You pretend not to feel the way your stomach flips. You take the challenge anyway. You lose — gloriously. By the end of it, you’re breathless, doubled over, laughing so hard you can’t stand straight.

Art catches the ball in one hand and tosses it aside.

"You," he says, grinning, "are the best worst tennis player I’ve ever seen."

You salute him with your racket. " Think I’ll put that on my resume."

---

Later on, dinner turns into ice cream. Ice cream turns into sitting on the edge of the bed of his dorm, passing a pint back and forth.

Art is quiet for a while, staring out over the quad where the old ceiling fan is on, an attempt to keep the room fresh.

"Remember when we started this?" he says suddenly.

You lick the edge of the spoon, thinking. "You mean when you almost failed English and decided it was my problem?"

He laughs, but there’s something softer under it.

"I was... kinda a mess," he admits. "Still am, sometimes."

You nudge his shoulder. "Nobody's perfect"

He’s silent again, fiddling with a crumpled napkin. You watch him, the way the light turns the ends of his messy curls shine like gold.

Then he says, very quietly:

"Sometimes it felt like... everybody else was already paired off, you know? Patrick and Tashi, the team guys, even random people in classes. Like everyone had their person. And I was just... floating around."

You swallow.

"You're not floating around anymore," you say.

He finally looks at you — really looks at you — and there it is. All of it. The thing you’ve been pretending not to see for weeks, months. The reason your heart feels like it’s racing even when you’re standing still.

You don't move. You hardly breathe.

"Yeah," he says, voice rough. "I’m not."

Slow, careful, he leans in.

You could stop him. You could joke. You could pretend you don't feel this like lightning burning under your skin.

But you don’t stop him.

You don't even try.

You tilt your chin up and meet him halfway.

The kiss is gentle at first, — shy, tentative, like a question.

When you don't pull away, Art sighs against your mouth like he's been holding his breath for a year.

He tastes like vanilla and salt, and something sweeter on his tongue that you can't name.

His hand finds your cheek, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw like he needs to memorize you.

And it feels like a thousand fireworks are going off inside you, like this moment was truly meant to be, and now that is happening, it feels surreal.

When you finally pull apart, you're forehead to forehead, both of you smiling like idiots, he whispers:

"You’re my person."

You squeeze his hand.

"You always were."

---

It’s been five days since the kiss.

Not that you’re counting.

(You are. You’re absolutely counting.)

Five days, two tennis practices, one english tutoring, a very intense smoothie debate, and exactly fourteen texts where Art somehow found excuses to send you memes at two in the morning.

Now you’re back on the court, empty and golden in the late afternoon, pretending to practice your serve.

You toss the ball. Miss.

You toss again. Miss worse.

"You’re overthinking," Art calls, lounging against the net while adjusting his baseball cap.

You glare at him. "Maybe I’m just allergic to serve"

He pushes off the net and hops over the net, not even bothering to walk around, that familiar easy grin tugging at his mouth.

"You're not allergic," he says. "You're just tense."

He steps close enough that you have to look him in the eye.

Close enough that you can smell the faint, sun-warmed scent of his hoodie.

"Let me show you," he says.

Before you can protest, he’s stepping behind you, hands light on your waist, guiding your stance. His voice is low, soft against your ear.

"Relax your shoulders," he murmurs.

"Don’t force it. Just... trust it."

You could argue. You could snark.

But instead, you just breathe.

You toss the ball up in the air — and this time, when you swing, it sails cleanly over the net.

A small, surprised laugh bursts out of you. You turn, grinning.

Art's face is pure pride — and something warmer, something softer.

"Told ya," he says.

You don't think about it. You just reach out, grabbing the front of his hoodie and pulling him in for a kiss.

It’s clumsy and fast and perfect.

When you break apart, he leans his forehead against yours, chuckling.

"You’re dangerous when you win," he says.

You grin. "Guess you’ll have to keep coaching me. Forever."

He brushes a strand of hair from your cheek, serious now. "Deal."

And for the first time — maybe ever — you believe him.

Not just for this semester.

Not just for Stanford.

For everything that comes next.

THE END

[enbysiriusblack]

based on this post by @in-flvx

It was a common area of gossip for the girls. Lily had heard it a million times, always the same complaints or said through bouts of giggles whenever the two boys acted in a less than platonic manner.

Everytime a girl would come back from a date with one of them, it was always the first sentence said when she returned to her friends, always the same annoyed face and the same exact words.

'Who brings their friend on a date?'

So as Lily made her way down the stairs and reached the door where they planned to meet, she startled slightly to see only James there, with Sirius nowhere to be found.

"Hey", James locked eyes with her, "You look gorgeous, ready to go?"

Lily glanced around slightly, wondering where exactly Sirius was, "Oh, sure."

James grinned, nervously palming his hand through his hair as they began the walk down to Hogsmeade.

Lily glanced back to the castle and couldn't help but ask.

She turned to James, "Did Sirius go down early?"

"No, he's back at the castle."

"Oh, he's coming later?"

"No."

Lily frowned in confusion, looking back up to the castle again. Surely Sirius would be joining them, or at least have some valid reason for not being able to make it.

