#sometimes it takes a second look to get beyond being distracted by how something is in the surface

[kenobion]

Andrew Garfield for GQ x Saint Laurent

[harrysfolklore]

new year's wish - blurb

a/n: happy happy new year loves ! wrote this little blurb about one of my favorite tropes and i hope you like it, let me know your thoughts <3

gif by @harryisart

MASTERLIST | MY PATREON

2011

It was a tradition between your friend group at this point.

For the last two years, you've been celebrating New Year's Eve at Jonny's place, all of you getting together to celebrate and reminisce about your memories together.

You loved your friends to pieces, your group wasn't exactly huge, but you've made a bond so special over the years that no one could easily break.

However, you surely had a different and deeper connection with your best friend, Harry.

You met Harry the first day of middle school, and ever since your first interaction you've been inseparable. As time passed and you got closer to Harry, you began noticing some changes in how you felt. His laughter made you feel happier, his support meant a lot more, and being around him felt different—like something special. Sometimes, you found yourself admiring him in a way that went beyond just being friends. You started to realize that your feelings for Harry were growing into something deeper than friendship, something you hadn't felt before. It was like a secret you kept in your heart, waiting for the right time to figure out what it meant and terrified that making a move would ruin your friendship.

"Hey! I was looking for you." Harry's voice interrupted your train of thought, making you move from the fireplace you've been standing for the last few minutes.

"I got cold outside, wanted to catch some warmth." you said, looking at your curly haired best friend.

"The countdown is about to begin," he let you know, "Let's go with the rest."

You followed him to where your friends were hanging out, sitting next to him.

"What's on your mind? You're really quiet."

You took a moment before replying, "Just thinking about how everything's going to be different next year, we're barely going to see you."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked, a frown appearing on his face.

"You know, the band is taking off and you're going to be so busy," a confused look took over his face, "Don't get me wrong, I'm so proud of you, we all are. I'm just going to miss all of us here together, at Jonny's place."

"Come on, none of that," he said as he noticed a pout making its way to your face, throwing his arm around your shoulders and pulling you to his side, "I'm always going to be around, you won't get rid of me that easily," you laughed at this, "Next year we're all going to be right here together and nothing's going to change."

And as the clock counted down the seconds till midnight you wished for one thing: I wish he doesn't forget about me

2013

"Hey, stranger."

"Hello to you too, miss"

Harry's voice echoed through the speakers of your car, making you laugh as you drove the streets of Holmes Chapel, heading to your favorite wine shop.

"Are you coming to Jonny's place for New Years or are you going to spend it with your famous friends." You joked, and even though you couldn't see him you knew he was rolling his eyes.

"Of course I am, that's every year," you smiled at his words, "Besides, I need to see you so I can tell you all about this girl I'm seeing," and just like that your smile quickly faded, and you were glad he couldn't see you because you could swear your face dropped along with your heart, "I'm super thrilled, we hit it off right away and I honestly can't wait for you to meet her."

You weren't sure how many seconds passed in silence from you,but soon enough you heard Harry's voice asking if you were still on the line.

"Yeah, just got distracted by the traffic," you lied, "I can't wait to hear all about it, I'm glad you're happy."

New Year's was days away but you already had your wish in mind: I wish to be the girl for him someday

2015

There was just one thing in your mind as you sat on the bar stool with a drink in your hand: this year sucked.

That year, Harry had a super busy time with lots of success. He kept in touch, but it wasn't like before, your talks became shorter, and you didn't hang out much. You understood he was busy, but it felt different, you missed him and the fact he didn't show up for New Year's hit hard

On top of that, the headline "Spotted: Kendall Jenner and Harry Styles Getting Handsy on a Yacht" was the first thing you read in the morning, and it hurt.

You weren't even celebrating at Jonny's place, which made the night even more depressing for you, your friends insisted on trying something different and celebrate at a rooftop bar instead.

Maybe you held on to nostalgia too much, but you missed the old days when everything was simpler and you had Harry next to you.

"Hey! Countdown is about to begin, what are you doing on your own?" Ellis, one of your closest friends, called for you making you hop off the stool and join them.

"Everyone has their wishes for the new year?" Jonny asked the group, and you knew exactly what was the only thing you were going to wish for: I wish things would to go back to how they were

2019

"Look who finally showed up!"

Jonny's voice made everyone turn their heads towards the door, where a cuddly looking Harry stood with a bottle of wine.

"Hello to you too, mate." Harry said, making his way toward his best friend and giving him a hug.

After letting go of Jonny, he locked eyes with you and wasted no time to pull you close and wrap you around his arms.

"I missed you," he mumbled against the crown of you head, where he placed a small kiss, "I'm sorry I haven't texted, you know how chaotic album releases are."

You smiled with a tingle of sadness, Harry had just released his second album 'Fine Line', one that he described as having sex and feeling sad and that mainly talked about his most recent breakup.

A breakup that you helped him get through even though your own heart was being obliquely broken by him once again. But at the end at the day, he was still your best friend and there was nothing in this world you wouldn't do for him.

"It's okay, you're here now." You let go of him and squeezed his arm one final time before joining the rest of your friends in cheerful conversation.

Like every year, the night flew by and before you knew it you were a few minutes away from midnight, so you took that as a cue to look for Harry who had been absent from the room due to his phone ringing.

"H? Are you done with your phone call?" you asked, getting close to him, "Is everything okay?"

"It was Camille," he said, turning to look at you and showing you a small smile, one that gave away his contentment about it, "She said she wants to talk in person, to work things out."

"Oh that's, that's good I guess." You tried your best to give him a fake smile.

"It's more than good, this is great!" his smile widened as he moved from his place and wrapped an arm around your shoulders to give you to where your friends were calling for both of you, "Never thought this year would end like this."

His words echoed in your head as you stood with your friends who counted down the seconds until midnight, and a single wish came to your mind: I wish loving him didn't hurt so much

2023

The familiar setting at Jonny's place made you feel comfortable and at ease, no matter how busy your lives had been that year, your friends would always show up to celebrate the new year together and that was something you deeply cherished

This year had been extra special, with every aspect of your life blossoming, but there was a certain thing that made 2023 a great year: your relationship with Harry.

You two had become even closer that you were before, you had always been best friends who shared everything but things felt different now.

Maybe it was the way you exchanged looks that lasted a bit too long, the accidental touches that sent shivers down your spine, or the things you both didn't say but felt.

You couldn't shake the feeling that maybe, just maybe, Harry finally felt something more too. But your intrusive thoughts, the fear of ruining your friendship and the amount of times you've been heartbroken over the years kept pushing these thoughts away every time they popped up.

"Praying to the God's above that Harry finally kisses you at midnight?" Ellis' voice almost made you jump on your spot on the couch, she plopped next to you with a beer on her hand and a cocky smile.

"Ellis! What are you on about!" you complained, making her roll her eyes.

"Come on! We all know that's what you wish for every birthday, and we've noticed that he can’t keep his hands off you tonight, walking in hand in hand and all."

It was your turn to roll your eyes, but you could feel your stomach twist at her words.

After a few more drinks and not so subtle teasing from your friends about you and Harry, you slipped away for a bit, needing a break from the noise. Soon enough Harry spotted you by the window, looking up at the stars.

"Hey," Harry said standing next to you, you smiled as you felt his arm wrap around your waist, "The countdown is about to begin."

"Let's go join them then." You moved from the window and tried to head towards the living room, but Harry's hand grabbing yours made you stop on your tracks.

"Actually," he avoided your eyes, focusing on the scenery outside for a moment, "I've been wanting to talk to you about something, I don't even know if this is the ideal time but-"

"Hey," you cut him off, finding his eyes and giving him a tender smile, "It's okay, you know you can tell me anything."

