#so many lighting and transparency experiments in this one

[echo-bleu]

Voleuse d'étoile - Star Thief

Inprnt | Commissions

[alfheimr]

My Favorite Cheap Art Trick: Gradient Maps and Blending Modes

i get questions on occasion regarding my coloring process, so i thought i would do a bit of a write up on my "secret technique." i don't think it really is that much of a secret, but i hope it can be helpful to someone. to that end:

this is one of my favorite tags ive ever gotten on my art. i think of it often. the pieces in question are all monochrome - sort of.

the left version is the final version, the right version is technically the original. in the final version, to me, the blues are pretty stark, while the greens and magentas are less so. there is some color theory thing going on here that i dont have a good cerebral understanding of and i wont pretend otherwise. i think i watched a youtube video on it once but it went in one ear and out the other. i just pick whatever colors look nicest based on whatever vibe im going for.

this one is more subtle, i think. can you tell the difference? there's nothing wrong with 100% greyscale art, but i like the depth that adding just a hint of color can bring.

i'll note that the examples i'll be using in this post all began as purely greyscale, but this is a process i use for just about every piece of art i make, including the full color ones. i'll use the recent mithrun art i made to demonstrate. additionally, i use clip studio paint, but the general concept should be transferable to other art programs.

for fun let's just start with Making The Picture. i've been thinking of making this writeup for a while and had it in mind while drawing this piece. beyond that, i didn't really have much of a plan for this outside of "mithrun looks down and hair goes woosh." i also really like all of the vertical lines in the canary uniform so i wanted to include those too but like. gone a little hog wild. that is the extent of my "concept." i do not remember why i had the thought of integrating a shattered mirror type of theme. i think i wanted to distract a bit from the awkward pose and cover it up some LOL but anyway. this lack of planning or thought will come into play later.

note 1: the textured marker brush i specifically use is the "bordered light marker" from daub. it is one of my favorite brushes in the history of forever and the daub mega brush pack is one of the best purchases ive ever made. highly recommend!!!

note 2: "what do you mean by exclusion and difference?" they are layer blending modes and not important to the overall lesson of this post but for transparency i wanted to say how i got these "effects." anyway!

with the background figured out, this is the point at which i generally merge all of my layers, duplicate said merged layer, and Then i begin experimenting with gradient maps. what are gradient maps?

the basic gist is that gradient maps replace the colors of an image based on their value.

so, with this particular gradient map, black will be replaced with that orangey red tone, white will be replaced with the seafoamy green tone, etc. this particular gradient map i'm using as an example is very bright and saturated, but the colors can be literally anything.

these two sets are the ones i use most. they can be downloaded for free here and here if you have csp. there are many gradient map sets out there. and you can make your own!

you can apply a gradient map directly onto a specific layer in csp by going to edit>tonal correction>gradient map. to apply one indirectly, you can use a correction layer through layer>new correction layer>gradient map. honestly, correction layers are probably the better way to go, because you can adjust your gradient map whenever you want after creating the layer, whereas if you directly apply a gradient map to a layer thats like. it. it's done. if you want to make changes to the applied gradient map, you have to undo it and then reapply it. i don't use correction layers because i am old and stuck in my ways, but it's good to know what your options are.

this is what a correction layer looks like. it sits on top and applies the gradient map to the layers underneath it, so you can also change the layers beneath however and whenever you want. you can adjust the gradient map by double clicking the layer. there are also correction layers for tone curves, brightness/contrast, etc. many such useful things in this program.

let's see how mithrun looks when we apply that first gradient map we looked at.

gadzooks. apologies for eyestrain. we have turned mithrun into a neon hellscape, which might work for some pieces, but not this one. we can fix that by changing the layer blending mode, aka this laundry list of words:

some of them are self explanatory, like darken and lighten, while some of them i genuinely don't understand how they are meant to work and couldn't explain them to you, even if i do use them. i'm sure someone out there has written out an explanation for each and every one of them, but i've learned primarily by clicking on them to see what they do.

for the topic of this post, the blending mode of interest is soft light. so let's take hotline miamithrun and change the layer blending mode to soft light.

here it is at 100% opacity. this is the point at which i'd like to explain why i like using textured brushes so much - it makes it very easy to get subtle color variation when i use this Secret Technique. look at the striation in the upper right background! so tasty. however, to me, these colors are still a bit "much." so let's lower the opacity.

i think thats a lot nicer to look at, personally, but i dont really like these colors together. how about we try some other ones?

i like both of these a lot more. the palettes give the piece different vibes, at which point i have to ask myself: What Are The Vibes, Actually? well, to be honest i didn't really have a great answer because again, i didn't plan this out very much at all. however. i knew in my heart that there was too much color contrast going on and it was detracting from the two other contrasts in here: the light and dark values and the sharp and soft shapes. i wanted mithrun's head to be the main focal point. for a different illustration, colors like this might work great, but this is not that hypothetical illustration, so let's bring the opacity down again.

yippee!! that's getting closer to what my heart wants. for fun, let's see what this looks like if we change the blending mode to color.

i do like how these look but in the end they do not align with my heart. oh well. fun to experiment with though! good to keep in mind for a different piece, maybe! i often change blending modes just to see what happens, and sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't. i very much cannot stress enough that much of my artistic process is clicking buttons i only sort of understand. for fun.

i ended up choosing the gradient map on the right because i liked that it was close to the actual canary uniform colors (sorta). it's at an even lower opacity though because there was Still too much color for my dear heart.

the actual process for this looks like me setting my merged layer to soft light at around 20% opacity and then clicking every single gradient map in my collection and seeing which one Works. sometimes i will do this multiple times and have multiple soft light and/or color layers combined.

typically at this point i merge everything again and do minor contrast adjustments using tone curves, which is another tool i find very fun to play around with. then for this piece in particular i did some finishing touches and decided that the white border was distracting so i cropped it. and then it's done!!! yay!!!!!

this process is a very simple and "fast" way to add more depth and visual interest to a piece without being overbearing. well, it's fast if you aren't indecisive like me, or if you are better at planning.

let's do another comparison. personally i feel that the hint of color on the left version makes mithrun look just a bit more unwell (this is a positive thing) and it makes the contrast on his arm a lot more pleasing to look at. someone who understands color theory better than i do might have more to say on the specifics, but that's honestly all i got.

just dont look at my layers too hard. ok?

[reasonsforhope]

"Chicago’s 82-story Aqua Tower appears to flutter with the wind. Its unusual, undulating facade has made it one of the most unique features of Chicago’s skyline, distinct from the many right-angled glass towers that surround it.

In designing it, the architect Jeanne Gang thought not only about how humans would see it, dancing against the sky, but also how it would look to the birds who fly past. The irregularity of the building’s face allows birds to see it more clearly and avoid fatal collisions. “It’s kind of designed to work for both humans and birds,” she said.

As many as 1 billion birds in the US die in building collisions each year. And Chicago, which sits along the Mississippi Flyway, one of the four major north-south migration routes, is among the riskiest places for birds. This year, at least 1,000 birds died in one day from colliding with a single glass-covered building. In New York, which lies along the Atlantic Flyway, hundreds of species traverse the skyline and tens of thousands die each year.

As awareness grows of the dangers posed by glistening towers and bright lights, architects are starting to reimagine city skylines to design buildings that are both aesthetically daring and bird-safe.

Pictured: Chicago's Aqua Tower was designed with birds in mind.

Some are experimenting with new types of patterned or coated glass that birds can see. Others are rethinking glass towers entirely, experimenting with exteriors that use wood, concrete or steel rods. Blurring lines between the indoors and outdoors, some architects are creating green roofs and facades, inviting birds to nest within the building.

“Many people think about bird-friendly design as yet another limitation on buildings, yet another requirement,” said Dan Piselli, director of sustainability at the New York-based architecture firm FXCollaborative. “But there are so many design-forward buildings that perfectly exemplify that this doesn’t have to limit your design, your freedom.”

How modern buildings put birds in danger

For Deborah Laurel, principal in the firm Prendergast Laurel Architects, the realization came a couple of decades ago. She was up for an award for her firm’s renovation of the Staten Island Children’s Museum when the museum’s director mentioned to her that a number of birds had been crashing into the new addition. “I was horrified,” she said.

She embarked on a frenzy of research to learn more about bird collisions. After several years of investigation, she found there was little in the way of practical tips for architects, and she teamed up with the conservation group NYC Audubon, to develop a bird-safe building guide.

The issue, she discovered, was that technological and architectural advancements over the last half-century had in some ways transformed New York City – and most other US skylines and suburbs – into death traps for birds...

At certain times of day, tall glass towers almost blend into the sky. At other times, windows appear so pristinely clear that they are imperceptible to birds, who might try to fly though them. During the day, trees and greenery reflected on shiny building facades can trick birds, whereas at night, brightly lit buildings can confuse and bewilder them...

Pictured: A green roof on the Javits Convention Center serves as a sanctuary for birds.

The changes that could save avian lives

About a decade ago, Piselli’s firm worked on a half-billion-dollar renovation of New York’s Jacob K Javits Convention Center, a gleaming glass-clad space frame structure that was killing 4,000-5,000 birds a year. “The building was this black Death Star in the urban landscape,” Piselli said.

To make it more bird friendly, FXCollaborative (which was then called FXFowle) reduced the amount of glass and replaced the rest of it with fritted glass, which has a ceramic pattern baked into it. Tiny, textured dots on the glass are barely perceptible to people – but birds can see them. The fritted glass can also help reduce heat from the sun, keeping the building cooler and lowering air conditioning costs. “This became kind of the poster child for bird-friendly design in the last decade,” Piselli said.

The renovation also included a green roof, monitored by the NYC Audubon. The roof now serves as a sanctuary for several species of birds, including a colony of herring gulls. Living roofs have since become popular in New York and other major cities, in an inversion of the decades-long practice of fortifying buildings with anti-bird spikes. In the Netherlands, the facade of the World Wildlife Fund headquarters, a futuristic structure that looks like an undulating blob of mercury, contains nest boxes and spaces for birds and bats to live.

The use of fritted glass has also become more common as a way to save the birds and energy.

Earlier this year, Azadeh Omidfar Sawyer, an assistant professor in building technology in the Carnegie Mellon School of Architecture, working with student researchers, used open-source software to help designers create bespoke, bird-friendly glass patterns. A book of 50 patterns that Sawyer published recently includes intricate geometric lattices and abstract arrays of lines and blobs. “Any architect can pick up this book and choose a pattern they like, or they can customize it,” she said.

Pictured: The fritted glass used in Studio Gang’s expansion of Kresge College at the University of California, Santa Cruz, depicts the animals in the local ecosystem.

Builders have also been experimenting with UV-printed patterns, which are invisible to humans but perceptible to most birds. At night, conservationists and architects are encouraging buildings turn off lights, especially during migration season, when the bright glow of a city skyline can disorient birds.

And architects are increasingly integrating screens or grates that provide shade as well as visibility for birds. The 52-floor New York Times building, for example, uses fritted glass clad with ceramic rods. The spacing between the rods increases toward the top of the building, to give the impression that the building is dissolving into the sky.

Gang’s work has incorporated structures that can also serve as blinds for birders, or perches from which to observe nature. A theater she designed in Glencoe, Illinois, for example, is surrounded by a walking path made of a wood lattice, where visitors can feel like they’re up in the canopy of trees.

Pictured: The Writers Theatre, designed by Studio Gang, includes a walking path encased in wood lattice.

Rejecting the idea of the iridescent, entirely mirrored-glass building, “where you can’t tell the difference between the habitat and the sky”, Gang aims for the opposite. “I always tried to make the buildings more visible with light and shadow and geometry, to have more of a solid presence,” she said.

Gang has been experimenting with adding bird feeders around her own home in an effort to reduce collisions with windows, and she encourages other homeowners to do the same.

“I’ve found that birds slow down and stop at feeders instead of trying to fly through the glass,” she said.

While high-rise buildings and massive urban projects receive the most attention, homes and low-rise buildings account for most bird collision deaths. “The huge challenge is that glass is everywhere.” said Christine Sheppard, who directs the glass collisions program at the American Bird Conservancy (ABC). “It’s hard to know what I know and not cringe when I look at it.”

Tips for improving your own home include using stained glass or patterned decals that can help birds see a window, she said. ABC has compiled a list of window treatments and materials, ranked by how bird-safe they are.

Whether they’re large or small, the challenge of designing buildings that are safe for birds can be “liberating”, said Gang, who has become an avid birdwatcher and now carries a pair of binoculars on her morning jogs. “It gives you another dimension to try to imagine.”"

-via The Guardian, December 27, 2023

[lou-struck]

For Little You

Keigo Takami x reader

W.C: 1.9k

~ For the first time in his life, Keigo gets to feel like a kid in a candy store. 

"Are you sureeee you don't wanna split this soft pretzel with me?" Keigo asks with a teasing smile as he holds out the last little piece of the snack he got when you first got to the mall. Outings like this, where the two of you can walk hand in hand, going about your day as if you were normal civilians, are rare. Usually, you would've been stopped by Keigo's numerous fans due to his eye-catchingly glorious red wings, but thanks to a nasty run-in with a villain, he has only a few feathers hidden under his jacket. 

"Nope, that's all you," you say. All he had been talking about leading up to your mall expedition was getting his hands on a soft pretzel. 

"Suit yourself." he humms tossing the last piece of the pastry into his mouth. Now, with his hands free, they sneak through the open space to latch onto yours as you continue walking. A soft smile on his face as you continue having a peaceful day off. 

"Hey, what's that place over there? "you point at the giant teal and gold striped columns of a shop you certainly haven't seen before.

"Isn't that where the exotic rock shop was?"  He comments, taking a sip from the thick straw of his bubble tea. "What was it called? Something like Rocks and Roads?"

"Your guess is better than mine, I never went in there," you say. "Did you ever go in there?" 

"I have a few times, "he admits with a chuckle. "One of the sidekicks who worked at my agency a few years back was able to eat rocks and crystals and things like that and make armor out of it. So I got them for a Secret Santa year and got them a really cool one."

"Oh, are you talking about Rock Muncher?" you say, enthusiastically recalling the Geo Hero. "Whatever happened to her?"

"Got a new cushy job overseas and transferred, but I heard she is doing really well over there." 

"Wow, that's great." you smile as you get a closer look at the new store. "It looks like they replaced the Rock store with a candy store."

"A candy store?" Keigo parrots, his eyes lighting up at the prospect. As much as he tries to hide it, Keigo has a wicked sweet tooth, one that he rarely has the chance to indulge in due to his strict upbringing at the hands of the hero's commission.

"Wanna check it out?" you ask hopefully; you could definitely have a sweet treat right about now, and judging by the way Keigo's eyes scan the decorative gummy bear statue in the shop's window, he is too.

"Am I that transparent?" he chuckles as you tug on his hand, guiding him into what many people call heaven.

The smell of chocolate wraps around you in a loving embrace as you step into the warmly lit store.  Large plastic containers of different types of sweets line the shop's walls like wallpaper. "Wow, I have never seen so many different types of candy before." You exclaim, fascinated by the variety.

"I-it's unreal," Keigo says, a slight waiver of a motion in his tone; you turn to look at him but are unable to catch his eye. His gaze fixated on a mother and her child picking out sweets from the largest display case by the cash register.

"What ones do you think we should bring home?" the mother asks her starry-eyed child.

"All of them…" they murmur dazedly, unable to stare at any one treat for too long. Although their interaction is cute, there is a distant look of sorrow in your boyfriend's eyes, and you realize that this may be a new experience for him.

Keigo never had the kind of childhood that most children had, even before he started training under the hero commission. You have a feeling that he never got the opportunity to pick out treats at the candy store. 