"Did he get stuck in detention?"

James looked at her weirdly before slowly shaking his head, "Um, no."

"... Is he ill?"

"What? No", James stuffed his hands in his pocket, feeling a bit jealous all of a sudden, "Why do you keep asking about Sirius?"

"I just thought-" She began before shaking her head, "It's fine. Don't worry about it. Let's just enjoy our date."

James smiled waringly, and the conversation began to ease into a variety of topics from muggle sports to an essay due next week to embarrasing stories of them as kids. It was only their food at Puddifoot's was served that the topic of Sirius came up again.

"Oh Merlin", Bertha Jorkins appeared at their table, seeming to be the only one in the cafe that had gone there when not on a date, "Where's Sirius Black?"

"What?" James narrowed his eyes at her.

Lily tried to smile politely at Bertha, "It's just us today."

"We're on a date so can you leave", James folded his arms, leaning back in his seat.

"Don't be rude", Lily bit her smile back before turning to Bertha again, "Though if you wouldn't mind-"

"Oh sure, sorry", Bertha smiled, not making a move to leave, "Is Black ill or something, though?"

"He's fine", James huffed, "We're on a date so were hoping to be left alone", he looked pointedly at Bertha.

Bertha gasped, shocked, "Merlin, you went on a date alone."

She left the cafe quickly, likely to tell as many people as she could.

"What was that?" James murmured.

"Well, it's sort of a common area of talk, about how you and Sirius are always together, even when one of you is on a date."

"What?"

Lily shrugged, "It's why I was asking about him earlier, when we planned the date, I assumed Sirius would be a part of it."

"You... wanted that?"

Lily bit her lip in thought before replying, "Kinda. Well, I sort of thought you and Sirius were already... a thing. You two are always together, you share everything. You're a package deal, so I thought that meant you'd be a package deal in dating too."

"Oh."

"But I'm completely fine if it's not like that between you two? If our relationship will be just us then I'm perfectly happy with that."

"But... you'd be open to me and Sirius? You'd actually want him with us places?"

"Yes, but if you don't want that then-"

"I could date you without being seperated from Sirius?"

Lily huffed a laugh, "Of course."

James glanced at her in awe for a moment before pulling out a mirror.

"You're checking how you look now?" Lily frowned, leaning over the table.

"Sirius Black", James spoke into it to Lily's bewilderment.

Lily leaned further over the table, staring at the table, as Sirius' face suddenly replaced James' own.

"Lily already ditched you, did she?"

Lily tilted the mirror in James' hands towards her, "Actually we're having a wonderful time. But how on earth do these telephone picture mirrors work?"

"Magic, Evans", Sirius shrugged.

"Telephone picture mirrors?" James parroted back in question, "Anyway, what are you up to, Mate?"

Sirius furrowed his brows, but answered after a moment, "Just hanging out with Pete and Remus, they're playing chess and I'm meant to play the winner."

"So Peter", James nodded, "Well, how do you feel about ditching that and coming down here?"

Sirius frowned, "What, to sit in the three broomsticks, chat to Rosmerta, and try to shake off all the girls wanting a date or quick snog?"

"No, hang out with us!" Lily leaned over to the mirror again.

Sirius blinked, "What?"

"Come down and join us", James grinned.

"You're on a date."

"Since when has that stopped us from being together?"

Sirius glanced up to where Lily's face was hovering before looking back at James with a small frown, "I know that but, it's Lily."

"What, I'm different to the other girls you two have dated?"

The two boys looked at her as if she had said something incredibly stupid.

James coughed, looking back to the mirror, "Look, Lily thought you were coming on the date."

"Oh?" Sirius smirked, slightly.

Lily glared at him, "You and James are supposed to be a package deal, are you not?"

"I guess", he shrugged.

"Well, I want the whole package so get your arse down here, please."

"You heard her", James had a wide smile on his face.

"I'm on my way", Sirius' face blurred slightly as he got up, "Are you in Puddifoots? I know you two are disgustingly romantic but I'm not sure I can handle sitting in a place like that."

"We'll be finished by the time you get here and we could go for a walk or something, it's quite nice out."

"Sounds good."

James pocketed the mirror and turned to Lily.

"I feel like every dream I've had has just come true."

Lily laughed, "Oh, you've just become a pro quidditch player have you?"

James grinned, "Well, okay. The dreams that matter the most."

[luciaintheskyainthi]

Despite having Spideyhood on main, I'm an equal opportunity shipper and @awhoreintheory and I have discussed Spider-Man x Nightwing and this is what I wanna see so if someone could write this for me cause I'd be very happy but bbygurl I DO NOT have time for it 😭😭😭 do y'all know how much brain space ECM takes up? It's like, a good 70% and the rest is work, gardening and cats.

So, Spider-Man and Nightwing have a rivalry. They (mistakenly or not) think the other is a jackass. Spider-man thinks Nightwing has a stick up his ass; Nightwing thinks Spider-Man doesn't take anything seriously. They're also acrobatic heroes, like that's kinda their Thing™️ so that also feeds into the antagonism. So on the odd occasion they work together (and they can both respect the other's got game, fyi, but that doesn't mean they have to like the guy, okay Jason/Tim/MJ/Matt?), they're constantly trying to one up the other. It's a battle of wills and they have the emotional fortitude of a pair of brick walls but with snark.