"I've been doing a lot of thinking lately, about this year and everything that changed, especially between us," he began, his voice soft yet determined, and your face full of confusion and anticipation.

"These past years have been a whirlwind," Harry continued, "But in all the chaos and changes, there's been one constant, You. And I've been blind to not recognize what that means."

Your breath caught in your throat and you could swear you felt your palms drench in sweat.

"I've wasted too much time not acknowledging it, not admitting it to myself and hurting you in the process," Harry spoke again, his voice laced with a tingle of sadness. "I cherish our friendship deeply, but I've come to understand that what I feel for you goes beyond just friendship. It's something deeper, something I've been too oblivious to see clearly for my own selfish reasons."

His words hung in the air, you could hardly believe what you were hearing, the words you'd secretly longed for so many years, spoken by the person who meant the world to you.

"I guess what I'm trying to say is that I love you, I've loved you for longer than I realized, and I don't want another year passing without telling you."

Tears welled up in your eyes and without a word, you wrapped your arms around him, pulling him into a tight embrace. It felt like the weight of the years of unspoken emotions was finally lifted, and in that moment, everything felt right.

"I love you too," you whispered, your voice filled with a all kinds of emotions. "I've always loved you, Harry."

From afar, you could hear the cheers and celebrations of a New Year, the clock had reached midnight and your friends already made their wishes.

And as you finally kissed the man you loved after he confessed that he loved you too, there was nothing else you'd rather wish for.

[eldritch-spouse]

I love the idea of Zizz becoming obsessed with a lucid dreamer.

She talks to him about things she's too afraid to talk to other people about, rants about how tiresome her work is, and doing stupid shit while they wander a dreamscape she makes. Sometimes she fucks him if he doesn't take on a human appearance (realizing she's a monsterfucker). She thinks he is nothing more than a random figment formed from their dreams, enjoying these moments that will be gone by the morning.

Zizz keeps getting drawn to her, the more time he spends, the harder he falls for her.

[Aaah, this is a cute idea. Reader is ambiguous.]

The first night, you didn't know what was happening.

There was a presence in your dream, you felt it as soon as it invaded the sanctity of your slumber. A thick shadow lurking in the halls of the manor you spent so long visualizing during waking hours just so you could bring it into your dreams.

Curiosity led you to follow that strange pull. You didn't consciously manifest anything or anyone yet, so what could it be that your brain cooked up on its own?

It seemed to be wandering, and the closer you got to it, the louder these slow thumps could be heard, footsteps making aged wooden floorboards creak in protest. The parts of your dream where this thing dwelled seemed to become somehow more vivid than the ones you created, as if it were breathing life into them. Your curious search becomes a frantic chase when you catch the outline of something massive turning the corner.

Was the manor this complex? Were there these many halls?

No, you remember it being smaller. Is it... Changing its location? Changing your dream? This has to be the product of your sudden distraction. Yes, that's it.

You remember the way you stopped breathing when you opened a door, only to see him pass by.

What you can only describe as a giant demonic entity, with pallid, ash-like skin and a great veil over its horned face. A thin tail that ended in a crescent shape swaying lazily behind a masculine inhuman figure.

Between the shock and fear, you could only watch it trudge to another division, uncaring of your presence.

Your lungs start working again, on the first desperate gasp-

You wake up.

The second time, he laughed.

Some time had passed.

You never truly felt all that comfortable in your own dreamscapes after that odd encounter and, strangely, even if you remembered the sight of that demonoid so clearly, manifesting him was proving itself to be harder than expected.

You felt like you needed to bring him back, if only because his appearance left more questions than answers, and that encounter begged some clarifications.

The versions you did manage to create always seemed oddly deformed, as if you were a novice at this.

Tonight, you were dedicating your time to making him reappear, which led you to a mostly white space devoid of features beyond a floor, and the several copies of the entity you are failing to put together.

Some are discolored. Others have too many horns, the one in the corner is... Melting? The latest keeps disappearing and popping up in random spots. None of them are behaving at all, just standing there like mockeries of statues.

They feel so fake, so paper-like, cheap imitations of something that felt so powerful and perfect! Like there really was another person in your dream...

You're getting frustrated.

It's a pointless effort born out of a spook.

After what feels like an eternity of populating an endless landscape with grotesque reflections, you simply sit down and watch them fail miserably at existing.

Except... A new one emerges from the back of a swaying, greenish copy.

It looks around, tensing, as if perturbed by something, then casts its gaze to the clones surrounding it.

You didn't make that one. Not willingly. It's... It's too perfect, he looks exactly like the demon you saw, down to a T! Even the little glowing blob on his head, that's him! That's... Him. The real one. Oh fuck.

Horrified yet oddly gleeful, you simply stay very still and watch everything unfold.

The giant demon begins exploring once more, touching the flawed versions of himself he comes across. The ones that seem to particularly disturb him are waved at, and with the simple gesture, disappear entirely. Although you cannot see his face, his tail swats quickly behind the monster's body, it's clear he's at least amused by what he's seeing.

One second he's moving to the nearest malformed abomination, the next you blink and he's standing still, fixed on you. There's no doubt he's spotted you sitting cross-legged like an idiot, you bet you stick out like a sore thumb.

It felt like hours passed in that silent locking of stares. This time, you remember to breathe. But your mouth certainly won't open. And he doesn't utter a word either, resuming his perusing.

Finally, he spots the one whose clothes keep flickering in and out of place. You don't know why it's like that, and it embarrasses you. Your brain can guess the general body type and coloration of the demon given he doesn't cover all that much, but it has no way of knowing what his genitals look like, so your mind is visibly cycling through possibilities.

Seeing himself naked, with a variety of ridiculous genital equipment, the entity invading your dream starts to shake slightly.

You fear you might have greatly offended him without meaning to, but then, this sound starts bouncing off non-existent walls until it reaches you.

A melodic sort of chuckling that fills you with some unknown lulling tingle, rising into amused, helpless belly laughter, cackling. His head throws back and his shoulders quake. It's the only thing you can focus on, a voice so clear and so distinct, something you've never heard before. How incredible.

Well... At least he finds it funny? Good, that's. Good. You guess.

When the noise dies down, you find him looking at you again.

The flustered tightening of your belly is probably what woke you up.

The third time, he spoke to you.

It must not have been more than a week.

You think he's lurking around more often, because you're starting to pick up on the way his presence alters the spaces around him, makes them feel all the more immersive.

This time, you were creating a garden, picking the flowers you'll put in a variety of plots.

When you head to the little gazebo in the center, you find that not only has it increased twofold in size, he is sitting at the table you placed there.

The demon seems calm, legs spread, one hand resting on the table, the other holding his covered head as he watches you freeze.

Your first instinct is to turn back and pretend he's not there, to walk away, maybe try shoving him out of the dreamscape. But do you really want to?

" Stay. " He beckons, the moment you take a step back.

" Who are you? " Is instantly shot back.

The monster leans back on his seat, the clawed hand previously resting rises, and with a snap, day turns into night, a brilliant sky with millions of stars and swirling cool hues.

It's nothing short of gorgeous.

At this point, you think he has more control of your dream than you.

As if to prove that, the chair opposing him slides back, and he tips his head towards it, waving.

" I like your dreams. " The demon starts. " You're interesting. "

" ... Thank you? " Because what else are you supposed to say.

" Sit. " He beckons again. " Talk to me tonight. "

You didn't believe it.

Didn't believe who he said he was.

How he managed to enter your dreams.

Didn't believe that someone like him could ever find you worth any time.

You chalked it up to total madness, and took the entire conversation as a humorous game, laughing when it seemed as if he was getting almost enamored with you.