"Maybe we should get a few things," you say giving his hand a squeeze to let you know that you are still with him and those bad memories are things of the past.

"We should?"

"Yes. for uhhh quality control," you say jokingly. "It's our responsibility to test out some of the products and make sure nothing is poisonous."

"Can't argue with that logic," he laughs, grabbing two large baskets and handing one to you. "Let's go crazy then."

"You don't have to tell me twice," you laugh, your hands tingle in anticipation as you wonder which mouthwatering corner of the shop you should start filling your basket in. 

~

You aren't sure when you lost Keigo among the sugary aisles, but you first noticed his absence when you found a large gummy snake; you held it up like a goofball and turned to show him, only to realize that he was no longer following behind you. 

Knowing he would never just abandon you, you continue your browsing, becoming fascinated by just how many types of candy exist in the world. 

Some treats you remember vaguely from your childhood, but the wrapping has changed a bit over the years, and some seem to be from completely different countries.  But where they come from doesn't matter; they all find their way into your basket.

The weight of your basket grows heavier by the second, but that doesn't deter you from wandering through the store aimlessly. The smell of freshly made fudge hits the back of your throat, and you make a mental note to consider flossing your teeth when you get home. 

At an endcap across from the drink fridge, you stumble across a brightly colored display of chocolate bars; each one is wrapped in a different colored wrapping; upon closer inspection, you realize that all the different colors are used to represent the wide variety of flavors. 

Minty green for Chocolate Chip Mint.

Purple for Ube. 

Gold for Fried Chicken

Black for Dark Chocolate Raspberry…

You pause and slowly backtrack. To get a closer look at the golden wrapping of the Fried Chicken flavored milk chocolate bar. 

'How does that even work?' you murmur to yourself. 'Was the chocolate mixed with chicken broth or something?"

You curiously pick up the packaging just to see what exactly is in the chocolate to make it chicken flavored and can't find anything. 

An unnerving shiver shoots down your spine as you set the bar down in favor of some candy that does not represent a dinner entree. 

The next thing you know, your basket has miraculously filled with not only your favorite sweets but tons of things you want to try out, as well as some things that you know Keigo likes. 

Holding the full basket is painful and you have to put all your focus on not dropping it to the floor. A bead of sweat drips down your brow as you trudge over to the cash register, only to accidentally bump into someone. Apologies are already flying off your tongue as you lock eyes with Keigo. 

His is even more full than yours is. A big smile is on his face as he takes in both you and your basket. He must've really needed this sugary retail therapy, and although you know that no amount of money can undo the pitfalls of his childhood, getting to share these sweet, special moments with you is more than worth it.

"It looks like we did some damage," he says, taking your too-heavy basket from you with ease. You smile at him gratefully and look down at your stinging,  slightly indented palms. 

"We sure did. But do you think we have enough?" you tease as Keigo sets both containers on the countertop with a thud. 

"Barely, but I think we will manage." he grins, taking out his credit card and handing it to the cashier, who is looking at Keigo suspiciously. You have to hold in a laugh; it's the same look of muddled recognition he gets while in public without his big red wings. Apparently, most people can't seem to put their finger on what about him is so familiar without them. 

After paying way too much for basically a year's supply of candy, the two of you drag your enormous, triple-lined shopping bags out the doors and into the bustling mall.

You do well for a while but once you reach a less busy area of the mall, you become aware of just how heavy your load is.  Your muscles ache as you try to keep up with Keigo's chipper steps. And you have to stop to readjust your hold.

When he notices that you are no longer walking alongside him, he pauses and turns back to look at you confusedly. "What's the matter Angel? Is your bag too heavy for you?"

You look at the four bags he is carrying and then back at the one he gave you. "No." You lie casually, setting the bag on a wooden bench for support. "I was just thinking that we should each try something before we get home."

"To lighten the load?" he teases, joining you over on the bench. 

"Fine, maybe the bags are a little heavy." you relent, "but I still want to try something."

"Works for me. There is something I really want to test out." he laughs, reaching across your lap and digging into the bag you have been hauling. He pulls out a familiar-looking paper-wrapped chocolate bar, and you wrinkle your nose in disgust. 

"Really Kei? Out of everything we just bought from freaking candy palooza, you choose the Fried Chicken chocolate bar?"

"I sure did," he grins, unwrapping the chocolate right in front of you. "C'm on. Aren't you at least a little curious about what it would taste like?

"Curious, yes. But I'd rather eat something that tastes like fruit, not poultry," you comment, selecting some sour cherry gummies from your bag instead. 

"More for me then," he laughs, holding out his bar towards you; now unwrapped, your nose picks up the slight aroma of chicken and honey flavorings. "Cheers."

You bump his chocolate bar with your little candy packet and take a bite. The sweet, sour taste of the gummy explodes over your tongue and crackles pleasantly against your taste buds. The addicting taste has you immediately reaching for another coin-sized gummy. 

You notice Keigo has fallen silent and you look over to him. His expression is unreadable as he stares down at his chocolate bar with a furrowed brow.

"What's the matter, Kei?" you ask. "Does it taste bad?"

"No, it's just interesting," he says back finally. "I think I like it."

You are dumbfounded, shook, stunned.  "You do?"

"Yeah, want to try a little bit?" he waves the bar in front of you again, and you catch a glimpse of little golden specks in the chocolate. 

"Fine, just a little piece," you say, reaching for the bar. 

"Ah ah ah," he pulls the bar away and presses his lips to yours. The taste of honey, and savory chocolate still dancing on his lips as he kisses you. 

After indulging in your oxygen like its candy, he pulls away and gives you a coy little grin. "Now that wasn't so bad, now was it y/n."

"Hmmm, I don't know," you respond, your lips curving up into a syrupy sweet little smirk. I think I'll need to have another taste just to be sure."

Tagging: @pixelcafe-network @sleepyyshroom @isaacdaknight @qardasngan @dog55teeth @atigerandabear @anjodedesgostoeerros

[thesunshinebunny]

Hey, can you do TWST form leaders crushing on/having a s/o with fairy wings please? (Fem or Gender Neutral)

Yes, yes, yes, I know, I'm super late. A lot of things happened and a lot more is still happening, but finally…FINALLY, I'm writing for you again. I hope that, after so much time, this hc is to your liking. Have a nice night.

Riddle

Throughout his childhood, Riddle didn't have the chance to meet many people, much less people with animal features Meeting Chanyan and being in Night Raven for two years, his perspective on human features changed completely.

And at no time did anything racist cross his mind.

Even so, seeing you in your ceremonial robe, with large holes in the back, instead of the hood and pants that he was so used to seeing, was a complete surprise.

If by chance you were to be chosen for Heartslabyul, Riddle would personally take care of arranging your room to your needs, including your uniform. Unfortunately it wast'n the case, for you being sent to Ramshackle, but that virtue of yours wouldn't be monopolized by dust and dirt.

Your visits to his dorm never go unnoticed. The sunlight coming into contact with your wings always creates a beautiful rainbow, even light effects, on the walls or around you.

It's like you have a multi-colored halo following you around wherever you go.

The animals also, for some reason, love to be on your lap. Your sensitive hands, your wings moving in the air, coiled in warm sunlight…

Riddle was fascinated.

You really did look like a fairy… a beautiful garden fairy, straight out of a fairy tale.

And then we can see Riddle's heart start to beat even faster, making his cheeks blush in the process.

Leona

A person with animal features…what a suprise. Although it was unusual to find someone with wings instead of ears and a tail; he also assumed that you were one of that species of bird.

It wasn't until he saw you in the botanical garden, next to a small fountain, surrounded by multiple flowers and plants, that he could see your wings more closely.

They had no feathers, they were transparent.

Anyway… an anomaly or something like that. Nothing that would prevent him from taking his daily nap.

But that was the problem, he couldn't, since the light that filtered through the glass of the botanical garden made your wings radiate and reflected those same rays, causing some to hit his eyes.

It wasn't until he opened his eyes furiously that Leona saw a multicolored aura on your back, accompanied by small flashes of light, as if it were stardust.

“An angel"... was what escaped from his lips, agape, seeing you turn towards him, letting your hair delicately run along the profile of your neck, and a smile formed on your face to greet him.

Leona from now on likes to take his naps with you, allowing himself to be lulled by your non-stop chatter about your land, while he watches your wings flutter delicately, even fragilely.

He is extremely protective of you, not allowing you to visit his dorm since he doesn't trust the strength, or in this case, kindness of his dorm mates… It isn't a dorm that is characterized by being precisely gentle and soft in its touch.

But Leona is. And he loves to feel and run through the multiple bifurcations that your wings have on the tips of his fingers. He loves to feel the small breeze the small movement of your wings generates when you are resting.

And above all, he loves to see your wings relaxed on your bare back first thing in the morning.

Azul

What a beautiful and peculiar sight, something new to investigate. Even manipulate. It's not every day you see a fairy at school.

Let's agree that Azul was one of the few people who remembered that Malleus was half fairy, and that… after countless failed attempts to ask and experience his race, your figure appearing through the doors of the Monstro Lounge was like a sign directly from heaven.

Obviously you weren't there for Azul, no. You had entered simply and plainly to see the multiple aquatic creatures that had been mentioned to you on the surface, but you were unable to see them from so close. So, what better place to have an excursion to the sea than the very dorm that housed those very creatures.

Azul, seeing he was being ignored over a common fish, was about to kick you out of the lounge, with the excuse of “no drink, no show”

And he was close, ohhh, he was so close…but when his eyes saw your transparent wings and the way the water distorted even more over them, how your wings generated small rays of sunlight that created paths for the fish and other creatures…he was simply enchanted.

VIP access for the rest of the year.

Azul is always inventing some excuses to go see you. “I brought you a potions book, maybe they will help you for the next exam.” “Jade baked a couple of cookies and asked me to bring them to you.” “I saw you liked a creature from our fish tank, so I brought it to you in a medium-sized one so you can admire it as long as you want.”

“I want to draw your wings” It wasn't the excuse he had planned for this day. His mouth betrayed him when he saw you in a dress characteristic of your lands. You looked so… beautiful.

“Sure, let me open the window to let in some light and sit on the couch.”

He nearly had a heart attack when you sat so delicately on the tangled couch, your ensemble lighting up the whole room.

Gods, Azul was in love with that light you emanated.

Kalim

“When you fly, do you loose fairy dust?” was the first thing Kalim said when he saw you in the ceremonial robe in front of the mirror.

He was ready to take you to Scarabia immediately and leave you under the sun to admire those huge, shiny wings. His disappointment was no less when he heard you're going to Ramshackle.

But that didn't stop him from visiting you, he even spent hours in your dorm next to you, admiring and tracing lines on your wings, tickling you and laughing under your breath.

One day Jamil had to come and take him out by the ears since he was neglecting his duty as dorm leader.

Kalim walked out the door with a face of a wet dog, he even almost started crying. Being away from your wings, from you, broke his heart.

He always found a way to sit next to you in class, he even went into classes that didn't apply to him, just to see you. And obviously he got a hard time from the teachers.

One night, Kalim invited you to a party at his dorm, preparing a grand banquet, a grand decoration, asking his dorm mates to wear their best robes.

And speaking of clothes, Kalim even prepared a change of clothes for you, if you were comfortable with that, obviously. He wasn't going to force you to wear something you felt uncomfortable or unpleasant in.

His face lit up when you told him it was no problem, that you loved to wear multiple and colorful clothes. The bigger your closet, the better.

And his face lit up even more when he saw you descending the stairs in his traditional red and white hindu outfit, adorned with the finest rubies and gold medallions. A bit ostentatious for your taste, but of an exquisite and soft finesse.

But the greatest ornament you wore was not the jewelry, nor the small and half headband that circled from the middle of your forehead back; but your smile. That ear-to-ear smile that he loved to admire so much.

The intention of the evening was to get you dancing, to make you spin to the tune of cheerful music, even to chat for hours. But Kalim was only interested in one thing. And that was the way the starting of your wings was delicately embraced by the soft fabric of the sari.

Vil

“Mirror, mirror on the wall, who is the most beautiful creature in the school?”

It was no surprise for Vil to see his reflection on his huge magic mirror, he was still the most beautiful person in the school…but he was disappointed to know that the same mirror had ignored his question. He didn’t ask about person, but about creature.

Now, don’t get me wrong, your own being was that of a person of flesh and blood, but your structure had a beastly part…like the Savannahclaw motto.

Vil was disappointed not to see your image in the mirror’s reflection.

Yes, Vil was enchanted by the beauty and brightness that characterized fairies, features he had never seen, and that you, who possessed the brightest and most beautiful wings that he had seen in his short life, were in this school specifically for villains…well, it was an opportunity he wasn't going to waste.

Whenever he could, he left his duties as dorm leader to see your profile in the corridors or sitting in the gardens. He admired the silhouette of your back, perfectly upright to support the weight of the wings, although to the naked eye, they gave the sensation of being made of paper, breakable and fragile paper.

Vil fantasized day and night being able to touch them, feel them with the tips of his fingers. He wished with a fierce intensity to be the owner of the laughter and small sounds that would surely be caused by the caresses he oh so deliciously wanted to give you. So much desire happened, without warning.

And from that day on, Vil only had eyes for you, for your figure, for your eyes, for your smile, for your light.

Yes, Vil was initially obsessed with the beauty of your fairy side, but now, deeper in their relationship, Vil was in love with your own beauty.

The way your back curved to change your top garment, the way your hair seemed like a continuation of those transparent wings. The way your figure fit so well with his when taking pictures, as your smile was the most striking thing in the shot.

The way the violet color reflected on the bifurcations of your wings and when the morning light hit them, it generated a beautiful and delicate violet ray.

Vil had never loved the uniform's violet color so much until you tried it on and wished with all his inner fire that you had been assigned to Pomefiore.

Idia

He saw you in flying class, without a broom, and yet you were flying with a grace that even the best flying wizard had.

And not to mention the little sparkles that floated around you as your wings fluttered. He was so mesmerized that he almost knocked over a tree.

Despite his reserved nature, Idia was irresistibly drawn to you. There was something about the way your wings unfolded, as if they were an extension of your own essence, that aroused in him a mixture of curiosity and admiration.

One day, after a long period of observation from a distance, which lasted for months, Idia decided to make an effort to get closer. He decided to approach the botanical garden, your little space of rest and relaxation to start a first conversation. Finding you lying on the grass, with your back to him, Idia couldn't help but blush.

There was something about the combination of natural elements and magic that felt like an extension of your personal charm. He blushed so much that he had to close his eyes to calm his poor, mortal heart, which was pounding like it was about to burst out of his chest.

Then he opened them again, you were floating above him, head down, letting your hair float in a strange way and your eyes were at the same height as his.

Idia realized that there was something more than fascination in his heart. Every time you laughed or moved your wings, he felt a spark in his chest, a warmth that couldn't be explained only by his fascination to that same sparkle your own wings gave off. It was something deeper, something that had slowly begun to blossom inside him.

From that day on, Idia began to look for excuses to spend time by your side, not only in the gardens, but also in the most common corners of the school.

He looked for you at your dorm, he took you to his. You showed him how wonderful nature could be on your lap, he showed you how peaceful time could be in a glimpse of the underworld.

Even at your side, he could feel like an eternal spring was lodged in his heart, waiting to receive the rays of your smile every day.

Malleus

Malleus, seeing you for the first time, a new student with fairy wings, someone of his own race, was captivated not only by your ethereal beauty, but also by the sense of ancient magic that emanated from you. To him, those wings represented a connection to the ancient myths, legends, and cultures he had studied so much for centuries.