(There are other compounding features here, like Peter clocking Nightwing as a rich boy; Nightwing being wary of some of Spider-Man's associations [Black Cat, Deadpool etc]; Dick thinking Spider-Man is kinda unreliable; Peter thinking Nightwing's a bit of a ho [false but he made the mistake of taking the rumours seriously] etc etc.)

Anyway, so these two numbnuts don't like each other and they try - they genuinely try - to put on a professional front about it but their dislike for the other is about as opaque as a glass wall and everyone know it. It's something of an in joke between the Avengers (of whom Peter's only the occasional member of) and the Justice League (or maybe it's the Titans or the Outsiders IDK). And yes they can both acknowledge that it's a petty dislike, but that doesn't mean either of them are interested in changing their minds. BUT BUT BUT what do we do with two numbnut idiots who don't like each other?

The crowd, probably: we make them work together?

⭐That's right pookie, we make 'em work together. Like, really work together. Like, these two idiots are made to work closely. Intensely together. Close quarters style, shared mission, long term. Maybe they're 'volunteered', maybe they're press-ganged, maybe they're just straight up abducted and thrown together (alien abduction anyone?). Either way, they're stuck working together. And they bitch and moan about it (privately or otherwise) but dang it they can be professionals, they can put their big girl panties on and suck it up.

So they do. They're mean and they're snarky only before too long actually their mean is kinda funny, and actually I can trust this guy to have my back, and actually he's not so much the silver spoon daddy's boy, and actually and actually----

(also somewhere along the lines they start thirsting for each other. Carnally. Except they're both emotionally stunted dumbasses so they just chalk this up to misplaced aggression and dislike.)

And then the mission's over and they go their separate ways. Great! they think. Finally some peace and I can go and do my own thing again! Except, WRONG. Because now they're fucking -- yearning. They're thinking about the times the other made them laugh. They're swivelling around like a meerkat at the mere mention of the other guy's name. They're---

You get it? What I want from these two is the 'frenemies' to lovers trope. Antagonistic and snarky and competitive bullshit artists falling for the other so subtly they don't even realise the trap they've fallen into until the next time they lay eyes on each other and then-- BAM heart eyes, rose-tinted glasses, holy shit I want this man in my life and my bed for the next forever---

(And if in this moment Matt could be there to hear the simultaneous swoops of their hearts and souls aligning, that'd be great, please and thank you.)

...

*coughs* ahem. So. Yes. I'm a multi-shipper but am only a wee babby. Had I the time maybe I'd write this. But I think the muse would bitch slap me so hard I'd ascend to another plan of existence if I came to her with this idea, so.... ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

My one goal in getting tumblr and posting stuff on tumblr was to try and make the ship between Spider-man and Nightwing more popular as popular as the ship between Red Hood and Spider-Man but also the ship between Tim drake and Peter Parker. Well technically I had two goal with the other being to make people start writing more Peter in Gotham fanfics using comic book Spider-Man. I really just started this thing on tumblr to get people to write stories and make fanart of stuff I like because I suck at it.

[mac-lilly]

Sometimes, I just cannot tell if an author is aware that rampant jealousy, possessiveness, and an uncontrollable libido are not signs of love ... or not.

[pigtailedgirl]

Bitch, are you trying to make me cry? Are you trying to make me lose it? You win some and lose some, and this could get gruesome.

[laddertek]

I got into tangtho so quickly after being obsessed with decked out 2 and finding your blog was a godsend 🙏 thank you for all your work

aaaa thank you this makes me happy!! I'm so glad you're enjoying them too :D ty for dropping this ask 🤗 DO2 is such a golden age we're living in right now fr <3

[wolves-in-the-world]

yes I'm rewatching red widow. yes it's still largely terrible. I'm having a whale of a time.

[astrahannah]

A ship so rare the biggest collection of fanfic for it is in my Google docs:(

[morningmask27]

god, one mild problem of asking friends who don't draw a lot for criticism is that They Don't See Shit. I'm obviously going to be Extra Critical of my own art and that's why I ask for their advise, but they just tell me it's pretty without warning me that one arm had a very fucked up anatomy or the chair I had straight up forgotten to draw for a good while.

I told them the thing was done (I meant a fucking table I had procrastinated to draw for eons and was a blue sketch in all those wip updates) while all the characters were still just colored sketches and the chair was missing and they just didn't see it; they rolled with the drawing as is.

They're wonderful people, but they are definitely not the people to go to for actual art advise and it's a bit annoying tbh

[grenade-maid]

well. 5 Centimeters per Second still makes me cry my eyes out.

[ruvviks]

anyone else with tinnitus feel more disconnected from reality since getting it / it getting worse or is that just me

[the-search-continues]

No I didn't find the Melleona blog - I just saw your reblog/clue/thing and thought that was probably what you were alluding to

It probably was because I had planned to actually set up the blog but unfortunately never got to it.

I'm sorry to disappoint though <:(