After an admittedly delightful night sharing drinks he had conjured for the two of you, Zizz sighs and tells you that it's time for you to wake up.

You're about to ask how he would know such when he leans forward to gently tip the glass up to your lips, and the richness of your favorite drink is the last thing you feel before it all fades away.

Tonight, he offered to take you into one of his dreamscapes.

A smile in his words and a shine to the soft paw he extended your way convinced you to accept the offer.

Maybe the way he purred and whispered your name like a prayer should have been warning enough that you were playing a dangerous game.

It's been hours. A day? Too long. Longer than you've ever been dreaming for. Tracking time is harder in a location you have no control over.

This is a very beautiful royal mansion, and you've been having lots of fun spending time with Zizz in it and all...

But you'd like to wake up.

It's not happening. You can't bring yourself out of the lucid dream. You... You're stuck.

When a quiet moment falls between the two of you, a small hand taps the supposed demonlord's arm.

" Zizz? "

" Mmm? "

There's a gulp. " ... I need to wake up. "

Seconds bleed into what must have been a minute of complete silence.

Until his palm lands on your head and he affectionately combs over your hair, leading you forward beside him as you're about to enter his dreamscape's bedroom.

Claws tighten on the skin of your scalp.

" Don't be silly. "

[evita-shelby]

The Wreckage

sequel to Look Both Ways where we get the reason why Lucy left and why Tommy and Eva couldn't make it work after she filed for divorce.

cw: refrenced suicide attempt, mental illnesses, unhealthy coping mechanisms, angst, drama, murder accusations.

you know something nice to distract yall from the US Elections tonight

@justrainandcoffee @mischievouslittlecreature @zablife @call-sign-shark @hoodeddreams13 @thegreatdragonfruta

After Eva had that vision of Lucy blowing her brains out, she takes the first train back to Small Heath and gets there just in time to stop her.

They have a much-needed talk, it falls on Eva to convince the redhead that it is not her fault.

Considering they are all in various states of disrepair, the witch fucking hates to be the Strong one while the other two points of the triangle get to lose their shit about it. Eva is too busy trying to keep them from hurting themselves to even mourn her own loss.

Tommy isolated himself and got so drunk he ended up in a holding cell for his own safety, Lucy ended up believing the Shelby Clan’s words that she shouldn’t have remained Tommy’s lover when he decided to court and marry Eva.

Eva barely had time to settle in her new leased townhouse before the Universe decided she could not just wash her hands of them and move on with her life. She hates it when her powers force her to be a better person.

The witch had to explain how her previous relationships had not left her in the condition needed to accept having a man who is not entirely hers, how she knows they will all be the better for it and that if anyone is at fault it is Eva for being too desperate to avoid her impending execution.

“How do you hold yourself together like that?” Lucy had asked as she confided in her about her plans to seek out her maternal family. She needed time as well, they all did.

“Because neither you nor Tommy have given me the chance to properly fall apart.” The witch admitted wryly, she was as honest with Lucy as she was with Tommy ---sometimes she’d use it to purposely hurt them to assuage her need of space and the fear that Tommy didn’t love her as much as she did him. “Trust me, I should have been in London crying my heart out and fucking a stranger with a thing for pregnant women instead of bailing Tommy out and keeping you from making my decision to save myself obsolete.”

“Then why save me? You could have been happy with him; you are giving him a child.” The redhead ---still wallowing in her despair and guilt--- demands to know why Eva didn’t seize her chance at happiness. “He said you told him you’d have four children and live in the country.”

“And if I had let you die, I would still be second place even if you were a ghost tormenting him. No life is worth living with a man who doesn’t love you the way you need him to anyways.” The dark-haired woman answered bluntly as they sat down a little further away from what would have been a crime scene.

“I can’t stay here. Not when everyone blames me for it.” By everyone she does mean everyone.

The Shelbys had taken Polly’s side and everyone else correctly guessed Tommy having a lover is what destroyed the fairytale romance.

It was a terrible place to be, Eva had not considered how cruel they’d be to Lucy only focused on leaving a man who placed Lucy over here time and time again. Why Tommy couldn’t just marry her and avoid this mess was beyond Eva’s comprehension.

Marriage is safety when you do not love in the conventional way.

“Have you finally given my suggestions to find your mother and your aunt some thought?” she asked the Red Demon who had been reluctant on accepting Eva’s offer to help her find her family because neither she nor Tommy appeared to be capable or surviving without the other.

They could, they are just too pessimistic and they refuse to give it a real, honest try. Eva had been there once, and now seeks to pull them out of the dark waters even if they like it there.

“Yes, maybe if I had said yes when you offered the first time we wouldn’t be in this mess.” And because Lucy wants to see if Tommy would be happy without her here. Not by being the ghost haunting him, but as the lover who left him. “You should’ve told me we were making you feel unloved.”

“I know, but I feared losing him, and while I do get on with you, I do not like you that way. We are just too different.” Part of Eva still wants the life she saw with Tommy that morning in Brighton. Is it wrong for her to desire her own happiness after life took everything from her? Why was she losing her one thread to life again? Why couldn't someone else be the one to sacrifice their happiness for her instead of her doing it every single time?

“I had guessed as much. I am not as ignorant as Polly makes me look.” Her ex lover nodded in agreement, and both said their goodbyes before parting ways.

The last person seen with Lucy was Eva. A gunshot was heard and only Eva came back.

There was no body nor signs of a struggle, but he knows what the witch is capable of. She had one demand when he refused to sign the papers in London.

Me or Her.

And when he refused to choose her then and there, he left to drown out his sorrows and make his choice.

He loved both women. He loved Eva fiercely, loved her fire, her strength and her ambition to take back everything she had lost.

But he loved Lucy more. He couldn’t just leave her like this. It would kill her.

“We will have everything we have ever wanted, mi amor.” She had proclaimed that morning after their wedding.

Four children, a baronetcy, a career in politics. They would be as happy and as in love as they were that morning.

He had been a fool to assume she saw Lucy in it.

And because he was going to choose Lucy over her, Eva killed her.

She was just as damaged as them. Lost everything she ever had, and now that she stood to lose the chance to have it all again with him, the witch took it.

What Lucy was capable off wasn’t close to what Eva could do. Eva had the advantage of money and magic.

“You killed her!” he cannot contain himself when he finds her still packing up what she owned in Ada’s old room. She had moved there when it became clear he would sleep with both women.

Eva is shocked from his words angry in ways he had never seen. The words had hurt her like a blow to the stomach and woke the beast underneath the soft warm skin

“Oh, yes, because I would be so fucking sloppy as to have the murder weapon in my hands and be so obvious!” The witch mocks him and denies it. "If I had killed her, you would have never found out about it."

He should’ve known she wanted him to choose her.

He couldn’t choose so she choose for him.

“You killed Lucy!” he shouts again as he comes to shake her and demand to know why she did this to her.

Eva slaps him hard enough to leave a mark.

“I didn’t fucking kill her! Why would I go through all the trouble of divorcing you if I intended to kill her?” the witch shouts back when even her hand on his cheek is not enough to break him out of that thought.

“Then where is she? Why were you the only one to come back here?” He knows deep down she didn’t and yet he cannot stop his mind from finding a reason to believe she did.

“She needed time away from here, to get away from a place that hates her. Just as I am doing.” We need to be away from you.

“Then why didn’t she tell me?” he asks the woman who he knows won’t ever forgive him.

“You wouldn’t have let her go, just as you are not man enough to let me go.” She hates as strongly as she loves, and now Tommy knows what the Witch’s anger feels like. “Just as you are so fucking full of it that you fucking came here and accused me of killing your precious Lucy.