Every time he saw you running through the grey halls of the school, his heart beat with a mix of intrigue and admiration, an unusual curiosity he had never felt before.

Malleus began leaving small gifts in the garden. Enchanted flowers and jewels that seemed to resonate with a soft glow, as if they were meant to be worn by you.

He felt an enormous sense of protection towards you. He saw you as tiny, fragile. He always made sure, from a distance, that you were safe. Even if it earned a reprimand from Lilia “you seem like a pretty shady stalker”

In your presence he often found himself in a state of silent admiration, caught up in the contemplation of your elegance and natural magic.

Malleus took any opportunity to be near you, even in everyday situations like walks around campus or visits to the library. Just being by your side was more than enough to melt his heart of stone.

Sometimes, at night and with the brightness of the stars as the only things present, Malleus surprised you with little surprises: an enchanted melody that only you could hear or a series of handwritten notes, full of sincere and tender confessions. A real Don Juan.

It wasn’t until the evening of a school festival that Malleus gathered the courage to ask for your hand…for a dance together under the moonlight. And dance, you danced, until the music stopped, until all you could hear were their moderately agitated breathing, until the light of dawn began to shine and welcome a new day.

Both of you danced until a bright, multi-colored aura surrounded you.

[purplekissinger]

I am the pretty thing that lives in the castle

And I pray one prayer - I repeat it till my tongue stiffens - Catherine Earnshaw, may you not rest as long as I am living; you said I killed you - haunt me, then!  Emily Bronte, ‘Wuthering Heights’.

Y/N became a ghost instead of Myrtle. She couldn't care less about Tom. He wishes he could say the same. Wordcount: 3k.

At their first meeting, Tom even shrieked a little (as he later justified, solely because Y/N took him by surprise). He crept towards the sinks that bathed in the bluish light of the moon, and did not at all expect that someone would jump at him from the ceiling with a  “Boo!”

“Boo,” Y/N said reluctantly and passed through him like a light bluish cloud. Tom closed his eyes, but didn’t feel anything.

“Good evening to you too,” he said, looking at her cautiously. Y/N floated up to the ceiling and was now studying the stucco, running her ghostly finger absentmindedly over the frozen gargoyle masks. “What's new?”

“As you may guess, absolutely nothing,” Y/N responded, “but I like that you’re trying to be polite. It's nice.”

“Do you feel ‘nice’?”

“Not really. I'm using words that I learned in life, but they don't quite describe my experience because I've never experienced anything like this before. I'd rather you be polite than rude, and that's my new “nice.”

Tom looked at her, a luminous spot against the black wall, which trembled slightly, like the wings of a strange butterfly. Y/N died wearing a thin shirt, but there was no longer any way she could be cold or get sick.

“If I didn’t know you were a Ravenclaw, I would have guessed by now,” he said.

“I was different when I was alive,” Y/N said judiciously. “More lively”

“You sure were”.

“No, I mean it. I can't explain it enough for you to understand, but this experience is...changing. Everything becomes so transparent, unreal. If I were the same, I would have already cried barrels of tears and flooded the toilet”.

“There is someone who is eager to do that for you,” Tom said gloomily. “Myrtle has been whining all day long, telling everyone what a wonderful friend you were.”

“Me?”  Y/N sounded surprised. “I can’t remember that we were friends. However, I did stand up for her a couple of times…”

Tom kept silent a little longer, angrily tapping his fingers on the broken edge of the sink. When falling, already dead, Y/N hit her head here. They didn't fix the sink, instead, they put a lock on the toilet door, but Tom sneaked in almost every evening.

“Is that why you’re not angry at me for killing you?” he finally asked.

“Well, technically you didn’t kill me. You just released a basilisk, which also didn't do anything against its nature, so it's kind of like an accident. Although I can understand why you didn’t tell anyone about it all,” Y/N said. “No, that’s not the reason why”.

“You are very understanding,” said Tom. “Is it okay if I stay here a little longer? I need to prepare an essay on the history of magic, and tomorrow is the final match between the badgers and Slytherin. All of Hogwarts is shaking”.

“Make yourself at home,” Y/N said indifferently.

She went down to the Chamber of Secrets with him when the time came to seal it. Hovering silently two steps behind him, she looked at the tunnels and rusty gratings that were many, many centuries old, and for the first time something like curiosity was reflected on her transparent face. For some reason this made Tom feel almost happy. Y/N’s curiosity became almost human when, rustling its scales, a huge snake slowly crawled out of the black hole in the wall and surrounded them with a ring, and put its terrible head so as to get a better look at the guests, and hissed in greeting.

“I've read that those who speak Parseltongue can look a basilisk in the eyes and survive,” said Tom, looking down, “but I don’t want to test that.”

Y/N  looked fearlessly with her dead eyes straight into the face of the creature.

“Yes, the cost of a mistake would be very high,” she said. “What is your pet's name?”

“Susie,” Tom said quietly. “It's a girl”.

Y/N smiled weakly.

“Hello, Susie,” she said. Susie let out a squeal that sounded more like a laugh. “Nice to meet you. Unfortunately, this is not for long, because we have come to seal the Chamber of Secrets forever.”

“For a while,” Tom corrected her. “Susie, I'll be back, I promise. I don't know when, but I'll be back”.

He closed his eyes and stretched his hands forward. The basilisk poked its terrible mouth into his chest, and Tom hugged her. 

***

When Tom returned to school the next year, no one noticed anything, and he even began to think that the ritual did not work, but as soon as he crossed the threshold of the toilet on the third floor, a quiet exclamation was heard from under the ceiling:

“Oh! Tom, what happened to you?”

Like a feather or a petal, Y/N slowly descended towards him. Tom looked at her and thought that flying suited her well.

“Is it that noticeable?” he asked suspiciously.

“You have become very small,” Y/N said, flying around him. “Like this,” and made a small circle with her hands. “Where did half of you go?”.

This is how he learned that ghosts see the effects of Horcruxes.

“I won’t tell anyone,” she promised. “Who was it?”

And Tom told her. About everything, about how he found out who the Gaunts were, about how he found his uncle, about the Riddles, about how scary it was to look at his father’s corpse, because he was so very alike him, about how he made a Horcrux right there while the bodies were still warm. It was easy for him, he wanted to talk, to free himself from every detail, take it out of his head, let Y/N look, discuss, judge.

She was in no hurry to judge. She just said:

“This could backfire on you.”

“How?” Tom suddenly felt offended. He just now realized that he would like her to admire what a cool magician he is, and maybe even clap her hands.

“I know more than you,” she said vaguely. “Not everything, perhaps, but more. Yes, I’m still on the threshold, but from where I’m standing, it’s clear that you acted very rashly.”

“What do you mean by ‘still’?"

She didn't answer.

All autumn, winter and summer he went to visit Y/N, even leaving textbooks in a niche by the window. It was quiet and somehow very cozy there, the light from the window was so gentle, and on sunny days the stained glass windows seemed to light up with colored lights. Y/N was silent for the most part, but seeing her figure out of the corner of his eye and hearing her thoughtful humming under her breath was... nice. This was his new “nice”, because something inside of him began to change inexplicably, irreversibly and horribly.

In winter, he asked her to come to the Yule Ball, and she agreed, and she blew out all the candles and ruined the chandelier. Oh, the chaos!.. And in the spring they celebrated Y/N’s first Deathday Party. For this occasion Tom stole a lemon pie from the kitchen, but Y/N politely thanked him and said that she couldn’t eat that. She fluttered back and forth, he chewed on the pie, they argued about the technique of using Fiendfyre, and it was a nice evening.

“I won’t come back here in the fall,” Tom said suddenly, because in fact that’s all he’s been thinking about for the last few days.

“I know,” Y/N said. “You are in seventh year. I can count to seven”.

“But I’ll come back someday,” he said stubbornly. “I just don’t know when”.

“I think I’ve already heard this once”.

“I’ll come back for Susie too, don’t you worry.”

“And what will we do then, riddle me this?”

“Seize the Ministry of Magic,” he blurted out. “Y/N, I'll miss you. Will you miss me?”

“I would like to tell you something nice in response, but I’ll tell the truth. Maybe I won't be here soon.”

He suddenly felt very hot. Then terribly cold.

“What do you mean you won’t be here? Where are you going to go?” Tom asked in an unnaturally high voice. “Aren’t you here forever?”

“Not really,” Y/N answered evasively. “You see, when I died, I was not at all ready for this”.

“Can anyone possibly be ready for this?”

“You must be ready, Tom. Now I know that. I was confused and made... the wrong choice. Stuck on the threshold. Didn't go any further. But I can step forward at any moment, I just need to think it over carefully and make a decision”.

“Can’t you step back?” Tom asked. He did not put hope into these words, but it sounded nevertheless.

“No,” Y/N answered simply. “I died, Tom”.

He rested his hand on his cheek and watched her spin, arms outstretched, right up to the ceiling, the invisible wind blowing her hair. He said:

“I regret that I didn’t know you when you were alive. I think we could become friends.”

“We could,” Y/N agreed. “But for this to happen you shouldn’t have killed me”.

Tom jumped up sharply and, his burning face hid in his hands, quickly walked out of the room. The door slammed so loudly that the noise echoed throughout the entire corridor.

***

Tom did not soon cross this threshold again.

He walked from Dumbledore's office after the first unsuccessful job interview in his life, he wanted to get out of the castle as quickly as possible so as not to endure this humiliation anymore, but his feet themselves led him to the third floor.

“You have become even smaller,” said a familiar voice, which he had only dreamed about in the morning. Loud, distant, but somehow comforting. “You're barely visible”.

Tom was silent. He looked and still did not believe that he was seeing her again. Finally he grinned and stepped forward.

“But you’re still the same,” he said.

“The same, but not quite,” Y/N objected, going down to meet him. “I thought a lot and almost decided to take a step further”.

“But not yet?”

“Not yet. This is a complex process, and it doesn't get any easier now that I have all the time in the world”.

“What exactly are you doing?” Tom asked, leaning against the wall. A forgotten feeling of comfort covered him in a cool wave. He felt like he wanted to stay.

“I’m thinking,” Y/N said. “A lot”.

“Don’t you need to, I don’t know, take revenge on your murderer?” he asked and realized that it sounded like a request. Lord Voldemort had a lot of requests that day.

“No, thanks,” said Y/N. She looked him up and down with a curious look and added: “It seems to me that there’s not much left of him anyway.”

Tom tiredly sank to the floor and tucked his legs under him. He wanted to talk to her again and again, so that she would answer sharply, but always to the point. He wanted her to scream at him, to rush to claw his eyes out, he wanted her to thirst for revenge.

“I sometimes saw you in my dreams,” he said. “Like we’re friends or something.”

“I have nothing to do with this,” Y/N said. “Have you made any living friends over the years?”

“Wait for me,” Lord Voldemort said without listening to her. He wanted it to sound like an order, but it turned out to be the third request.  “Y/N, I figured out how to defeat death.”

“Sure you did”.

“I am not lying. I really fought it all this time and almost won”.

“I wish you would know how stupid you look now.”

“Are you going to listen or not?! I tell you, wait, I will bring you back, I will fix everything, you will be alive again, I will get you out…”

“Promise?”

“Yes, yes!”

“Lord Voldemort's promise?”

She smiled. Unable to look at her, Tom stormed out.

***

The third time he returned to the castle was on May 2, 1998. He walked along the empty corridors of the third floor, and his steps echoed loudly. He was going to congratulate Y/N on her yet another Deathday. In his hands was not a lemon pie, but an Elder Wand.

The door to the girls' toilet was blown off its hinges by the explosion. He crossed the threshold and saw that the stained glass windows were broken, and golden dawn rays were pouring into the room. For a second it seemed to him that the place was empty, that he was late.

“Oh, Merlin!” a familiar laugh rang out. “What's happened to you, Tom? You have become so very small, smaller than a mouse!”

She came down from the ceiling as before, but for the first time he saw her in the pink rays of the sun, and she seemed almost alive. For the first time he saw her almost alive.

“Come with me, Y/N”, he said softly. His hand trembled a little, grasping his wand. “I will bring you back to life. I will give you back everything and  even more. Soon I will have the Resurrection Stone, and you will live again”.

She laughed even louder, twirled as if in a dance, and he felt uneasy.

“Stupid, stupid Tom,” Y/N said. “Still don’t get this, do you? Everyone gets smarter over the years, but you seem to only get dumber”.

And no Avada Kedavra could shut her up.

“But I'm glad you came. Really, I am. I wanted to say goodbye to you, Tom. I'm finally making that step”.

“No,” Lord Voldemort said in a changed voice. “Don’t. Don’t you dare”.

“Or else what?”

“Don't do this”, when was the last time he begged for something, pleaded? Was it with her?! “Stay. Stay, Y/N. I told you, I'll bring you back!”

“You forgot the magic word”. Y/N giggled. She sank to the floor and looked at him cheerfully and seriously at the same time. “I feel sorry for you, Tom”.

He had heard it once before, but coming from her it sounded and felt like “Crucio.”

“I have to go, really. There's no time to chat. I’ll tell you one more thing. Soon you will be offered a choice one last time, so please, please, don’t be stubborn. Can you do this for me?”

Tom looked at her desperately, afraid to blink, and still missed the moment when Y/N melted into the air.

***

The empty platform shines white, as if it were covered with snow. There are no trains here. No people, too. The bench blackens on the platform like a wound. A faint whimper came from under the bench.

A girl is walking along the platform.

She is wearing a thin shirt, but there is no way that she could be cold. The blue tie is fluttering in the invisible wind. She hurries to the bench, bends down, carefully takes out the bundle of robes from there, and opens it, and smiles a little and carefully presses it to her chest.

[zelcii]

love me anyway | peter hayes

peter leaned against the wall, his eyes narrowing as he watched you from across the pit. you were laughing with the others, your smile wide and effortless, but something about the glint in your eyes always seemed bittersweet. it was as if the laughter was a mask, hiding the truth of your candor-born honesty that seeped through every gesture and expression. you could never quite hide the truth seeping behind the way you smiled, another layer of your candor-born honesty peeking out from under every facade you put on. not that it could be helped. the truth bled from the very way looked, very words you breathed. 

he loved it. how you were basically an intricate scrapbook, pieced together by every person who had ever touched your life, every place you had ever belonged to, and every passion that had ever stirred your heart. you were a patchwork of experiences, raw and honest, and he couldn’t help but be drawn to the way you carried all of it so transparently, even when you tried to hide.

he had always been a problem. for many people, but especially for you. you were no stranger to peter hayes, growing eerily familiar to his sharp edges and cruel humor as it had been a constant presence in your life. after all, you were born in the same faction, hung around the same groups of people, followed the same set of rules. even more, your mother had never liked him. since the two of you were young he'd seem to constantly be one second away from breaking whatever—or whoever—it was in front of him. you used to think you hated him for his arrogance. for how cruel he could be, his tendency to belittle the people that cared for him.

but then you chose dauntless. with one swift cut of the ordaining knife, it wasn’t just your tender, naive skin that was cut—it was every tie to the life you once knew. suddenly, peter hayes, the only person you’ve ever despised, became the only constant factor in your life. he was the one unchanging thread that connected you to both your past and present. you tried to forget your life from before, how things were. but it was hard to admit that the only person you could blame was yourself for wanting to leave.

"staring again," christina’s voice sliced through your thoughts, jolting you back to the present. you blinked, reluctantly tearing your gaze away from peter, who was leaning casually against a wall. he was like an island of calm amidst the chaos that spread across the dauntless pit, his posture relaxed and his expression unreadable.

"i wasn’t," you insisted, but the words felt hollow even as they left your lips. your candor was a relentless betrayer, with every twitch of your mouth or flicker in your eyes revealing the truth you tried so hard to conceal. christina’s gaze sharpened with amusement, catching the subtle giveaway in your demeanor.

"right. c’mon, candor," she quipped, her voice tinged with playful sarcasm as she nudged you gently with her elbow. "may the truth set you free," she mocked with a smirk, her tone light but knowing. “you’ve got it bad.”

you shook your head, trying to mount a defense. "i don’t," you said, but your protest lacked the firmness you’d hoped for. peter had been the object of your intrigue since you’d met him in summer camp, the boy that used to look at you with such passion. the boy you promised your mother that you’d never even think of talking to. that undeniable truth seeped through the cracks of your words, finding its way into the spaces you desperately tried to guard. still, from across the room, he stared with that familiar passion.

christina’s grin widened, clearly finding amusement in your discomfort. she followed your gaze back to peter, who remained fixed on you with a knowing smirk. it was as if he thrived on every flicker of attention you gave him, the curve of his lips revealing his awareness. he seemed to relish in the fact that you couldn’t tear your eyes away, savoring the way his presence bothered you.

"besides, he’s a total jerk," you said, your voice trailing off as you tried to mask your uncertainty. the effort to convince yourself sounded more like a feeble excuse than a genuine assertion. you fixed your gaze away from peter, forcing yourself to focus on his flaws—his arrogance, the cruel edge in his humor, the narcissism he wielded with such practiced ease. yet, despite your best intentions, all you could think about was his lingering touch and your stolen glances. you failed at every attempt to distance yourself. it was as if he was fully aware of the internal battle you were waging and took a twisted pleasure in it.

you remembered an instance from a few nights ago.

you’d been crying in the communal bathrooms, the cold tiles beneath you doing nothing to ease the burning sensation behind your eyes. it had been a bad day—training had pushed you to your limit, the weight of your decision to leave candor pressed down hard, and the overwhelming newness of dauntless was closing in from all sides.

the tears had come suddenly, without warning, and once they started, you couldn’t stop them. you didn’t want to cry—not here, not in a place where showing weakness was as good as painting a target on your back. but you were alone, or so you thought, and it had been too much to keep inside.

then you heard the door creak open. you immediately wiped your face, hurriedly trying to compose yourself, when you heard his voice.

"didn’t expect to find you here," peter’s voice was low, casual, but there was an edge to it that you couldn’t quite place. you assumed it was taunting.

your first instinct was defensiveness. after years of being taught to hate him, after years of believing he was nothing but cruel and self-serving, you bristled at his presence. you had no idea why he was here, and the last thing you needed was to deal with peter hayes right now.

“go away, peter,” you muttered, not even bothering to look up at him. your voice came out more bitter than you intended, but you couldn’t help it. it was habit. you’d spent years convincing yourself that he was the last person you could rely on. “i don’t wanna talk to you.”

for a moment, he didn’t say anything. you expected him to leave—maybe with a sharp remark, something that would sting, something that would remind you exactly who he was and why you should stay far away from him. but he didn’t. instead, you felt him sit down beside you, close enough for his presence to be known but not close enough to make you uncomfortable.

he didn’t speak. he didn’t tease or push. he just sat there, quiet, waiting.

you didn’t want to give in. you didn’t want to let your guard down around him, of all people. but the longer he stayed, the harder it became to keep your defenses up. the weight of the day, the exhaustion, and the relentless pressure of everything finally caught up with you. you couldn’t hold back anymore.

before you even realized what was happening, you leaned against him. your body moved on instinct, and you pressed your face into his shoulder, the sobs breaking free as the tears fell hot and heavy.

to your surprise, peter didn’t pull away. he didn’t make a comment or a joke at your expense. instead, his arm came up, hesitating for just a second before wrapping around you. his grip was firm, and he pulled you in close—just enough for you to feel the warmth of his body against yours. he didn’t say anything, didn’t try to pry or ask questions. he just stayed there, silent and steady, letting you cry.

it wasn’t what you expected. peter was supposed to be cruel, detached, distant. but in that moment, none of that mattered. he was just there, holding you together when you felt like everything else was falling apart.

you didn’t know how long you stayed like that, your tears soaking into the fabric of his shirt, your body trembling from the release of everything you’d been holding inside. but eventually, the sobs began to subside, and you found yourself breathing a little easier, the storm inside you starting to calm.

you pulled away slightly, just enough to look up at him, your eyes still red and swollen from crying. “why do you do this?” you asked, your voice small and hoarse from the tears. you genuinely didn’t understand. “why do you… why are you here?”

peter’s eyes met yours, and for a moment, you saw something raw, something unguarded in his gaze. then, with a small, almost playful smirk, he shrugged. “don’t know what you mean,” he said, his voice soft but teasing. “you know i love you.”

the words were so simple, so casually said, that they took you by surprise. but there was no sarcasm in his tone, no bite to his words. he was sincere, leaning in close, his breath warm against your ear as if the words were meant to be a secret shared only between the two of you. then, with a sudden rush of either reckless confidence or desperate longing, he pressed a soft, lingering kiss just behind your ear. the tenderness of it sent a shiver down your spine. “let me be here,” he whispered, his voice low and steady, though it carried a note of quiet vulnerability. he was trying to convey reassurance, but the raw emotion in his voice felt closer to a quiet, earnest plea. 

christina said that that was when you started staring. 

you’d seen a side of him you never thought to imagine and you craved for more. but he was peter hayes. he wasn’t supposed to feel anything. not for you, not for anyone. he tried to convince himself that as well as he savoured the feeling of your soft skin on his lips. yet, there he was, aching for something he couldn’t bring himself to ask for. something that made his heart race every time you was near, something that made him want to push you away and pull you closer all at once. your love.

he turned to you then, his hand brushing yours just barely, but it was enough to make his pulse quicken. you locked eyes, and for a second, and suddenly everything else that happened outside of the bathrooms faded away. he could feel your heartbeat in the air between you, the way your breath hitched, the way you wanted him to say something, anything. but he couldn’t. not yet. so he just sat there, his lips twitching into a smirk, masking everything he wasn’t ready to say.

christina’s expression shifted to one of knowing amusement, her eyebrow arching in a way that made it clear she wasn’t buying your story. "yeah, and yet here you are, still thinking about him. denial is just another form of obsession, you know."

"i am not obsessed," you snapped, a little too loudly. you tried to sound more forceful than you felt. but even to your own ears, the argument wore thin. the truth was, no matter how hard you tried to ignore him, peter had managed to engrave himself into your thoughts, lingering at the edge of your consciousness like an itch you couldn’t quite scratch.

christina’s hand landed on your shoulder, the gesture both comforting and teasing. her eyes held a mix of sympathy and amusement, as if she could see right through your carefully constructed facade. "sure, keep telling yourself that," she said, her tone light but tinged with a gentle sincerity. "but pretending isn’t the same as believing."

you didn’t respond, choosing instead to focus on your hands, which were twisting nervously in your lap. christina wasn’t wrong. the tension between you and peter was undeniable, a magnetic force that seemed to vibrate with an intensity everyone could feel when the two of you were near. 

glancing back at peter, you found him still observing you from across the pit. his gaze cut through the chaotic swirl of faces and noise, landing squarely on you with an intensity that felt almost tangible. it wasn’t just a casual glance; it was as if he was deeply engrossed, his eyes soft and thoughtful, carrying an unmistakable trace of what you dared call admiration. the smirk was gone now, replaced by an expression that seemed to reveal more than he usually let on—a look that made your heart flutter against your will. 

you shifted uncomfortably, unable to shake the feeling that his gaze was dissecting every fragment of your carefully guarded emotions. in that moment, the air between you felt charged, filled with something unspoken that neither of you were ready to confront. and even as you tried to look away, his eyes seemed to follow, holding a soft, thoughtful reverence that you found both disconcerting and oddly comforting.

you reminded yourself that, no matter how warm you felt under his gaze or how infatuated you were with him, peter was still peter—the same boy who had mocked your family’s dedication to order and laughed at others’ missteps under the guise of “honesty.” his usual sarcasm and cruelty were just parts of his carefully constructed facade, a shield designed to guard against any real vulnerability.

but the way he treated you was different now in dauntless. there was always a softness in his gaze, a subtle consideration that contrasted with his usual demeanor. it made you question if beneath his cold exterior, there was a part of him that genuinely cared, revealing a side of him that was far less indifferent than he let on. it made you wonder if he wasn’t as cold as he wanted everyone to believe.

regardless, you knew you would never, in every sense of the word, let yourself fall for peter hayes. he was supposed to be a horrible person.

… but on one particularly exhausting night, after another grueling day of training, you tossed and turned in bed, unable to find any solace in sleep. the unfamiliarity of dauntless gnawed at you, and the weight of leaving candor behind seemed to grow heavier with each passing hour. not that you’d ever blatantly admit it, but the new environment was overwhelming. despite your best efforts to adapt, the relentless pressure was starting to crack your composure.

in the dead of night, you awoke with a start, your heart pounding and a deep sense of unease settling over you. you stumbled out of bed, the darkness amplifying your anxiety as you wandered through the dimly lit corridors of dauntless. just as the silence seemed to stretch endlessly, a soft knock broke the stillness, echoing against the cold concrete walls. there, at the end of the hall, stood peter. he stood as tall as ever, but his touch was unexpectedly gentle. his hand brushed lightly against the small of your back, pulling you a bit closer, and the warmth of his skin contrasted sharply with the chill of the night air. 

though your eyes were still heavy with sleep, you could see the rare softness in his gaze, a stark contrast to his usual demeanor. “hey, sweetheart,” he said, his voice low and raspy, but surprisingly soothing. “you okay?”

“just can’t sleep,” you mumbled, rubbing your tired eyes. you could’ve been meaner, you could’ve tried harder to push him away but you convinced yourself you were too tired to. 

even you knew you were lying. 

without a word, he guided you back to the rooms, his hand resting steady and reassuring on your waist. the warmth of his calloused skin against your arm was comforting, sending a shiver through you. your heart ached to lean more of your weight against him, to feel the full press of his body against yours. each touch felt intensely intimate, grounding you in a way that made your heart race. his calm presence was a soothing contrast to the cold, impersonal walls of dauntless.

as he guided you back to the room, his touch so comforting and warm, memories from your younger years resurfaced.

you recalled how, even then, there was a strange tenderness in the way he interacted with you, though he never showed the same kindness towards others. peter was always rough with the other kids, his teasing and taunting often crossing the line into childish cruelty. 

your mother had noticed, warning you to stay away from him, claiming he was a bad influence. she saw the way he bullied others and feared that his harshness would rub off on you. so, you had learned to hate him, to see only his rough edges and disregard his rare moments of gentleness. now, feeling his warmth and seeing the softness in his eyes, those old judgments felt shaky and uncertain. It must’ve been a trick—a game he was playing. but in that moment you couldn’t bring yourself to care, revelling in the way his skin brushed against yours.

as he helped you settle back under the covers, his touch was deliberate and achingly tender, causing a warm flush to spread through you. you wondered how you managed to muster enough hate to stay far enough away from him. the brush of his fingers against your skin, as he tucked the blankets around you, felt both intimate and possessive, sending a shiver of through your body. each contact, from his fingertips grazing your arm to his palm pressing gently on your shoulder, was charged with a longing intensity.

“you need to rest,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing, nearly a whisper. his gaze lingered on you with a softness that was rare for him. before he turned to leave, he gently swept a few stray strands of hair from your face, his fingers lingering for a moment longer than necessary. “it’s okay to be overwhelmed, sweetheart. we all are.”

you looked up at him, the tenderness of his touch and the care in his eyes sending a rush of warmth through you that made you slightly breathless. his eyes, usually so sharp, were softened by a rare, gentle affection that made your heart flutter. “thanks, peter. you didn’t have to.”

“yeah? well, i did,” he said, a crooked smile playing at his lips, his eyes twinkling with a touch of mischief. he held your hand in his and refused to let go, like he wasn’t ready to leave. you didn't want him to leave. “deal with it.” his voice was smooth, his tone almost too casual, as if the closeness was natural. as if he wasn’t acting completely out of character. his hand remained lingering by your jaw a moment longer than necessary, his touch longing like a secret between you.

you remembered early in high school, when peter had asked you out to the dance and confessed his feelings, saying he loved you. without hesitation, you’d turned him down, following your mother’s wishes. even then, he didn’t seem upset. instead, he simply promised that you’d end up loving him one day.

at the time, you didn't believe him, dismissing his words as just another piece of the game he constantly played. now, as you felt the warmth of his touch and the gentle care he’d shown, you couldn’t ignore the echoes of that past moment. you were falling for him. despite everything, you were falling for him. 

and after all that time, he was right.

“what’s wrong?” he asked, his voice tired, and raspy, but caring. it summoned butterflies to your stomach. he said it like you were the only girl in the world. suddenly, you felt like you were in middle school again, getting flustered over a boy. your mother would be so disappointed.

“I don’t wanna talk ‘bout it,” you said, though your eyes betrayed you as they stayed locked with him. out of a force of habit you continued, “don’t wanna talk to you.” you didn’t mean it, of course.

he let out a tired, amused laugh before bringing your hand up to press a gentle kiss in the palm of your hand. you melted. “i love you anyway.”

threw 3.5k words on a tumblr post and called it a fanfic </3

[infinityroom]

Seconding the thank you!! I hope everything goes well with your projects!

What was the plan for the second Grian?

Were there any characters you had planned to introduce that didn't appear yet?

Were the endermites ultimately good or bad or neither?

Is there an explanation of how the room worked or what it was or how it got there or was there anyone behind it intentionally etc?

Was there an ending planned and what was it?

I love this story, and the format is so cool, secrets hidden in transparent images and galactic to be translated, and I love your art style!! Even though it won't continue, I'm so glad I found this!!

I hope all goes well too! Thank you for following the story! I'm gonna try to make as much sense as possible, but i might end up rabling, I had many things planned. -Elytra Grian was the character you were influencing the most because he was alone with only you to interact with at the beginning. There was a pattern with the Grian's, since he always was the one to make the room there were always a few more of him running around (the reason why I compared him to fireflies in that post I once made comparing all the characters to mobs, there's many of him but you wouldn't see them in the bright light of the room). If he was alone his main goal would always be "find help and get out", if he was with someone his main goal would always be "I need to fix this, I need to get my friends out of here". You can see that way of thinking in our "main" Grian. But Elytra Grian, thanks to the interactions with the asks and then Tango, was gonna behave a lot more like a cornered animal at that point, he wouldn't trust help from anyone, he would only attempt to follow the endermite because it promised an exit.

In my endless attempt to make this a multimedia experience the next main interaction with Elytra Grian would have been a small game. (Let me take the chance to thank my beloved @redstone-sun for Grian's sprite, they are amazing and I love them dearly and I'm so sad you all weren't able to play with their beautiful sprite)

With the game format you would have been fully in Grian's pov instead of interacting with him, being able to fully understand the endermite. Grian would answer the asks questions and speak with the endermite, Cassiopea. (All the endermites are named btw, Tango named each one. The plot relevant ones are Missy, the ear one. Yellow, the one Mumbo has. and Cassiopea.) The game would have had a fixed ending because I was planning on recording gameplay of it for people who wouldn't be able to play it for any reason and I didn't want people to miss out on the main story, but there would have been extra hidden bits for people who could play. Stories Cassiopea could share about previous events in the room and interaction with another Grian, one that had been stuck in the room for so long he'd been left mostly invisible and not really remembering anything anymore (a firefly that you can't see in the light).