Me, the mother of your child, the wife you promised to love and cherish before God and Men; and you couldn’t even love me enough to give me the presumption of innocence.” Her anger turns to hot tears as she lets him have it. “I should’ve left England when I had the chance.”

Tommy has only seen Eva cry three times in his life. The day he taught her to shoot, the day she left him and the day he killed her love for him.

“I'm sorry, I don’t know what came over me. I know you would never do that.” Even when he means it, even when he tries to show her how truly sorry he is for the way he acted, for the fucking way he doubted her like this, his wife flinches away form him.

Moves away from him as if his touch physically hurt her.

“If it had been me who disappeared, you wouldn’t have accused Lucy of killing me.” She won’t ever forgive him, there is no love for him in her eyes only hatred he created and he will have to live with that for the rest of his days. “You do not love me like you love her, now I wonder if you ever loved me at all.”

But he does love her, and that is what makes it all worse. He’s lost her even when that is the last thing he wanted to do.

“Evie, please---” Tommy chases after her, refusing to accept the defeat he crafted with his own bloody hands.

“I will never set foot here unless you are dead.” The witch refuses to look at him as she too walks out of his life and leaves him standing on the wreckage of their love.

She was right when she called him a fucking fool when it comes to love. Always right when it comes to him and not once has she ever lied to him.

Which is why he will set this right, even if it means following her to London.

story continues in Venor

[lostbetweenvampiresandmusic]

Lost in a storm

Marko × reader

(Requests are open)

💜

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

I sighed softly as the harsh wind slammed against my chest. It was about to storm. The waves were crashing into the rocks scattered around the beach, and the boardwalk seemed to be completely deserted.

I enjoyed myself, though, in the dark, dreary afternoon. It was cold, but not cold enough to make me regret going outside. There was some faint hint of rain, but not enough for me to regret not taking an umbrella. And there was wind. A lot of it. Swirling around me, slamming against me, dragging me forward and pushing me back. It made me feel small, in the comparison of things.

How could my world end when something out there - like the wind - was so much stronger and bigger than me? How could I be worried when the wind slammed against me, quite literally pushing all the worries away from me? How could I be anything when the wind could drag me down the second I allowed it to?

You see, I had somehow - for some reason - fallen in love. I didn't do love. Love was not a thing for me, I didn't bother with it. Why would I, when I was happy on my own? When I had friends, family, a fulfilled life? And yet, when I first saw him, I couldn't help but just fall for him. And not even a little bit - I flew right past 'crush' to 'head over heels madly in love'.

He had been something. Feared on the boardwalk, first and foremost. Also, apparently, one of the tormentors of my brother. But whether he was feared or hated, it didn't matter to me. I saw him. How he'd sometimes give some extra food to homeless kids, how he drove carefully past some animals so he wouldn't scare them. How he'd made sure that the ones he cared about were alright. He might have seemed bad, and he might have been bad to some - but, deep down, I realised he was good.

Me being in love with him was not the cause of my worries, though. No, my dear brother - note the sarcasm here - was the cause of that. He had wanted to fit in with their group. He had tried to back out. And backing out in Michael's case didn't mean backing off. It meant taking revenge. And that revenge caused me to be stressed beyond imagination. Because somehow, I got dragged into it as well. It was not just Michael going after David. It was Michael dragging me along while trying to kill my boyfriend and his family.

They had tried to kill Marko. Michael had tried to kill him. And he had expected me to be okay with it. He had expected me to help. And I did. Help, that is. Just not him.

I'd screamed and yelled and cried until he woke up. I screamed until the Frog brothers got distracted, so I could be certain they would miss. That they would not stake him through his heart. That eventhough Marko might still get injured, it would not be lethal. Luckily for me, I was successful. He lived. I hoped.

Because after I had tried to save him, I was dragged away by my brother and the Frog brothers. I was pushed away by David, who had anger written all over his face. I was dragged out of the cave, forbidden from entering again by the vampires and forbidden to return home by my human family.

So here I was. The wind was still punching against my chest as I tried to forget what had happened earlier today. As I tried to forget what might have happened to Marko. As I tried to distract myself of the endless what ifs that circled around in my head, as it tried to forget that maybe I had just screwed up for good with both my human family and my new found one.

"You'll get sick."

I turned around quickly, trying to steady my heartbeat.

"I don't care."

"He will."

"Marko's alive?" I looked at Dwayne, feeling more hopeful than I had done all day. He nodded.

"He asked me to come and get you."

I nodded, following him back to his bike. I got on, no longer caring that I was indeed getting quite cold and lightheaded. He was alive - and if he wanted to see me, he was not angry. Not with me, at least. Not that he had a right to be angry with me, I bloody saved the man, but you never know with vampires, you know?

I was quiet as we entered the cave, not saying anything as I hugged Marko tightly. We stood there for a while before I heard David speak up.

"We're going out for revenge."

I turned to look at him, shaking my head. "You're an idiot if you do."

David was about to snap at me when I continued. "Dont you get it?! They will expect the three of you! They will have fucking prepared for it! They may be young and stupid, but they almost succeeded once! Going after them tonight? You will fucking die! All of you. Just-" I swalled hard, trying to fight the tears that finally welled up in my eyes. "Just don't. Not tonight."

"Why do you care? Weren't you just with them this morning, ready to attack?" David sounded cold and bitter, and frankly, more dangerous than I had ever experienced before. I stepped back in fear, feeling slightly more secure when Marko pulled me closer to him.

"I tried to stop them," I said quietly. It was of no use, I knew David was angry.

"Just shut up," Marko looked at David, interrupting him before he could go on an angry rant. "Without Y/N, I'd be dead now. Project your anger on somebody else."

With those words, the cave fell silent. David, at one point, went out - either to get some food or to get some food. Dwayne and Paul left, too, at some point, stating that they wanted to see what they were up against the next day.

"I thought I lost you," I said softly as I sat on the couch, looking at him. "I was so fucking scared that they'd hit your heart and that I'd never see you again-"

"It's not that easy to kill a vampire, babe."

"You're sure you're alright?"

Marko was about to answer when I sneezed loudly. I shivered, feeling cold and clammy.

"Are you?"

"I think Dwayne was right," I mumbled, grabbing a blanket from Stars' bed and pulling it around me, "I shouldn't have been out in this weather for so long."

Marko chuckled, laying down so I could lay next to him. "You better get some sleep. Before you really get sick."

I nodded softly, my hand playing with a loose strand of his hair. "Maybe I should turn."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. To make sure you're safe."

He grinned, kissing my forehead softly. "You've already succeeded, babe. Just get some sleep, alright? I'm fine, I'm still here. I won't leave you."

[panic-flavored]

Mermay-Stobotinik ask!!

An agent or basically just another human starts getting handsy with a uncomfortable Robotinik. Then Stone dives out of tank and eats the other human before promptly marking Robotinik as his.

“You can't keep disemboweling every agent who gets a little too close to me, Stone!”

The badniks have already dealt with the body - or what was left of it - and Robotnik is pacing in front of Stone’s tank, rubbing a knuckle against his chin, torn between either delivering a furious reprimand or thanking Stone for disposing of a man who was entirely too touchy-feely with him to be considered work appropriate. Stone sits on the platform attached to his tank - Robotnik originally constructed it to make it easier to perform exams on Stone, but lately Stone enjoys using it just to get closer to the Doctor - watching Robotnik with an expression that can only be described as distracted. On edge, perhaps. His pelvic fins are still frilled in agitation. Robotnik has seen him like this before, usually after a kill, but today something seems different. 

“This is the third ‘misunderstanding’ in the last month, I'm starting to run out of excuses to tell the Commander! I don't enjoy having to occasionally work with humans either, but you're going to have to learn how to control yourself around them. Do you understand?”