The game would have ended with Elytra Grian entering his "egg arc" I like to call it. But I got explain the endermites for that.

-The Endermites are not malicious, but they are creatures born inside the room and become parasites to it to survive. When someone got bit by the endermite they entered their "egg arc" They could either become a parasite to the room or the endermite's meal they would steal from the room. The main requirement I had for that was, whether or not they listened to what the endermite said. Mumbo didn't listen, he shoved his endermite into a chest and pretended it didn't exist. Cassiopea would refer to him as "an egg that refused to hatch" (The reason why one of the old drawings of him had a cracked circle around him, it's his busted egg) . Tango did more than listen, he clung to the endermites with such desperation he became endermite number one. The various sets of powers Tango has are a mix of effects from being an endermite and being in the room for so long, turning invisible is something the room does, and being an endermite lets him control it and not disappear completely. Otherwise, he would just disappear at some point.

-I was never planning on fully explaining the room, but there was no one behind it. It was just an empty, hungry, space somewhere. Creating it left an echo of you behind, It slowly made the echo disappear, starting from the items, that's why having more items was good, there was more before it got to you. There were various effects to being digested by the room, again the most noticeable one would have been Grian since there were many of him, his disappearance would always begin with him being less scared, one of the last things that remain to him is always positive feelings. (The invisible Grian that Elytra Grian could meet in the game would be announced by Grian's actual laughter, I had a clip of it for that reason) Impulse meanwhile, in this story he was part wither! So the room digesting him was slowly taking away the human parts of him, leaving more and more wither. The two heads you guys could see were his wither heads starting to show up. They were gonna be two characters on their own almost, one interested in impulses' own survival, the other interested in actually harming anyone in sight.

-You would have meet the Iskalls soon, aka the meeting fanatics.

There used to be more iskalls, 2 more actually, created by iskall filming his fake meeting in Sahara. I decided to explain that as him entering the room multiple times to record the various bits. Unfortunately they died by False's hands at some point. Along them a Grian and Mumbo also died, by Tango's hand instead, making the remaining Iskalls decide to hide away inside the "walls". The walls were just a separate room they created with all the resources they had, they were just about to build the main building of sahara so they entered the room with full inventories, lots shulkers of bone blocks and many other things among them a few maps of the room to disguise the exterior of it. The room ended up being a meeting room, because "as long as they don't leave the meeting they are safe". They obviously do not like neither False or Tango, but while False actively would hunt them down, Tango doesn't want to bother them. He's already hurt them enough.

There was supposed to be an event before meeting them when reaching the walls. Grian and Mumbo would find "the cemetery" they made left for the other iskalls, Grian and Mumbo. Said cemetery would simply be 2 pickaxes, a sword and a trident left in the ground. The trident being named "Fork of Friendship" would let Grian know that there was another Mumbo at some point. Mumbo wouldn't realize, because he ended up in the room before ever receiving the fork of friendship. The cemetery would then be part of the banner for the blog, just for the extra pain.

-You already kinda met False, but you were gonna see the full mess she is. Absolutely feral, traumatized creature she is.

She had the misfortune of meeting Tango at a really bad time. She ended up almost being completely eaten by the endermites on the spot. The effects of the room plus what happened convinced her that her only way out was to win the war, because that's what it is, is it not? just part of that war? everything will be fine just as long as she wins! Tango feels bad for what he did to her. They are complicated.

She was going to completely break down at the sight of impulse and cling to him for dear life. He would be the only one she recognized as an ally for the first time in years. - For the ending, I'm not sure. I needed to see where you guys would take them. But I would have done my best to get some peace for the characters. They all deserved somewhere soft to land.

[smoochhyuka]

omg can you do soobin nsfw alphabet? im in love with your taehyun work

AHHHHHH!! Thank you so much!! My first commissions, I am so excited I immediately started writing because I took the time to write rn anyway lol. I definitely plan on writing an NSFW alphabet for the other three as well, in the future, but I have three Riize drafts and one Tyun draft rn TT. Feel free to request the next member for the alphabet, or other stuff (prompts, MTL, etc...) for Riize and Tubatu, and I'll get to it as soon as I am able to!

Soobin NSFW alphabet

Baby baby baby baby boy

-> Yeonjun Beomgyu Taehyun Hueningkai

○o。content warnings! NSFW, fem!reader, mention of hair pulling, oral m! and f! receiving, lingerie, edging, perv!Soobin, sex toys, mention of anal (m! and f! receiving), mention of marriage, pussy hair, mention of bondage, very brief mention of derogatory language, edited for spelling

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Immediately asleep, knocks out like a light bulb. He barely manages to pull out and climb off of you, and he's done for. The issue is that you couldn't clean up, either, because he pulls you into a tight hug you can't escape from. More often than not, is condom falls off in the middle of the night because he left it on.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

For himself, he really likes his hair, he thinks fluffy and a little longer hair compliments him so much. Another perk is how obsessed you are with it. The way you sometimes braid his hair while cuddling, how you ruffle it when you call him cute, the way you pull it when he eats you out...

The Soobie Boobie Toobie agenda strikes hard. He loves your boobs, doesn't matter if they're small or big, or if they may sag a little, he doesn't care, as long as you're pushing them up in a cute lace bra every time he takes you out for dinner, for him to look at. <3

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

His cum is very watery, almost completely transparent. He comes kinda... discretely? You never notice he is about to cum unless he tells you. Except for a little leg shake, his composure doesn't change, his breathing doesn't pick up, his pace doesn't increase, his groans don't get louder... He just busts, and you're left there, surprised, cum on your titties...

D = Dirty secret (pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He watched too many dirty animes and watched a few too many thirst traps during 2020 unfortunately... nothing turns him on more than the thought of you in a maid dress, bringing him tea and biscuits and sucking him off under the table, addressing him as Soobin-sama. Will take this dirty secret to his grave!!! (or you just go get drunk with him and ask him about his dirty secrets, will spill anything, guaranteed)

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

No because maybe unpopular opinion but I think he had a girlfriend or two before you. It was never very serious, though, it was just a hormonal teen relationship to get away with fooling around a little bit. Therefore, there are a lot of things he hasn't tried yet.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

He likes every position in which he can see a.) your tits and b.) your face. Missionary and cowgirl are the two top ones, doggy in front of a mirror is also fine and dandy.

G = Goofy (are they more serious at the moment? Are they humorous? etc.)

He tends to be on the more serious side, letting his hot guy persona show. If you're someone who cracks jokes, he will laugh at them, but don't expect any comments in return. He might tease you in a way that could potentially make you laugh, but it's not intentionally a joke. He tends to get more emotional, telling you sweet things or confessing his deeper feelings to you.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? Does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Tends to not care about shaving. He just lets it grow until it's too much for his liking, then he would shave it off completely in one go so he can, again, not care for a few weeks. After a few months of dating he will ask you, very shyly and very embarrassed, how you like it and will adapt from then on.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

In all honesty, I don't see him to be intentionally romantic. He's not someone who lights candles or prepares a bubble bath every time you guys do it. He is unintentionally romantic, though, as already mentioned he turns quite sappy, being romantic in the way he talks to you or handles you. Always asks for consent when trying something new, checking up on you if you get quiet. <3

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

LOVES masturbating together, you two just sit in your bed, fully nude and watch the other. It feels so dirty to him, so intimate in a way regular sex just doesn't feel like. It's also a great way to edge as foreplay, the feeling of sinking into your drenching, sensitive pussy after half an hour of this is as close to entering heaven as it could possibly get.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

I think Soobin is kind of a closeted perv, he'd be into any sort of sex toy, be it for you or for him. If it's late at night, he's barely awake, but you're begging to have sex with him, he won't shy away from using a womanizer on you. The following is husband!Soobin territory right now, but he'd definitely enjoy having a vibrating plug up his ass while fucking you, or being tied up and being edged with a vibrator.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

It's not that he necessarily has an exhibitionism kink, or a specific preference for a place that is not the confinements of your bedroom, it's just that he doesn't care a lot? If he wants it, and you want it, and you're somewhere else, it's not going to stop him really.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Likes it if you're being bold with him. You can either ask him straight up (doesn't need to be phrased sexily, a simple "Let's fuck" is enough to grind his gears) or just walk around in something sexy or just fully nude, he'll follow you like a puppy. Just in general, gets horny when you're horny, and if you're not in the mood, he loses his motivation as well.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

As already mentioned, he won't want to do it if you don't want to, he is not the type to try to change your mind or try to get you horny.

There are barely any no-gos with him, a perv like him will try most things if you're into them (he might even discover new kinks through you). It needs to be something seriously disgusting or illegal to be an instant no.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Prefers receiving by a tinie tiny bit, mainly because he can see your face and boobs while you give him head.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

He is fairly rough, fast and deep thrusts are the standard with him, especially at the beginning of your relationship. If you prefer it slower, you can tell him and he will adapt. It's just that he's excited, you feel so good, he can't help himself. <3 Even if you don't mention anything, he will get more slow and sensual overtime, especially as his feeling for you deepen.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

no.1 fan, the quickie invented itself for him, actually. Tied to what I mentioned during L, if you're both in the mood you'll do it, regardless of location OR your time limit. He's not afraid to be a little bit late to something to be able to pound into your pussy, so be it! Long sex is usually reserved for after dates or special situations, like an anniversary or if one of you is going through a tough time.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Definitely a risk-taker, tied to my very personal perv!Soobin agenda. The worst thing that can happen is a moment of embarrassment and if the sex was good he'd gladly pay that price. The only thing he won't risk though is your relationship, e.g. he won't have a threesome with someone you are close to, or someone he knows has a crush on you. Or something that could hurt you physically (not talking about little bruises, an injury that could drive a wedge between you and him).

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Doesn't have a lot of stamina! If he cums once, it's usually light out with this guy. Sometimes you can squeeze a second one out of him if you're determined, but that's it. He always makes sure that you cum lots, and that you have a good time before he does, because he knows he has bad stamina.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Already mentioned this during K, but yeah, you own every toy in the book. If a new one is currently trending or even completely new on the market, he'll get it ASAP. Of course, you have your favorites that earned their spot in your nightstand, but the rest aren't necessarily collecting dust either.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

A little bit of a tease, might use some lightly derogatory language if you're into that, or denies you an orgasm (or two) but he's not mean in bed, he loves you too much and wants you both to enjoy it. (Besides, he prefers it if you tease him...)

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Groaner! Grunter! Might even whine if you do it right, or if you have been edging for a while. He very rarely moans (aka only with a toy up his ass), therefore he isn't very loud. This beneficial since you fuck in the weirdest places.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Has a thing for pussy hair and thinks it's cute if you shave it in specific patterns or styles. His favorite was the heart you deliberately shaved for Valentine's Day. He also has a certain admiration for a full bush.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Big. Monstrous. Humungus. I have a more detailed explanation here. Lots of foreskin and small balls in comparison.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Fairly high, but he easily adapts to you. He isn't going to pass away if you go a week or two without it, but prefers to do it regularily and tends to miss it easily.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

immediately, snorring like zzzzz. He won't let you leave either, if you need to pee, hold it in!

[consult-sherlockholmes]

Maybe it is time to say something after yesterday evening, @consultjohnwatson. As you all know I am not a man of many words when it concerns sentiment. I despise having to voice anything of such nature, I rather show my appreciation for someone through my actions. I thought my previous actions had clearly represented what I feel, already years ago. But maybe it wasn't clear enough. So expressing any of the following goes against my usual modus operandi, but maybe it is necessary, so I am going to attempt something I never did before. I assumed I had taught you enough about the science of deduction to see and observe. To see what the true meanings behind people’s actions are, what their motivations and intentions are. You are the one of us who is better at such things, better at recognising other people’s emotions, better at interpreting sentiment and determining whether people partake in flirting. So I had believed you would understand my endeavours, sooner or later. But maybe you are not as observant about sentiment when it concerns myself, after all I am not the most emotive and transparent person. Perhaps I will have to be more verbal and clear instead of relying on subtext or your deductions to convey the message. 

I struggle to comprehend and categorise emotional experiences, especially when I don’t have any other data to compare it to. I have never experienced anything akin to ‘love’ before, thus I can not determine whether any new experience would be regarded as such an emotion. I am uncomprehending in the face of the loving, I don’t know how to assess any of such feelings. So I can not say that I am in love, simply because I do not know love. And I think you know that it’s already something special that I am willing to admit that I do not know something.  All I know is that you are the most important person in my life, John. That I appreciate you more than anyone else, I never cared about a fellow human as much as I care about you. That you made me experience a range of emotions that I have never felt before, and you probably made me a better human. You helped me understand things that I would have otherwise never understood, I do value your input, John. I don’t want to contemplate where I would be without you if I had never met you, I probably wouldn’t be here at all anymore. 

What I am trying to say is, be patient with me. Even if I am unable to properly comprehend sentiment, would you be willing to help me understand and find out? Would you be willing to figure it out together? To be my conductor of light?

[kabootarandishaan]

Hear Me

Title: Hear Me

Summary: You have been alone for most of your life. You had depended on skill and odd jobs to survive. One day a campaign hires you for an undisclosed amount of time. You make the acquaintance of a certain eleven vampire and you feel something in you change.

Pairing: Astarion x female reader

A/N: Sorry for not being active! But hopefully, you'll enjoy this

Warnings: Implied smut, light angst 

You were not transparent, at least you never thought you were. But when it came to the continuous sly and sensuous remarks from the likes of a very handsome elven vampire, you scolded yourself at how obvious the heat that spread all across your body showcased itself.

You had never thought of yourself as someone particularly attractive. It wasn’t that you thought yourself to be ugly, you just never had the time nor privilege to make the reckless mistake of having your heartbroken. Your youth was plagued by the need to survive.

You came from squalor, the lack of wealth and reputation amongst your family forced you to become resourceful from a young age. No one ever cast a second glance at the girl whose clothes were always worn and torn.

Your time was constantly being consumed with finding odd jobs to provide. It carried over into your adolescence. You were teased and isolated from others your age on account of your status and disheveled appearance. 

Eventually, you were able to garner some sense of stability. You never pawned off hygiene though. Even if your garments were worn, you took your time in cleaning them. You would wash the dirt or sweat vigorously from your body after any rigorous job. 

Soon enough, you grew to become a full-fledged adult. Your consistent uptake of laborious tasks through your youth had left you with quite some endurance. Eventually, you opted to take on a kind of pay-for-hire type of lifestyle. 

You would go from town to town boasting about your experience in many fields, and how you could complete most tasks for a simply meager fee. Whether it was more domestic like cooking or cleaning, or more discreet tasks such as spying or sleuthing, there was not much you denied.

That is exactly what allotted you to be hired onto this campaign. It seemed your reputation as a jack of all trades had preceded you, unbeknownst to you, to the point where now people were seeking you out. 

Which is why, when you were approached by Astarion and his companions to join them on their journey, you were surprised at the revelation he sought you out by name. Of course, you were skeptical at first.

Considering your harsh upbringing it was normal for you to be wary of everyone, especially someone as sly-mouthed as the pale elf. However, seeing the temperament and plight of the others convinced you to slightly lift your guard, plus they were paying you.

So, you joined the troop and quickly learned more about their terrifying conundrums involving mind flayers and demon contracts. You could not help but sympathize with their desperation, recalling all the times you groveled for morsels due to your poverty.

You mostly stayed to yourself, you had not had the privilege to rely on anyone for a majority of your life, and it translated to how you carried yourself socially. Attention was not something you particularly liked especially when it came from men or people who seemed to have ill-intentions.

You had undertaken quite some traumatizing tasks at times out of desperation. You would often recall how cruel and harsh some people had been when they felt entitled to perfection from you. You had the scars to remind you to be wary.

He was like you in that way, you quickly learned. The pale elf had undergone torment and suffering that constantly plagued his thoughts. You realized he hid his pain with cynicism and flirtations. But you noticed something quite early on.

Maybe it was because like sought like but you swore you would hear something else behind his words. Under the guise of shameless flirtations or mock insults, it seemed to be there. You weren’t sure exactly what it was if you were honest, a cry for help, deep longing, you weren’t sure.

Your tasks were quite varied from the moment you got hired by the group. It was a combination of navigator/sleuth/domestic helper if you were to give it some kind of name. When you were not in the midst of some near death confrontation you would prefer to simply help around the camp.

Everyone was kind, for the most part. You had quickly become acquainted with Shadowheart and Karlech on account of finding solace within other well-spoken and strong women. You would often find yourself passing time with them. But nowadays you could not ignore how his lingering became increasingly obvious.

At first, it was Karlech’s teasing that forced you to give it any attention. “It’s kind of nice that whenever I need to find you, I could just follow Astarion’s trails. He always leads me right to you.” Then it was Shadowheart’s irritated quips, “You know it would probably be much more productive if you actually added to these conversations instead of aimlessly staring at Y/N for their entirety.”

He would roll his eyes or respond with some sort of innuendo of how he couldn’t help himself on account of how delicious you looked. You would never admit it but you couldn’t help the effect his words had on you.

He was easily one of the most attractive men you had come across and despite his guarded demeanor, you knew he was simply someone who wanted to be heard. That was one thing you knew you were especially good at. 

Having to find any means to survive meant you had to be extremely aware and conscious of the things going on around you. Knowing who required what, where, and how you could provide meant your longevity.

So you decided that this would be no different, you would not only listen but try and hear him. You would initiate interactions with him if he were amongst your group. You would talk to him one-on-one, getting to know a bit more about the elusive vampire spawn.

You could tell how he was caught off guard initially but to say he did not enjoy your attention would be an obvious lie. Eventually, he revealed to you the cause of the constant pain you saw behind his eyes.

In turn, you showed him your own scars and lamented to him about how horrible and cruel the world had been to you. After that day something changed, no longer did he taunt or tease you with innuendos or crass insults. 

The others noticed how different he was when he was with you. The softness in his gaze, the small smiles he’d give when you spoke about something with interest. You evoked a side of his they would never get to see in their entire lives.

Had you known that what you began as an attempt to comfort would soon morph into something else entirely you probably would have stopped yourself. But now, it was getting harder and harder to hide the fact that you enjoyed it too.

The softness, the light, the interest that he showed you in response to nearly everything you said or did. It made your heart flutter, you scolded yourself for behaving like a schoolgirl with a young crush. 

You were terrified though, terrified that if you said those things out loud it would all shatter. You had experienced little moments of preciousness in your life already. You could not get yourself to risk this, you were not strong enough to deal with losing the feelings he gave you.

But the more you two did not address the obvious tension that had settled between you, the more it only served to urge frustration. You knew he was too much like you. He was scared to admit his true feelings.

His feelings of inadequacy stemmed from the torture he faced at the hands of Cazador. He had no idea how to be with you in the way you both so desperately desired. He was just as nervous about ruining it as you.

So soon enough he tried to turn back, back into the flirty, sensuous Astarion he once was. Going into town and humoring the women of the red-light districts. He was trying to distance himself from you, saving the both of you from whatever he had created in his mind.

Your heart broke at the sight, you played it off when the others asked saying that you had never even mentioned the prospect of being with him in any way. He was free to do whatever he wanted to with whomever he wished. What was the relationship between the two of you to even feel hurt?

But after months of inconsistencies, the nights where he would come to you and softly ask you about how you were and then the next day shack up in some tavern with anyone, you couldn’t take it. 

You watched him in the pub tonight speaking to some handsome half-elf. Your jaw clenched as he leaned in and spoke something into his ear making the other man laugh. You got up and made your way over slamming your hand on the bar.

“I am so sorry for interrupting this but I very desperately have to have a very important conversation with the man you are trying to fuck.” You say looking apologetically at the half-elf man.

He raises his brow before giving a curt nod and walking away. You turn to Astarion to find him looking at you with surprise. You kept to yourself and hated unnecessary confrontation so this was out of character for you.

You looked at him and gave a small sigh, “Can I speak to you outside?” He looks at you with both brows raised but seems to have an idea of what you want to say to him. He slowly follows you out of the pub.

“I…I am in love with you!” He looked at you wide-eyed completely taken aback by the abruptness of your confession. Before he has the chance to respond you hold a finger up to signal you weren’t finished. 

“I think it was when you were going on about how vain you were despite not being able to see yourself. Although you were trying to hide it with sarcasm, I knew that your upkeep was partially fueled by the desire to have some control over yourself.” You paused before continuing.

“Before I met you, I never entertained the idea that I could be with someone. I was terrified of getting hurt and being abandoned after giving so much of myself to someone. But when I was with you, I couldn’t help but crave the feelings you invoked from me. You made me feel safe, and warm, Astarion.”

“I know that you felt things for me too but you were scared that you wouldn’t be able to be with me because of the things Cazador had done to you. I tried to be okay with the morsels you gave me from time to time, I was used to living like that I thought I could adjust.” Your voice cracked as you continued

“But you messed that up too! You gave me more than enough and now I cannot go back to morsels! I want you! I want to be with you! I want to be the only one for you! Please, can we at least try! I can’t watch you be with anyone else anymore it is tearing me apart!” You admit as tears begin to fall down your face.

Astarion looks at you with a frown. His heart hurts and he feels guilty for being the reason for your pain. He slowly cups your face with his hands and runs his thumbs over your cheeks trying to wipe away the tears. 

He justified his behaviors through the thought that he was protecting you, when in reality he knew he was simply running. Running from the fear of failure, from the fear of ruining what little peace existed between you and him, But he knew he couldn’t run forever, maybe this was it.

His sign to move on. The true test to rid himself of the horrible trauma that had cemented itself in his mind from Cazador. He was scared but through your words, he realized that he wasn’t alone. You were just as nervous, as anxious as him.

He leaned in and spoke softly gently trying to calm you down. “I never wanted to hurt you, darling. I was running from my feelings, from yours because I didn’t know if I could love you the way I thought you needed. I thought I was saving you but I ultimately ended up doing the one thing I feared most. Forgive me for my foolishness, my love.”

You continue to sob as you hear his apology. “I know you are scared, but I am too. But I know that if we both want it as bad as I know we do, we could make this work. Will you at least try with me?” You plead to him through your sniffles.

He looks at you for a moment before answering. You see the same small smile that has adorned his features so many times before. The smile he gives is as if he is admiring something so beautiful, so precious, the one that made your resolve crumble and your heart flutters for the first time in your life.

He runs his thumb over your soaked cheek once more before planting a soft kiss against your forehead. “Okay. I Astarion Ancunín will try, try to show you the love you deserve. I will try to keep the smile that you seem to only save for me on your face for as long as you are. I will try to show you just how much your kindness and compassion mean to me by protecting this precious bond we have. I will try.” He says to you softly.

You give him a teary smile and wrap your arms around him. Your chin resting against his shoulder as you cling to him. He rubs his hand up and down your back and turns slightly so his lips graze the curve of your ear. “I am also hopelessly in love with you, darling.” 

You pull back and smile feeling elated at his confession, knowing it was not easy for him to admit such a thing. Your sobs had been reduced to the occasional sniffle and he slowly pulled you in. “I must apologize in advance for this but you look absolutely divine even after you’ve been a sobbing mess.” He chuckles lightly.

You give him a smack on his shoulder only eliciting another light chuckle. You slowly look up at him again and raise a hand to rest against his face. You slowly run your fingers through his hair, your thumb catching a few curls.

His eyes flit from your eyes to your lips and he looks at you as if silently asking. You let out a small giggle and respond by leaning in to close the gap. The kiss is soft and gentle allowing the tension and heartbreak of the many torturous months to dissipate.

You pull back and see a mischievous look across his red eyes. “You know you stopped me right when I was about to get some action after a while. I feel like it’s only fair for you to compensate me for my loss, my love.”

You frown as you recall his attempt to bed the half-elf from earlier. He notices and his expression softens. “I was only teasing, darling. That was careless of me to-” You cut him off by dragging him by the arm, through the streets to the nearest inn you see.

You barge in and place some coins on the counter. “One room for the night.” You say as you avoid Astarion’s gaze. You know your face is burning but you are too far in to turn back now. You only hear an amused laugh beside you.

The innkeeper raises a brow but proceeds to take the money and give you a key her movements are swift and precise likely as a result of her many years of seeing things like this. You continue to walk silently towards the room. You could feel Astarion’s gaze burning into the side of your face.

Right before you are about to turn the handle after unlocking the door, Astarion holds your wrist. “My love, we don’t have to do anything. Please, I want you to understand that all I need from you is your love. I don’t need you to feed some carnal lust.” He says eyeing you.

You sigh and place a hand over his. “I know that. I want to do this with you Astarion.” You say to him your gaze unwavering. He raises your hand to his and gives it a chaste kiss. He gives you a small nod.

You are beaming as you enter the room hand in hand. You are nervous but you are confident in your love. You were ready to take this step, for you although it was new, you wanted this with Astarion.

Clothing discarded slowly, piece by piece, he gently pushed you till the back of your legs hit the bed frame. “You are easily the most beautiful person I have ever had the pleasure to be with, my love.”

You feel your body flush at hearing his compliment you look away. He gently grabs your chin and turns it back to him. “Let me show you exactly how a woman like you deserves to have their mind, body, and soul worshipped.” He whispers before pulling you in for a kiss.

That night he walks you through so many unforgettable firsts. By the time dawn approaches, you are panting, trembling, and exhausted. He holds your spent body gently as he caresses your hair, praising you for how well you did.

As you inevitably drift off into sleep you can’t help but feel an overwhelming wave of contentment wash over you. You never thought this would ever be a possibility due to the lifestyle you were forced to take on.

Yet here you were, in the arms of a man who had promised to cherish and love you. You smiled as you pressed your body closer to his. To think that your skill of listening would pay off to this extent amused you.

You slowly felt yourself succumb to exhaustion with a smile on your face.

[rei-ismyname]

X-Men/Mutant Dynasties

Something I've always felt uneasy about is when offspring of Marvel mutants basically inherit their mutant gift 1:1. The X Gene (though I don't love that either) is supposed to be a naturally but randomly occurring thing in humans that causes them to develop a strong mutation. In many cases, a superpower as opposed to six toes. I'm sure people experience such minor mutations as well but it's not due to the X Gene.

A character that exemplifies the my dislike of this is Raze, the alternate reality/'future' child of Wolverine and Mystique. Them existing in a pretty ridiculous era with a constant nostalgia recycling is a factor too.

This idiot. He literally just has both parents gifts - shapeshifting, claws, and a healing factor. Keep in mind those are metal claws too - something Logan doesn't have biologically. Maybe it's a Mystique thing and she's like a ditto in Pokémon breeding because her kid with Xavier is this chump.

It's just Charles Xavier again! I'll admit part of the dislike is them featuring in such mediocre, unimaginative stories, and they're pretty transparent Nostalgia bait. Has it lead to good stories? I don't think so, not as a critical element. Could you honestly tell me what either of these idiots' motivation is without looking it up?

Also, I think taking the randomness out of it just leads to eugenics and bioessentialism - a place the x books should not go, or at least not have nominal heroes doing it. Leave it to Mr Sinister.

Mutant trait inheritance has been around since almost the beginning. Polaris has Magneto's powers but weaker, Siryn has *similar* powers to Banshee, Nightcrawler looks like Mystique (though that makes sense through retcon. Shit, maybe she IS a Ditto.) On the flip side, there's even more Mutants that inherited none of their parents' mutation.

IRL Mutation is supposed to be, well not random per se, but the result of damage to genes. In our universe it's neither a good thing nor bad thing. In 616 it's pretty muddled tbh. I'm not a scientist - I'm a writer, so I'm not going deep on something that doesn't have internal consistency. I'm always going to dislike thin characters trying to evoke familiarity through mashing two iconic ones together, but it's more than that. What's the source of my discomfort then?

Yeah, it's the eugenics. HoxPoX actually took it further, revealing that Moira and Charles intentionally sought to breed reality warpers, to the point of researching partners that would give the desired result. They were successful too, resulting in Proteus and Legion, two of the most powerful mutants alive. The ethics of these actions aren't editorialised but I think they're meant to be read as horrifying - especially when you consider the context of the 'pairings' and the lives these poor kids have had. Maybe it's not so surprising Xavier views David as a weapon and Moira seems to hate Kevin. It makes Chuck and Moira look terrible.

Pic unrelated, I just wanted to break up the text and what better than Beatnik Namor?

The superbaby schemes never come to light and they're not really punished for being shit parents. Certainly not socially. I'd love a book where they were, but the time has kinda passed. Maybe the fairy tale morality of big two comics doesn't have the framework or the desire to explore it, though I think that if you're going to put eugenics in your fiction you probably should.

I've been sitting on this draft for months because I feel like I don't have the knowledge or vocabulary to explore it properly. I'm probably missing something. I've decided it's been edited and rewritten enough and I'm posting it as is, so if you have any thoughts on this I'd love to hear them. Join the conversation!

[minniethemoocherda]

You Are The Weapon I Choose: Chapter 1

A/N: Thought I'd celebrate the release of Deadpool & Wolverine with my take on introducing Laura to X-Men 97! I haven't seen the movie or even the last few trailers so no spoilers in the comments please! And thank you so much @pkmndaisuki for being my beta for this fic, they were so helpful!! Xxxxxxx

Ao3

"I don't like this," Logan grumbled. "Too quiet for what Cooper was sayin' this was."

Morph was inclined to agree.

Dr Cooper had uncovered intel that indicated that a supposedly abandoned laboratory in Mexico was experimenting on mutant children. Since she didn't have the clearance to send in any US personnel without causing an international incident, she called on the help of the X-Men.

And, well, rescuing mutant children was an X-Men speciality.

At least it should have been, but so far there had been a definite lack of mad scientists and kidnapped kids.

"Can't hear any guards either," Logan added, scanning the halls. "Oughta be way more security."

"I agree. This whole thing reeks," Cyclops noted. "Keep your com lines open. Storm, you and I will check the east wing. Wolverine, you and Morph make a sweep of the west. Rouge and Jean, stand by."

Morph nodded, and the team split their search.

They transformerd one of their arm's into that of Glob's, the pink glow of his transparent skin lighting the way down the dark corridors. Not that there was much to see. The walls and doors were completely blank. No name plaques. No door numbers. Not even an out of date fire alarm poster.

Suddenly Logan stopped in his tracks beside them.

"What is it?" They asked.

"Gunfire." He pointed at one of the unassuming walls. "Over there."

Morph nodded, switching their Glob arm to that of the Hulk and smashed through.

Whatever Morph had been expecting to find the opposite side of that wall, it definitely hadn't been this. It felt like an entirely different building. Instead of a gloomy dark, the room they'd broken into was a harsh white. The tiled walls were almost too clean, like they had been scrubbed of any past proof that anyone had ever even breathed in there. There wasn't even a visible door. The only thing of note was the chains bolted into the corner.

This was a cell, Morph relised with a sinking sensation of dread in their stomach. The place reminding them of the tube that Sinister had kept them locked up in.

"Come on," Logan growled, the room no doubt reminding him of his own past imprisonment. "This way."

They smashed through a couple more walls. Each of the rooms had same eerie emptiness to them. Even the labs that had some colour variation to them, with their various vials, felt completely stark.