Stone frowns. His fins have lost their threatening red stripes and have eased into the friendlier golden glowing spots, something he only displays for Robotnik. Stone repositions himself so he can use his hands to sign. 

He touched you.

“Yes, I know, I was there,” Robotnik groans. He can still feel the unwelcome hand on his hip, and can still hear the uncomfortably flirtatious tone in the agent’s voice. Why someone would ever attempt such a thing is completely beyond him. Robotnik is famously a horrible person to be around - a fact he’s very proud of, thank you - and should, by all accounts, scare everyone off without even trying. This was the persona he’d cultivated for himself, after all. The agent must have been after something, he thinks. There’s no other explanation. “I didn’t enjoy it, but I’m quite capable of taking care of myself. I don’t need you to rip out the throat of every human who looks at me funny. I’ll let you know when and if your service is required.”

Stone stares at him unblinkingly. He signs again. 

No one can touch you but me.

Any sane, rational person would take a step back after hearing something like that from a merman who has just pulled the intestines out of a man with his teeth, but Robotnik is neither sane nor rational. He takes a step forward.  “Oh ho, what’s this? A bold claim, if I do say so. I don’t remember ever agreeing to this.”

You don’t seem to mind when I touch you.

Robotnik’s eyes narrow. “Well, you’re different, I suppose. I’m researching you, sometimes physical contact is necessary.”

Stone’s eyes dilate sharply. That isn’t– He makes an irritated click from the back of his throat. It’s different.

“Enlighten me, then,” Robotnik challenges, taking another step closer to the merman. At this distance, he can see how wild Stone’s eyes look and how abnormally labored his breathing has become. Robotnik frowns. “...Stone? Perhaps you’d better get back in the water, you–”

A low growl rumbles in Stone’s throat, and before Robotnik can react he’s being tackled to the floor by a merman. Robotnik sputters a surprised curse, his fall softened by Stone’s arms around his head and shoulders to cushion the impact. Robotnik always knew getting killed by either his machines or his research subjects was a possibility - about .09%, actually - but it was unexpected, all the same. When a few seconds pass without the feeling of sharp teeth tearing into his flesh, however, Robotnik chances glancing up at his attacker. 

Stone leans over him, his chest heaving with harsh breaths, lips parted to reveal the barest hint of those terrifying teeth. His eyes are wide and wild, but again, something seems off. He doesn’t look hungry, he looks desperate. Emotional, perhaps. With his hands planted on either side of Robotnik’s head, he can’t sign what he’s thinking, but Robotnik isn’t certain he’s able to communicate anything in this state, anyway. 

Robotnik is wearing his control gloves. He can easily signal the badniks to end Stone’s life right here and now, but he doesn’t. Instead, he raises a hand to gently, experiementally touch the side of Stone’s face, fingertips trailing over Stone’s trembling jaw. 

“I think I understand,” Robotnik says softly. Stone’s eyes are dilating wildly, locked onto him with a longing that doesn’t need to be signed to be perfectly understood. “Alright, then. You’ve been a good boy all this time, haven’t you? You’ve done everything I’ve asked, and you’ve protected me as well as any of my machines. Whatever you need to do, go ahead.” 

Something flickers behind Stone’s eyes, something Robotnik has never seen there before. Stone leans down, opening his mouth wide and setting the tips of his teeth against the juncture between Robotnik’s neck and collarbone. Robotnik sucks in a breath just as those teeth sink into him, piercing through the thick material of his shirt like it’s nothing more than tissue paper. 

Robotnik hisses in pain, unable to stop himself from bringing his hands up to grab hold of Stone’s shoulders, not to pry him off, just for something to hold onto. He can feel his pulse throbbing frantically under Stone’s mouth, deafening in his own ears. Stone’s jaws are locked onto his shoulder like a vice but thankfully he doesn’t continue to bite down. He holds his position, his mouth impossibly hot against Robotnik’s newly punctured flesh. As Stone’s grip grows stronger his powerful tail moves to coil around Robotnik’s legs like a snake strangling its prey, holding the Doctor firmly in place.

Robotnik has never felt so helpless in all his life. He’s in pain, he’s immobilized, and he’s completely at Stone’s mercy. At any moment Stone could decide to rip his throat out and end it all, but inexplicably, Robotnik knows he won’t. He can’t explain how he knows, but if he had to try, he would say he just has a feeling. Robotnik is not a man of feeling, not usually, but it’s almost as though Stone’s intention is infectious, spreading to Robotnik’s conscious mind like a virus. Stone makes him feel safe. It’s bizarre to claim he feels safe with an apex predator digging his teeth into him, but there’s no other way to describe how he feels at present. 

If Robotnik is being honest with himself, he knows exactly what Stone is doing. He’s known for some time, ever since he sussed out the reason behind the luminescent spots appearing on Stone’s fins, or noticed how extremely overprotective Stone was over his wellbeing. Stone wants Robotnik to be his mate. And although it defies all logic and reason, Robotnik isn’t against the idea. 

It’s too late for regrets, even if he had them. The moment he’d given Stone consent to mark him he’d sealed the deal. Although it's a foreign concept to him, Robotnik relents, relaxing his body into Stone’s hold. Stone utters a soft, pleased growl, his tail curling around Robotnik all the more snugly.

.

.

.

“Good lord,” Robotnik mumbles, standing shirtless in front of one of his monitors, using his badnik’s camera to view his wounds. An almost perfectly symmetrical circle of teeth marks covers his neck and collarbone, still bleeding. He dabs the emerging blood with a cloth. “You’re lucky I like turtlenecks, Stone, because I’m going to be wearing one for the rest of my life to cover these up. I hope you’re happy.” Behind him, Stone ceases his contented, languid circles in his tank to come to the surface with a big, dopey grin on his face. His mood has done a complete one-eighty since being allowed to bite the Doctor, and Robotnik doesn’t know exactly how that makes him feel.

Don’t cover them when it’s just the two of us. I want to see them.

Robotnik scoffs, though he can’t ignore the way his face heats up. “Don’t think that just because I gave you a little bit of freedom you get to order me around,” he growls. “Now that you’ve gotten what you wanted, does this mean you’ll stop ripping agents to pieces if they stand less than five feet away from me?”

It depends on how close they get.

“Stone!” Robotnik squeezes the bridge of his nose, exhaling a frustrated sigh. “I suppose you don’t want me to treat the wound either, despite how many diseases you just probably gave me.”

Stone leans on the edge of the tank. Come over here. Robotnik shoots him a suspicious glare. Please?

Robotnik rolls his eyes, stomping back over to the tank. Stone reaches out carefully, guiding Robotnik closer, and he pushes himself out of the tank just enough to brush his lips over the puncture wounds. For a moment Robotnik wonders if Stone is going to bite him again - maybe once wasn’t enough - but instead, Stone’s long, narrow tongue laps gently against his wounds, sending a chill flying up Robotnik’s spine.

“Wha– What the hell do you think you’re doing?!” Despite his protests, Robotnik barely moves, allowing Stone to continue his ministrations. A musical trill sounds from Stone’s throat as his hands answer Robotnik’s inquiry. 

Helping you feel better. 

As difficult as it was to admit, it was working. The stinging pain was beginning to fade away, replaced with a pleasant, tingling warmth that spreads into his neck and down into his shoulder. 

“F-fascinating. Remind me to take another sample of your saliva later,” Robotnik says, biting his lower lip to prevent an unbecoming moan from spilling out. When Stone is satisfied with his work, he leans his arms on the edge of the tank, that grin still infuriatingly plastered onto his face. The spots on his fins are glowing so brightly Robotnik worries he’ll burn himself out. 

Feel better? Stone signs. 

Robotnik clears his throat, the heat in his face growing stronger. “The pain is irrelevant, it’s the scarring I’m worried about.”