Morph was not smart enough to know what any of those labs were for but whatever it was, they knew it definitely wasn't for anything good.

They turned the corner and froze, the sight stopping them in their tracks.

"Logan." Morph gasped. 

A woman with dark hair and eyes, dragged herself across the floor, her light brown skin splattered with bullet holes. Near the beginning of her trail of blood, Morph spotted two more bodies. Both wore the matching uniforms of soldiers. And they both had matching syringes sticking out of their necks.

But that wasn't what made Morph freeze. That was the sight of the girl in the tank beside her.

The girl was suspended in what Morph first thought was water but on closer inspection appeared to be something murkier. Morph wasn't great at guaging children's ages but this girl couldn't have been over the age of ten. She twitched in her slumber, perhaps trying to fight back against whatever those tubes were punping into her body to keep it forced in unconsciousness. But the most shocking thing of all was that pertruding from the knuckles of her balled fists were twins sets of metal claws.

However Morph didn't have time to think about that right now. Instead they rushed to the woman's side, shifting as many arms as they could as they did their best to stop the bleeding. Which was made all the harder by the woman trying to push herself up.

"You need to stay still." Morph told her but she just shook her head.

"P-poison." The woman gasped pointing at the girl, leaving a bloodied stain as she tried to grab a console attached to the tank.

Morph elongated their neck, desperately searching the console screen, hoping to find a 'stop poison' button. But Logan went straight for the jar, his claws slashing through the glass.

The tank shattered. Morph borrowed Colossus' metalic skin to sheild the woman from the rainstorm of glass whilst Logan caught the girl before she could crash onto the concrete floor. Morph watched as Logan cradled her in his arms, careful not to hold her too tight as if she too was made of glass. Through the whites of his mask, Morph could see a rare glint of fear in The Wolverine's eyes.

"Who the hell is she?" Logan demanded, even though they all knew the answer.

"Laura." The woman breathed through a blood stained smile.

It was the last breath she took.

[tma-reader-inserts]

Jonathan Sims x Spiral Avatar! Reader

Knowing Jonathan Sims was… an experience. When you first met him, you were just giving a statement.

You knew he didn’t believe you at all. To be fair, you were blazingly high when the experience happened, and high when you gave your statement.

While smoking with some of your friends, you stumbled upon an old book your father, who you hated, had collected before he died. You hated that book, you hated the ominous air it gave off, how your father obsessed over it, how he mumbled passages from the book, sketch fractals on every surface in the house, and hit you with the leather cover whenever you invited his rage. You tried burying it, but somehow it always came back to your coffee table. You never even bothered to read the words on the almost transparent-it-was-so-thin pages. You hated that stupid book as much as you hated your shitty father.

So you found the stupid book, and told your friends that you couldn’t even get rid of it it; and as one of them flip through the pages, they mention how similar they were to rolling papers.

… and well, didn’t that give you a novel idea.

Page after page, after your friends left, you slowly tore and filled and rolled the thin sheets of the book, lighting up until you couldn’t even lift your head. For months, you slowly decreased the thickness of the book until only half the pages and the leather cover with that stupid stamp of “Leitner” was left.

Well and all; but each time you lit up, you saw things. Normally, when you were high, you were just relaxed, slow moving and thinking and caring; a giggling, hungry mess that rolled around on the floor and dozed in and out of consciousness. But whenever you smoke with the pages from the book, thing were different.

Shadows from the corner of your eye moved and pulsed, you heard low whispers from every direction of the room. The worst of it was all the doors you saw. So many doors that didn’t belong in your house. The curiosity to open them, to trapeze through those rooms and halls, was staggering. You were always of such low motivation, to feel the so much desire to do something (beside getting high and sleeping) was unusual. However, you were too stoned to move, so you never actually entered a door. Even when a tall thin woman in a wacky business suit threw the door opened and tried to coax you in; even when a creature resembling a man with endlessly curling blonde hair sits with you and speaks nonsense at you as you tried to comprehend your surroundings.

Whenever you did come down, things wouldn’t just return to normal; there was always a stray door that would taunt you; the sound of the man laughing ringing in your ears.

When you gave your statement, you couldn’t really give a damn about the circumstances. You were seeing weird shit, and the Magnus Institute was for telling people about weird shit that was seen. Did you care that you were going insane? Not a bit. You father went crazy when he got that book, god knows what got into your mother to copulate with the man, and you reckon that your entire lineage was severely fucked in the head. You self medicated to cope, what choice had you? Seek professional help? Open yourself up bloody and raw to a stranger who was paid to give you fake platitudes and a low grad prescription for mania? Absolutely not. And frankly you were more taken to the effects of marijuana rather than alcohol or any other kind of drug.

So yes, you were high when you went to the Institute to give your statement. And Mr. Sims was less than impressed by your antics. In fact he more or less chewed you out entirely in the privacy of the archive room. It amused you greatly; as he yelled at you about ‘decorum’ and ‘self-pride’, you could only muse about how badly you wanted to see this man specifically as high as a kite and zoned out, drooling on your couch as you combed your fingers through his pretty, curly brown hair. You smirked at the mental image, which only seemed to enraged him further.

After you left the place, however, things had gotten… much worse.

As soon as you got home, you got blitzed off your ass. Despite whenever you used the paper from the book things got super weird, that didn’t exactly stop you from continuing from doing it. Sure, you saw unexplainable things, but you weren’t one to waste paper.

You supposed the reason why you liked being high was the surrender. The passing of responsibility of your thoughts and actions unto something else. To completely give yourself up for a few hours and not be for that time; to be consumed by the buzz of nothingness and allow yourself the high of not thinking straight. There’s a sort of control in losing control to something else.

Maybe that’s why you changed.

It was subtle at first. You noticed your highs lasted much longer than they normally did; soon you weren’t even consuming any of your stash, you were just perpetually buzzed. Then you noticed you could control how high you were exactly, after one instance where you were annoyed with being numb everywhere; suddenly you were almost entirely sober. Still a little high though.

Your biggest discovery was that you could intoxicate others. While you were at a club, you kissed another party-goer in the alley by the club, and you watched in fascination as his pupils dilated immediately and he fell to the ground, silently screaming and clawing at his face. Between his terror you could understand him saying something about feeling bugs in his skin. The knowledge that you caused this sunk into your hazy brain with a rush of excitement and pride. You did this. You reduced some boring, straight laced business man on holiday into a pathetic writhing mess, so high out of his mind that he was truly panicking, probably for the first time in his life; he was truly afraid.

And the fun of doing that, scaring people, far outweighed the joy of being high.

Being high was still super fun, though.

By the time you polished off smoking the pages of the book, you were certain you weren’t totally human anymore. Maybe human adjacent. You were at some point, for certain, but now you were something else. Similar but distinctly different from before.

You took great joy in terrorizing others. You tried being careful at first; most people just assumed they were drugged, or whatever substance they took was laced. Then you got reckless, you supposed. One of your victims, a college boy who was a friend of a friend, who was lured back to your car to scare him through a drug haze, went to the Magnus Institute.

Apparently, even though the idiot young man was already high when you met him, he remembered your face quite clearly, and was insistent that his encounter with you was ‘supernatural’ purely because there was no physical way he could have gotten that out of touch with his senses.

Now, you have minor control over what your victims hallucinate. Usually, whatever was in the recesses of their mind was enough to scare them, but the stubborn ones required some… direction. With that college boy, you managed to convince him he ate rotten meat from an alley way, that there were maggots and bugs and all sorts of diseases crawling around in his guts, in his skin, when in reality you never even left your car until he became so terrified he was rendered unconscious.

You thought your original visit to the Institute was written off; you were certain there was no way Jonathan Sims bothered to remember your face, let alone your name. But there you were, once again in the same recording room as last time, after one of Sims’s meekish assistants contacted you for a “follow up”.

You should’ve known it was a trap to confront you. But in your defense, you didn’t think the archivist was smart or ballsy enough to pull a stunt like that. Yet, here you were, once again being glared down at, with a written statement from the boy you’re tormented in front of you.

“Well?” Jon asks, one bushy eye brow raised in annoyance.

“Well indeed.” You reply, scanning the page once more. “Sounds like this lad had a hell of a trip, some people can’t handle their substances.”

This only seemed to anger the man. “The person he describes sounds an awful lot like you. Even some of your mannerisms and ticks were mentioned. Are you denying this is you?”

You laugh. You couldn’t help the sound from breaking through your teeth.

“It is you, isn’t it.” He accuses.

“Who it is, and who it isn’t, aren’t the problem Sims…” you drawl, throughly amused. “The real problem is you’re believing the accounts of some pot head. What happened to the ineffable skeptic I met months ago?”

He flinches, and you note the movement with great interest. “… I should have believed you about the doors.” He mumbles. “When you came in, I shouldn’t have written you off so quickly, least of all belittle you like that.”

It was your turn to quirk your eyebrow. “I’m getting the feeling you met Micheal, then?”

With shame, he looks away, and you sigh.

“Tell you what…” you say slowly, tongue heavy from the feeling of intoxication. “… I’ll give you another statement, but just for us. Just for you.”

Intrigue paints his features.

“No one else, not even your assistants, not your boss, gets to hear about this. Just you, only for you.”

Now he looks at you in scrutiny. “What do you get out of the exchange?”

A wild smile pulls across your face. “I wanna get you blitzed out.”

“Good lord.” He groans.

“Come on!” You laugh. “I’ll take you to my place-“

“No.”

“We do a little hash-“

“Absolutely not.”

“And I’ll give you an explanation to the weird shit I can do!” You exclaim. “I’ll give you full details, I’m not dodgey about questions like Micheal is, I can give it to you straight!”

“You are aware that the consumption, distribution, and possession marijuana is illegal in the United Kingdom?” He hissed, scandalized.

“Duh; that’s what makes doing it even more fun.” You explain, amused. “You asked what I wanted out of my statement, I told you.”

He huffs. “How is me getting high going to benefit you?”

You never found a point in being dishonest to pretty men. “I think you’d look cute dazed out of you mind.”

“Wha-what?”

You shrug. “You’re pretty, and I think you’d be prettier high, and I wanna see it.”

Jon flushed, tan skin becoming tinged with red. His upper teeth dug into his bottom lip, and his eyes darted away from you so quickly you almost heard them snap. “That is- you can’t just say-“

“You found a way to contact me before; use that method to contact me again when ever you decide on what you want to do.” Standing from your chair, you see the archivist take a small step towards you, almost as if to stop you but he thought the better of it.

You open the door, and before you ascend the steps, you look at the pretty book worm one last time.

“And for the record, whatever that little shit smoke up with was stolen from me. He deserved it. I probably scared him straight anyway, you should be thanking me.”

“That doesn’t make what you did right.” Jon snipes back.

You shrug, unconcerned. “I don’t care about what is right or not, Sims.” You level him with a blank look, allowing a haze to permeate through your conscious. “I hardly care about anything at all.”

And with that, you left.

—

It took a grand total of two weeks before Jon Sims contacted you directly. You were pleased as peach to answer your phone, hoping it was the pretty and emotionally surly archivist.

He had agreed to meet you under your circumstances, and you could help the giggle that leaked into the receiver when he spoke. He talked like an old man, it entertained you ceaselessly. You wondered if he even would be able to keep his bookish facade while high. You hoped not; to see Jonathan Sims at a loss for words would be delightful.

Later that evening, upon your doorstep, in a comfortable brown and grey cardigan, was Jonathan Sims. He seemed nervous, tightly gripping his tape recorder and note book as he stepped into your home.

Honestly your house was a wreck. It’s been in your family for generations, and no one in your bloodline has ever really cared about cleaning up after themselves, yourself included. Did it look like a trap house? Probably; but you could get to the kitchen, your couch, and your bed; so unless something was in your path it was ignored. Jon eyes the trash in the corners of your home, but said nothing unkind.

Sitting him on the couch, you leave only to return less than a minute later, holding a small pastry.

“Is that… a marijuana brownie?” He asks, eyes the confection with anxiousness.

You laugh boisterously, shocking him. “It’s called a pot brownie and you damn well know it, Sims.” Sitting next to him, you unwrap the napkin. “Ten milligrams would be too much for your first time, and five I don’t think would really do anything but take your edge off, so I split the difference to seven. It’s what I started out on and it’ll do just fine.”

He stared down at the piece of brownie with dread, and as he tried to reach for it you pulled it away.

“Hey now.” You warn, frowning, “Do you actually want to do this?”

He scowls. “I’m here aren’t I? Besides, what choice have I?”

It was your turn to scowl now. “If you really don’t want to do this I’ll find another way to make us even. It’s no fun being high against your will.”

He eyes you with an annoyed expression. “Isn’t that what you do to people?”

“Yeah, ‘cus they’re assholes who don’t deserve a nice experience. I’m trying to give you a nice experience.”

“So you target people you deem unworthy to torment?” In the silence of the room, you hear the ever so faint sound of something turning. Has he been recording you this entire time?

You roll your eyes. “I’ll spill my guts soon, Jon, don’t jump the gun. Do you actually want to get high or not.”

He seems to battle with himself for a long moment before nodding. “… I really wanted to try it in college… but I didn’t have any… connections…”

You breathe a laugh. “You didn’t have enough good friends who knew where to get a stash, huh?”

He mumbles something like a, “shut up.”

“Aw, baby-“ you croon, a hand reaching up to pet at his hair. “It sucks to be left out, huh? Never lived up to the traditional college experience? Don’t worry, honey, I’ll fix that right up; you’re in good hands.”

Finally you bring the brownie piece back into reach. “Don’t eat more than this for now; anymore and you’ll be fucked rightly.” You warn.

Nodding, Jon gently takes the piece from your outstretched hand. Grimacing one last time, he places the entire bite size piece into his mouth, and slowly chews.

“It tastes strange.” He complains.

“There’s weed in it, precious.”

“Not that; you didn’t sift the flour when you made these, did you?”

You throw your head back laughing. Oh this was going to be delightful.

—

Forty minutes in and Jon’s head was in your lap as he stared blankly up at the ceiling. Humming, you combed your fingers through what you could of his hair.

“You doing alright, pretty boy?”

A sound comes from his throat, and you know it was a half hearted attempt to respond.

The best course of action, you decided, was to remain as sober as you possibly could be, to be there for Jon during this new experience. After about twenty minutes, his speech began to slow, and by the thirty minute mark, he asked to lie down.

One of his hands held yours, leaving his other hand limply on his stomach.

“You’re doing such a good job, Jon.” You whisper. “You’re doing so well.”

He whimpers, turning his face into your stomach as his skin once again alights with a blush. Removing your hand from his mane, you rub your thumb against the small circular scars along his cheek bone.

“I can’t feel my face.” He complains, high and breathy.

You hum again. “You never are able to feel your face, you’re just actually feeling it for the first time right now, you’re hyper aware of it.”

He groans again, longer, annoyed. “Shh, I don’t want to think.”

“All right, sweet heart,” you say sweetly, “It’s normal to feel things like that. You’re doing just fine.”

“… I can feel all my skin at once, then. And my head feels like a pillow.”

Biting back a laugh, you resume stroking his hair.

“Can you feel through hair? I can feel my hair.”

“Boy, just wait until you start watching trippy movies like this. ‘The Cell’ is gonna be great.”

He groans again. “I don’t want to watch anything, I can barely keep my eyes open.”

“Close them, then, sweetheart.” You coax. “No shame in it, do what feels nice right now.”

At your encouragement, he curls into almost entirely. He moans again, nestling his face into your stomach. You try not to laugh at the sensation of his vibrations tickling your skin through your clothes. “Please keep talking…” he mumbles, “Your voice is nice…”

This time, you did chuckle. Normally, you were amused by everything, but this especially entertained you. “I think your voice is nicer, I could listen to it for hours.”

Jon’s head swivels so he could peer up at you. “Please, no one wants to hear me prattle on about my statements or, or my theories on them.”

Working on a particularly difficult knot in his hair, you hum. “I know I would, who knows, those statements seem to be pretty interesting, a bunch of cool stories to listen to.”

“Right, the trauma of others are interesting.” Sarcasm drips from his lips.

“Well, everyone loves a good scary story.”

Jon sighs and returns to nestling your stomach. You ponder his earlier request and speak. “Your recorder going, yeah?”

The man’s hand slides away from his face and fumbles around beside you until his hands grip the device and presses a button, the sound of faint whirling enters the air.

You introduce yourself to the device, stating your name and occupation, and just began talking. You spoke of your father and his beatings, about the terrible book, when your drug habit started and progressed into what you are now. How you feel powerful picking out certain people to torment, finally taking back the dominance your father stole from you. You muse about Micheal and Helen, and about the doors, the connection between you and the disconnection from reality. You end your statement with a shrug, saying something along the lines about how your humanity is a choice you constantly make, but if you wanted you could abandon it easily.

When you finish and look down, you see Jon is asleep. He is warm and heavy in your lap, he is snorting softly, and he look truly and deeply at peace.

Reaching your hand into the tangle of Jon’s fingers, you turn off the recording device. As you stare at the man, you feel a dopey smile stretch across your features. Maybe, for right now, you’ll be on better behaviour. If for nothing more than to keep Jon near you.

[cherr-22]

TNGDH 29

Plop. My body fell and rolled over the thick pile of sawdust. I sprawled out on the floor and sighed.

‘Thank god for the Summon.’

If it weren’t for this, I would’ve died. One unfortunate death was enough for an experience. Especially one where you’d fall and won’t be able to find the body.

―Squeak. (Sigh.)

More importantly, I was worried about Kyle.

He had a strong, yet affectionate personality, so he must’ve been quite heartbroken to lose a person he promised to protect right in front of his eyes. I did say I was going to come back, but it would’ve been difficult to believe in even it were myself.

That doesn’t mean I could open up the Nut Store and fall together. It was already too late to open the store and I didn’t wish for him to fall too.

It’s not just you who are protecting me, I’m also protecting you.

It couldn’t be helped.

Like that, the complicated feelings and inner turmoil never went away. I kept turning back and forth and scratched my sides.

But now that I was in a familiar place, I eventually dozed off to sleep. With so much that had happened in one day, my stamina must’ve ran low.

In the end, I couldn’t overcome the my tiredness and closed my eyes.

‘The first thing I’ll do when he comes back is apologize.’

To apologize for disappearing like that.

*

Bang.

The door opened more roughly than usual.

I jumped up in surprise, waking from my sleep. Be quiet will you! Don’t you know how small and fragile a hamster’s liver is!

“Your Highness.”

The people who entered the study were Kyle and his knights.

Kyle’s arm still looked uncomfortable, as if he hadn’t taken care of his injury yet. His clothes were stained with a mixture of dirt and blood, and his overall appearance was so messy that he looked a little terrifying.

Bam―!

Kyle strode in and slammed on the desk. Leaning forward on the table, he took a deep breath. A few knights stiffened upon seeing him fiercer than usual.

It certainly felt as if the temperature of the room fell by about 1 degree. I covered myself in the sawdust and watched Kyle.

“Your Highness. You haven’t rested for two days already. You should rest first and…….”

The knight at the door spoke cautiously. Kyle muttered lowly without even looking at him.

“Go back.”

The knights glanced at each other, bowed their heads, and left the study.

When the heavy door closed, silence filled the room. In the middle was Kyle, who spoke quietly.

“……It shouldn’t have been you.”

My heart hurt upon hearing that.

It was obvious, yet also surprising. He must’ve already suffered from the deaths of countless other people as he fought against the beasts just to survive in the harsh North. It was something I could not imagine myself, nor have I read about it in books.

The Serena’s first impression of Kyle in <Winter’s Heart> was like this: a poor man who carried countless deaths on his shoulders.

To be honest, I wasn’t aware of it because he was always fawning over and kissing me uncontrollably.

Why aren’t there many people around him who offers help and accepts help? How many people have he lost this way?

Wait a little more, Kyle.

Just a little more.

I will come for you soon.

*

In the meantime, I did everything I could as Cashew.

I gazed at him with both my paws up, gently rubbed my body against him, and even kissed him for the first time in my life.

Seeing him still look gloomy, I even brought out the macadamia nuts and nibbled on them in front of him. I wanted to throw them out and ask for meat, but I held back and ate five pieces.

Hey. If your hamster became a food fighter, at least pretend to look at it. See, I’m eating well.

When I sprawled out on his palm after eating to my fullest, Kyle finally showed a meaningful response. He stroked my head exactly twice with his fingers before putting me back into my hut.

Meaning, everything I did was useless. As Kyle turned off the lights and left the room, I pressed myself against the transparent wall.

―Squeak! (Hey!)

―Squeak squeak! (I acted cutely for you!)

But Kyle, as if he were dazed, didn’t hear my cries and just closed the door.

This was roughly an hour ago.

I contemplated before using  ‘Summon’. I dressed up and headed for Kyle’s room.

Originally, I was going to show up tomorrow morning, the day after Kyle returned to the castle. If a person who fell off the cliff returned to the territory first, it would’ve been suspicious. They would be questioned on how they survived and was able to come back so quickly.

So, I wanted to lighten the mood a bit in the form of Cashew.

“Phew.”

I let out a deep breath in front of his room. It was still too early for him to have fallen asleep so we should be able to meet up.

To be at another’s bedroom at this time of the night. I’d be labeled as a pervert, but then again I was already known as a pet pervert.

Knock knock.

I knocked out of respect and grabbed the doorknob when there was no response. The lights inside the room was already out and the inside was dark.

I cautiously entered. Fortunately, faint moonlight seeped in through the drawn curtains.

You’re already sleeping.

As expected I should’ve visited tomorrow, but then…

“Shu?”

Kyle appeared from the darkness and grabbed my wrist.

Surprised, I jolted and turned my head around. As if he had just came out from washing himself, he was wrapped in a bathrobe and water dripped down from his hair.

Hey, man. Make some sounds when you walk around. You scared me.

“Just how exactly…….”

His face was quite shocked, as if he had seen a ghost. He examined me to see if I was real.

Just when I thought when he would release my wrist―.

“You, what are you.”

Suddenly, I was grabbed by the collar.

‘Why is he being like this?’

With no other choice, I went along with him. I lifted both my hands up and made a gesture that said, ‘I am harmless’.

“Do you not recognize your pet anymore?”

I spoke as calmly and jokingly as possible. But Kyle’s face still did not relax.

“Are you a magician? How did you return?”

“……What are you trying to say?”

“You disappeared when you fell from the stairs before. Just what kind of magic did you use to be able to disappear without a trace like that.”

I gaped for a moment. Then, the system window suddenly appeared before my eyes.

[A strange turn of events have been observed in the ‘Magic Tower of Frost’. Kyle has thought about striking negotiation with his long time nemesis, the Northwest Magicians.]

‘Northwest Magicians?’

Is Kyle suspecting me as a magician?

Well, to survive such a fall would’ve been either a miracle or due to magic. And to have no wounds whatsoever after returning. I should’ve asked the system to make some fake wounds for me…….

“Please calm down. First, let go of me.”

I lightly patted the hand holding onto my collar.

His pupils shook. Even though the whole situation was suspicious, he also seemed to look a little happy.

[Currently Possessing Hearts ｜ ❤×10]

……To be able to be happy even while holding onto my collar. Are you that happy that I came back alive?

“I know you have a lot of questions, but I will only answer three. I will answer them all. Oh, and to answer your question regarding if I am a magician or not, I am not a magician.”

He glared at me with sharp eyes for a moment. How pressuring.

“How did you survive and come back? The fall should’ve been so deep that you couldn’t even see the bottom. I searched for you after your fall, but I couldn’t find even a single trace of you. And then you return back without even a single scratch on you?”

“This.”

I lifted my right hand. The bracelet with a bright blue gem dangling from it sparkled in a soft color.

“It must truly be a lucky bracelet. Mid-fall, I got caught on a branch and landed on a bush. That was how I survived.”

Of course, it was a lie.

However, there was nothing else I could say or do. I couldn’t say that I was once a human who turned into a hamster and could change back and forth using a system item.

Kyle still looked at me with suspicious eyes. Still, he seemed to have been trying to convince himself.

“There is no reason for you to believe me, but I hope you do. After all, I am on Your Highness’s side.”

“Anyone can say whatever they want to say. That goes the same for beliefs.”

“Then would you believe me if I even put my life on the line?”

“What do you mean?”

Only then did his grip loosen. I gently took his hand off and opened my mouth.

“I put my life on the line for you. I am saying that your future is also my future.”

He gawked at me like I was some strange person.

I knew. I sounded like a fraud. I wanted to say it in a different way but couldn’t think of other word choices I could use. Besides, what I said was true.

“Is the last question still available?”

“Yes. Go ahead.”

Kyle was unusually hesitant. I waited patiently in his silence and it wasn’t long before I heard a softer voice coming from him.

“……Are you hurt anywhere?”

“…….”

I became speechless for a moment. It was such a strange question to ask to a person he doubted until now.

I cleared my throat and answered while rubbing the back of my neck.

“……Ahem. I’m not hurt anywhere. Just a few scratches. You know how fast I recover, right?”

So please stop searching all over my body, Your Highness.

I tried to ignore his gaze and looked at the system window.

After eating several Long-Lasting Acorn Cookies and the Panting Almond Financier, my Miracle Value hit an all time low. It decreased by 10%, so my Summon duration also decreased by an hour.

[‘Summon’ will be canceled in 15 minutes.]

“It’s quite late and you need to rest, so I will be going now. It’s my mistake for visiting you at this late time.”

I said while smiling and began to take a few steps back. I cleared up the misunderstandings and said everything I needed to say. The hour was spent well.

However, my retreat couldn’t reach the door. That was because Kyle kept holding onto my wrist tightly.

“……Should I just trap you in.”

Hmm, I don’t think that’s possible.

I pulled back my wrist and smiled.

“Unfortunately, I have a curfew.”

A one hour curfew.

“If you feel lonely, how about doing that?”

I gestured with my chin to the knitting set next to the bed. Kyle followed my movements with his eyes and pulled me into his arms.

……Hey, hey. What are you doing.

“You have no need to go all the way back to your room.”

My body tilted to the side and felt the soft bed supporting my shoulders.

15 minutes left!

[(/へ＼*) ]

Don’t act shy.

‘How do I get out of this situation…’

I struggled and pushed him away by the shoulders. Then I paused.

“…….”

He was already asleep.

It hasn’t even been a minute and yet he already fell asleep. He breathed in and exhaled softly and evenly with his eyes shut.

It must’ve been exhausting. To be concerned about me the whole day after an unexpected incident without taking care of his own injuries……

Even so, don’t you think it’s against the rules to fall asleep so suddenly with such a relaxed expression?

I gazed at his face quietly.

[‘Summon’ will be canceled in 10 seconds.]

“Sleep well, Kyle.”

I’m glad I returned back to your side.

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

Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

[cursorcomets]

Re: The discourse

I really don’t want to speak over anybody, I just want clarification and believe discourse is necessary for justified understanding.

I am very confused with a lot of the discourse i’ve seen today, and this confusion itched curiosity which became answers which then lead to further confusion.

Firstly, I have nothing but sympathy for anybody unable to bridge their connection with dan and phil through their tour. It makes me so upset knowing there’s so many people (knowingly the largest areas of fans), unable to see them in person because of external factors, outside of their controls. My sympathy is shared with my privilege in my other hand.

If we act in good faith, we also understand this is also very upsetting to dan and phil, from what they have said regarding the unjustified barriers they’ve tried to get past. They want to meet their fans, we know this from the generosity they extend to these issues, even ones out of their control. If that means hosting the equivalency of two meet and greets in one day due to ticket mishap, or their willingness to sacrifice their own discomfort for the sake of transparent fairness. It would be questionable to claim they do not genuinely care about their supporters, and when able, demonstrate that to the extent possible.

Obviously they cannot and should not go without criticism. They have, and will make mistakes, holding them to their mistakes is also important, and their responses to most of community concerns demonstrates it matters to them as well. They don’t want to upset or offend us. I believe they value our opinion, hold our viewpoints very high and want to set some kind of example of these beliefs. Could they do more? of course. At the end of the day, it breaks my heart to acknowledge, they are middle aged white men from England.

I also think it’s so important to acknowledge the raw realities they have shared with us, being their humanness, authenticity and vulnerability they have given us access to for 15 years. In the face of the mass scale personal intrusion they have sacrificed for our benefit, we have to acknowledge they are at their core deeply human. This point sounds cliche but i fear the desensitising of it only causes harm.

As dan said in his most recent reply, “to some extent i think i should be allowed grace to process being told my existence is not welcome.”

He further goes onto explain the importance of being sensitive with his platform. This is what i feel is at the core of this discourse.

There is so much nuance within discussing the careful line between expression of his lived experience, and minimising the extent of these vocal frustrations against his responsibility as a lighting rod of hope for so many.

His original reply which initiated the discourse, in relation to touring in asia, “we tried but the governments said no homo”.

Although later clarified is true, caused a lot of upset to many people. I am in no place to invalidate those feelings, and do not mean too. Those directly affected by this comment are more than entitled to feel this way. I do not want to touch that issue, my confusion comes from issues that exist outside of the topic specifically.

More so, the power of assumption and trust. I acknowledge it may be easier for me to detach and adjudicate situations from the outside of an issue due to privilege. I have tried to consume most of the opinions from those at the core of the issue. It seemed there was an assumption this statement of his was decidedly the single and final statement regarding asian tour dates. If that was true, it would be deeply unprofessional and disloyal to those fans affected. His statement now reads as truth masked through frustrated tone in response to hurt at the expense of himself and asian fans. As he since explained further, this sentiment is correct. Where my confusion lies, is the immediate jump to action, the accusatory labels and immediate conclusion his intent was malicious, consciously or not. I do get it, we should not carelessly trust people we only know parasocially. His statement was no more embellished than the acknowledgment of a massive factor to his answer to the initial question. The tone of his reply is where we have to apply nuance to the real life implications. The reality is, they were subjected to censoring on the basis of their sexuality. This does not take away from the lived experience of lgbt people in those countries. He acknowledged and apologised for not clarifying sooner, however the discourse of the initial reply is swallowing the larger sentiment, this is deeply upsetting to both dnp and those missing out on the tour. To find malice in his personal processing of discrimination, when his initial statement at its core was coping at his own expense doesn’t make sense to me with these points applied.

I do not disagree with sentiments expressed by those affected by this, or saying that there is absolutely no reason for any critique. I want to listen, I want to support those affected, but i want to do this with total comprehension and understanding. I can’t thoughtlessly defend something without reason. I also take umbridge with SOME people weaponising their ignorance or purposeful incompetence to be bullies, whether to defend dan or attack him. It’s incredibly translucent the people that jump to the occasion in bad faith, taking away significance from actual well intended intelligent opinions. If you’re using this as an opportunity to be racist or regina george, you don’t care about the crusade your fighting, you are simply miserable.

If anyone disagrees or thinks im missing something please let me know! Im more than happy to have a conversation, its not your responsibility to educate me but Im more than happy to listen! Please be no meaner than justified haha.

Peace & Love,

Aimee