Stone rests his chin in his palm, his eyes trailing from Robotnik’s face to the red-pink mark on his neck. Don’t be worried. My marks look beautiful on you.

Robotnik reaches out to grab Stone’s hands, desperate to make him stop talking. His words are doing something to Robotnik’s chest that he can’t explain, and for once, he’s in no hurry to figure it out.

[sushisocks]

MORE MACSUMMER I BEG

I GOT YOU ANON!!!! Here's an assortment of MORE silly goofy headcanons about my favorite silly goofy couple <3

These bitches are COMPETITIVE!! Anything can be a race or a bet between them, to the detriment of EVERYONE else. A friendly rivalry over who between them can bring in the most for the camp isn't enough, they're also betting on whether or not Sean'll eat that fisheye Pearson just discarded, or whether Lenny can shotgun a can of soup before Sean counts to 20. A lot of their less-destructive dares are food-consumption-related, yes, how did you know?

They’ve almost broken their legs and arms several times over with the racing, though. They’ve been scruffed by Arthur about just as many times.

Yes, Lenny is a morosexual. Yes, being around Sean debuffs his impulse control. Part of the fun is that they’re always egging eachother on!!

Meanwhile Sean’s type is very much ‘down to earth, smart, with a fun streak’ and Lenny checks all the boxes. He likes the push-and-pull Lenny offers, as someone who’s unafraid to call Sean on his BS while also going along on the more lighthearted stuff.

(Granted, ‘lighthearted’ in this context may or may not include robbery and arson!)

The inside jokes are neverending; Sean can, like, hold up a spoon and waggle his eyebrows and that'll mean something that has Lenny in hysterics.

Sean might not be that inclined towards reading for himself, but he LOVES listening to Lenny's voice, and will often ask Lenny to read aloud. It doesn't matter if it's a news article, a children's story, or the driest factual book on the face of the planet; if Lenny is reading it to him, Sean will remember what he hears up until the moment he starts dozing off. If Lenny quits too early, Sean will wake right back up and demand he continues until he starts dozing again.

They’ve been stuck in that loop for hours before, but the clue is to let Sean fall asleep properly before Lenny can rest his voice - he’s a lot more willing to do this when he realizes it’s one of the only surefire ways for Sean to NOT have a nightmare <3

They are SO “We aren’t joined at the hip!!” *is actually joined at the hip* core, to me. Lenny will be like ‘I can go on this job on my own!😤’ and then come back and beeline towards Sean to tell him how it went. 

You know that one comic that’s like “I gotta pee” “Ok” and then they walk away hand in hand? Literally. They don’t even realize this is what they’re like!

They’re VERY good at keeping arguments or fights private; the gang only notices because those are the only times they’re not constantly around each other, beyond camp/gang duties. The fights never last long, and are never that serious - they're usually good and back to normal within a day or so.

Their most public fights are the ones they have when they’re drunk, and they only really consist of them fussing over each other. “Did you have any water, Len? I’ll grab you some water.” “Are you cold, Sean? Here, take this blanket” <- They’re both slurring, wobbling, and can’t see straight. The second one of them stands, the other is yelling at them to sit down bcz they’ll break a leg after two steps, so nothing actually gets done or fetched, unless it’s within arms reach (and that's usually more liquor). It’s a whole thing; they’re both of the mind that ‘No! You shouldn’t take care of me, you’re drunk, I’m taking care of YOU!’ and SURPRISE it’s like another competition where they can't let the other win. See Lenny grabbing Sean by the ankle while Sean's trying to drag himself towards the water canteen, and now they're yelling and wrestling in the dirt over it. It’s stupid but entertaining for anyone witnessing them, if nothing else <3

Sean has a tendency to get lost, and Lenny is usually the one who ends up looking for/finding him. Sometimes it’s not even that Sean is lost, just distracted, and Lenny will join him in whatever misadventure he’s found himself on. Other times that distraction means Lenny finding him in like a field 30 minutes from camp, and promptly laughing his ass off bcz Sean is high in a tree after pissing off a bull or smth.

[fat-oc-battle]

nero blue (he/they, bleak limiter) character & art by @pink-karnery

In the Bleak Limiter narrative, I would describe Nero as a character that can be very shy and quiet in the beginning of the narrative. However, once meeting Nameless Nineth (He/Him), he turns out to be very bold, sarcastic, and very head strong and very stubborn to a point. Of course, all that changes once Nameless, their dear friend goes missing one day. Nero isn’t sure why he left like that, or if he had said something to make them want to leave the group so Nero has no choice but to take the place as leader and help Nameless with his goals, Nero ends up distracted but a peculiar fellow that once to help Him and CC (He/Him) look beyond the plans of Nameless and do something even better. How this effects the duo, well you just have to wait and see ;]

Nero comes from a big family and is the second oldest. They get along well with most of their siblings however, he tends to get in arguments with their older sister sometimes. They have a rocky relationship with each other, so Nero seldom talks to her. However, they eventually get along better as the series goes on. Nero also gets along well with their parents! He is very thankful for them because they agreed to keep K’areena (His girlfriend later in the narrative) to stay with them when she and her brother ran away from their abusive family. Nero is 23 years old and is agender. They discovered they were agender with the help of K’areena when they were 14. It was also around the time that K’areena realized she’s a trans girl. Both Nero and K’areena loved to explore their fashion sense because of that. It ended up being one of their favorite past times. Finding clothes that are affirming for them.

Nero also likes to make and collect plushies and has a pet rat named Luz. Nero can be a bit of a loner sometimes so you may often see them in their room by themselves doing their own thing. There is a chance they might be on the autism spectrum! Feel free to interpret that as you wish, would love to see what head canons you all have regarding that :>

main blog, main insta, oc insta

VS.

comet crasher/crash (it, my hero academia) character & art by @phantom-provocateur

Crash is a pro hero and science teacher for UA High and takes both jobs very seriously! It'll do anything it can to protect its students from villains and make sure they don't fall behind their peers in class. It really enjoys science and especially likes to focus on quirk science and the various non-hero uses quirks can have in current day society. When it's not on the clock it likes to spend time with its spouses and children just hanging out and doing whatever. It especially likes going for walks, watching american-style football and watching/participating in mountain-biking races though :)

crash's toyhou.se

[always-andromeda]

perhaps a white chocolate truffle + eddie? <3

your stuff helped distract me through a lot of my painful oral surgery recovery, so maybe something where eddie is helping his love recover from a surgery or an illness, or just any kind of fluff that you enjoy writing? :) i love your characterizations and writing style! <3

– 𝐒𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐓𝐨 𝐖𝐚𝐭��𝐡 𝐎𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐌𝐞

𝐄𝐝𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐍𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐆𝐍!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: I'm so sorry this has taken so long to publish, anon!! but I will have you know that every time I went past this ask in my inbox, it made me almost tear up. thank you so much for your encouragement, dear. I hope that this blurb fits what you were looking for!

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: reader has their wisdom teeth removed, pet names (sweetheart), complete and utter fluff, nothing else I can think of!

Edward had been nothing but a pure sweetheart. If your jaw didn't already hurt, you were sure his attitude would've given you a toothache. The second you mentioned you were getting your wisdom teeth removed, Edward put himself completely at your disposal.

First, he insisted upon taking you to the appointment and back. Even though you argued that you'd just use a ride sharing service, he was all too eager to use up one of his few vacation days to help out. And as if that wasn't enough, he dumped even more of his time into the matter reading up on the recovery process. Edward had never been able to afford to go to a dentist. So his lack of knowledge was his excuse for hyper focusing on article after article from various medical journals for a few hours at a time.

By the time the day came, he sat nervously in the waiting room, almost as if he was expecting the dentist to run out, declaring that something had gone wrong during the surgery and they needed a volunteer. Edward had read so much that he was convinced that he could absolutely do it if he was needed.

Thankfully, though, the procedure went swimmingly. Before too long, you were wandering out of the exam room. Your gait was clumsy and slow; almost like you were lost. But the second your eye caught Edward's figure standing awkwardly by the front desk, you gravitated towards him. As he helped you pay, you were practically latched to him with your arms around his forearms.

The woman behind the counter ran through the recovery process, to which Edward only half listened to. He was far too preoccupied with the sound of you humming contentedly through the gauze in your mouth. And that would set the tone for the trip home as you came down from the anesthetic.

During the drive, you shifted wildly between trying to tell him about a dream you'd had the night before, tearing up at how nice the dentist had been, and pointing to random things on the side of the road.

He drove by a trash can and you pointed, calling it to attention with a muffled, "Trash!"

Edward rolled his eyes and mumbled, "That's right, sweetheart, that's a trash can."

He chuckled when you added in amazement, "Woooow." Yeah, it was definitely a good thing that you were safe with him and not at the will of some random Uber driver.

A little under half an hour later, Edward was ushering you into his apartment. You were finally starting to come back to reality a bit more and the pain was setting in. But of course, Edward had that covered.

He led you to the living room where his beloved recliner resided; already set up with a pillow and a blanket. He let you get yourself comfortable and disappeared into his little kitchen, giving you a chance to shake your head in disbelief. Why he was so willing to go above and beyond for you, you had no idea.

More than any other partner you'd had, Edward was incredibly attentive. There was no length that was too far for the poor man. And though you sometimes felt bad for how committed he was, you had to admit...it felt nice being looked after and cared for with such fierceness.

So as soon he emerged from the kitchen with an ice pack in hand, you gave him the fondest smile you could manage, earning a giggle from Edward. You quirked an eyebrow at him.

"Your mouth is still a little numb," he muttered, nodding at the lopsided smile that had crept up the side of your face.

Before you could feel silly for it, Edward brushed the matter away entirely by handing you the ice pack and instructing, "Here, hold this against one side of your jaw for about fifteen minutes. Then you can switch it to the other side and do another fifteen minutes. It should help with the swelling over the next few days."

You didn't know why Edward even bothered to mention the fifteen minute part. Because his eye was firmly on the clock the whole time and he reminded you to switch over himself. You did what you were told, not having the heart to express any sort of ungratefulness at how doting he was towards you. Because as much as you valued your independence, you knew how much these kinds of things meant to him.

Being able to take care of something or someone was the way he showed his love. So you kicked back and tried to let yourself embrace it. The only thing you wouldn't let him give you was the TV remote.

"I'm super tired, Eddie," you yawned. "I'm probably going to fall asleep anyways. You can turn on whatever you want."

Edward's wide eyes blinked at you. "Are you sure you don't want something to eat before you fall asleep?"

You sighed, "No thank you, sweetheart. I'm not hungry yet. Maybe after I have a nap."

Despite the fact that he had a couch in the same room, Edward settled beside your hanging legs on the floor. He reached up to hold your hand as he turned the television on, flipping through the channels. He laughed softly, "Alright. Whenever you do wake up though, there's yogurt in the fridge and applesauce in the cupboard that are both screaming your name."

Your eyelids fluttered shut and you caressed his fingers in your hand. "Lucky me. Can't wait..." you drifted off.

After a few minutes, Edward felt your grip on his hand soften. He laid his head back, finally allowing himself to feel a shred of satisfaction as you snoozed. There was no way in hell that he would ever let you go through anything alone. No matter how big or small the matter might be, Edward would always be ready to care for you as best as he can.

[jkuniverz]

Ok, first long MSM post, let’s see how this goes.

Do you ever think about how all the Rare Core Seasonals follow a specific design principle? While the Commons are basic embodiments of whatever holiday they’re meant to represent, the Rares tend to take a negative aspect of that holiday and incorporate it into their design.

For example, let’s look at Punkleton for a second:

Pumpkin head, skeletal body, autumnal leaves decorating the neck and arms- yup, this sure is a Halloween Monster all right!

So what about Rare Punkleton then?

Well, since the poor guys’s head decomposes faster than usual, it dresses up in a paper bag to help hide itself from other Monsters. It’s taking the Halloween aspect of costumes and dressing up and using it to cover up this Monster’s insecurity, especially since it uses a brown paper bag to cover its head, which often in media represents embarrassment or shame at oneself.

I’m not sure if I did the *best* job at describing that, but looking at the other Rare Core Seasonals will hopefully better convey what I mean.

So, we’ve got:

-Rare Yool: based off of the Grinch and social outcasts

-Rare Schmoochle: have had conflicts and quarrels with one another

-Rare Blabbit: inversely steals Monster Eggs and covers its tracks well

-Rare Hoola: uses their extra hoop to distract Monsters while tricking them

…Ok, so the theme between them is a little loose, but hopefully you’re able to understand what I’m getting at. There’s some negative aspect to its respective holidays that the Rare Seasonals incorporate into its design and lore.

…but that’s just the Rare Core Seasonals. What about the Rare Auxiliary Seasonals? Do they follow this design principle as well?

Let’s take a look at the current 3 Rare Auxiliary Seasonals:

Rare Gobbleygourds have an indomitable will to try and fly- it’s all they really do. How this is supposed to be a negative aspect of Thanksgiving is… beyond me. Maybe it’s that it mirrors Gobbleygourd’s intense desire to feed everyone during Feast-Ember, but all Rare Gobbleygourd does it hurt itself? I don’t know.

All that we know about Rare Jam Boree is that it’s made of chocolate (or rather, chokkolit), and it may have something to do with poems, as it’s ingame Bio reads like one. Maybe Rare Jam Boree likes to write poems in celebration of events? It’s definitely a more deep and meaningful way to celebrate, by writing it down in contrast to plain partying, so there’s that.

Finally, there’s Rare Clavavera. I’m not too familiar with the Day of the Dead holiday, so I don’t really feel confident about pointing out any sort of reference it may have to its real life holiday equivalent. Though, it’s Bio does state that, “Unique to the Rare… is a special interest in writing of short, witty verses that poke light-hearted fun at those same ancestors”, so that may be the aspect of the Monster that fits with the Rare Seasonal theme?… though, I can’t say for sure.

It doesn’t look like the old Rare Seasonal design philosophy is being followed necessarily anymore, at least not with my analysis. Maybe it is, and I’m just not realizing it. Maybe there’s no such thing as a design theme with Rare Seasonals and I’m just a crazy man on the internet rambling about something that doesn’t matter. Regardless of that, I’m going to make small predictions for the next two Rare Aux Seasonals anyways that follow this probably made-up theme, and no one’s going to stop me.

The next Rare Seasonal to be released will be Rare Carillong, coming sometime soon. For it, I predict it to be based off of/poke fun at New Year Resolutions, and more specifically, how no one can ever follow them. The design would be more rugged and unkempt compared to the Common Carillong’s, maybe with frizzled hair, wear showing on the Chimekeeper, and so on. It’d be funny to imagine Rare Carillong as a hypocrite, preaching about turning over a new leaf and setting goals at the start of the year that it itself clearly doesn’t follow.

After that, we’ve got Rare Ffidyll, which I think would be cool if it were the unluckies Monster in the Monster World. Its nose can only sniff out disaster instead of money, it would look slightly beaten from all sorts of comical trouble it’s gotten in, and to show how unlucky it is, its clover hat would only have three petals.

Will these be accurate predictions for the next two Rare Aux Seasonals, following this theme I may have made up? Probably not. But it would be funny!

[mystery-moose]

Someone in my life posed some interesting questions about stories recently! In considering them I figured I'd keep a record of my thoughts here on my tumblr web log, because what void should I holler into if not this one?

First, how I think about stories. I try to avoid thinking about them as morality plays or parables (mostly because this can keep me from engaging with challenging art) but I also don't like thinking about them purely as escapism. Each story has a reason it exists, whether that's entertainment, communication, or contemplation. They're designed to draw out our empathy, communicate a feeling, create a mood. Sometimes that's in service of something important to the author. Other times, it's something meant to distract. I don't judge a story based on its pretensions, or on its naked commercialism -- I try to judge based on its execution, how it's doing what it's doing, and how well it succeeds. There are great artists right now working solely with other people's licenses, doing work-for-hire gigs, and their skills are just as worthy of praise and appreciation as the latest semi-original high-concept novel hanging in the middle of the New York Times bestseller list.

Basically, I think about stories like stories! Or, if I absolutely have to be metaphorical, like buildings. Are the foundations strong? Is it doing anything special? Can I navigate it easily? How accessible is it? That last matters a lot to me, because it doesn't matter how cool the interior is if most people can't find their way inside.

Second, what do I need a story to do to recommend it to someone else? I'm gonna go with "accessibility" at the top, not in the disability sense but the populist one. Yeah, playing to the cheap seats can hurt a story a lot, and you obviously can't please everyone, but ignoring your audience doesn't make me appreciate your story much myself, let alone get me to recommend it to anyone else. You have to find a balance where what you're communicating isn't absolute nonsense to most of your audience. Not all! Just most. Effective communication of your thoughts, feelings, and ideas to a layman is something I think a lot of storytellers could stand to care about more when it comes to honing their craft, and that goes for folks outside of the arts especially. So if I find a story with a big concept, beautiful craft, intense emotion, and it's not too esoteric or inaccessibly written? That's great art in my book, and I'll tell everyone about it.

Next, what do I look for in stories? Now that is a tough one... I guess, beyond sheer execution (if your prose is good enough you can take me almost anywhere) I look for something that makes me care about its characters as it introduces me to their world, and does so without me feeling like I'm being told why I should care about the characters or what their world is like. This goes for everything from period pieces to stories set in places or communities I'm unfamiliar with, just as much as it goes for fantasy or science-fiction. I do generally have to care about the characters in a piece to really devote a significant amount of time to a story, though. If I don't, the other elements of the work (craft, originality, feeling) have to carry a whole lot more of the weight in order to get me to finish something.

What are red flags for me? Honestly, a big one is feeling either preached or condescended to. Even if it's politics or perspectives I agree with, if I feel like I'm being told what to think rather than thinking it on my own, or if I simply think the author doesn't trust me to understand what they're trying to say? I check out. Beyond that, when a story excuses terrible behavior in the interests of forcing me to sympathize with a character the author clearly favors, I also check out. There's other stuff too -- I don't much care for certain tropes when they feel obvious or sufficiently undisguised (at least try to put some kind of spin on it!) -- but those are the big ones I think. If I see those, my desire to continue drops real sharp.

A recent example of a story I really loved, because I try to stay positive: earlier this year I finished a book called A Memory Called Empire by Arkady Martine, which almost instantly became one of my favorite stories. I had to sit with my feelings for days before I really settled on that, too! I worry about recency bias sometimes, that an impact will dull with time, but Empire has lived in my head since I read it. It's a well-told and compelling yarn that dips into a number of my favorite genres (science-fiction, murder-mystery, political intrigue, thriller) told from one of my favorite POVs (first-person) that also happens to dig into concepts that I find super cool and interesting! Things like history, how it's recorded, who makes it, what matters versus what historians only think matters. Things like the colonialism, cultural imperialism, and the politics of empire -- the pressure of being a small community being subsumed by a larger, more dominant one, the complicated nature of being a person from two worlds, whether by choice or by birth, and so on. It's got a lot of thoughts about that stuff, and it can't touch on all of them with the depth that they deserve, but it knows enough to know there's no easy answer for a lot of its questions, and it manages to make that feel like a natural conclusion rather than a copout. A great novel, and one I recommend to most everyone I know!

One I'm still in the middle of that I need to get back to: Gene Wolfe's Book of the New Sun. That's a work that I think is a bit inaccessible, with characters that I don't necessarily love (the protagonist is a professional torturer, if that tells you anything) but the sheer craft on display... my god. There are whole sections I've read, passages that describe a feeling that I've had before but never put to words, and it expresses them so effectively and with such excellent language that it carries me forward on those passages even when I'm unsure what this person's quest is or whether or not I even like them. And that's to say nothing of the depth of the text itself -- Ursula K. Le Guin famously called Gene Wolfe genre fiction's Herman Melville, and that's been borne out in what I've read so far. I've been listening to the Shelved by Genre podcast as I've been reading the book, and their own insights and analysis illuminate whole sections of the text that I would never have noticed otherwise, or would have without knowing exactly why! Awesome stuff.

[stainedglasstruth]

Left And Leaving || Xóchitl & Arden

TIMING: June LOCATION: The Wormhole PARTIES: Xóchitl (@vanishingreyes) & Arden (@stainedglasstruth) SUMMARY: Childhood friends meet at the bar. There's a bit of catching up, and a bit more as well. CONTENT WARNINGS: Alcoholism & child death tw

She’d never been inside a bar in town before she’d returned back “home” – if calling it home made sense. Xóchitl knew that by all technical accounts, it did. After all, she’d been born in Wicked’s Rest, and if not for certain exceedingly unfortunate events, she would have still lived there, all throughout her childhood and beyond. There were very clear reasons why that hadn’t happened, but still. Sometimes she didn’t even like calling the town home, no matter how true it might’ve been.

Still, she’d never been in a bar as a kid, and had somehow avoided it until now (drinking at home was preferable in some ways), but tonight Xóchitl had very explicitly decided to go out, to dress hot or whatever that was, and just not think about anything else, because being at home allowed her to get too much into her head in a way that she certainly didn’t like. It made her feel itchy, like when Mama had gotten her to wear a wool sweater one winter and she’d spent the whole night at the Nutcracker itching at her arms.

She was only half a drink in when she heard someone near her, and she turned to face them - their face familiar, though it was taking Xóchitl slightly longer than she would’ve liked to remember - except then she did and – “Arden!” She grinned. “Guess we’re both old enough to drink now, huh? You look great.”

Arden had a bit of a love/hate relationship with bars. In Boston, she had hit up the bars regularly, looking for drinks or a hookup. The drinks helped her loosen up and get out of her head for a while, and the hookups were a whole other kind of distraction from the mess in her head. She would flirt and mingle, sometimes even get a juicy little bit of information when she hadn’t been looking for any. However, she wasn’t the biggest fan of being surrounded by a lot of people, even less so when they were loud and drunk. But the past several weeks had been a little chaotic for the woman, and she could stand to blow off some steam. 

She was sitting at the bar, and was just about to order a second drink, when she heard her name. Turning her attention to the nearby– beautiful– woman, she did look somewhat familiar. “Hey,” she said cautiously, trying to rack her brain as to where she knew this person from. It took her a little too long to place her, and the ‘I’m sorry, but do I know you’ was halfway out of her mouth when something clicked and Arden’s brows jumped up. “Holy shit, Xóchitl?” A smile was spreading across her face as years old memories flitted past her mind’s eye. “I didn’t know you were back in town. How are you? How have you been? 

“Ha, thank you. You look– I mean, damn.” She laughed it off, not wanting to make the other uncomfortable or anything. But, like, damn, though. Wicked’s Rest was truly going to kill her, if not from the magic and monsters, then from the sheer amount of ridiculously hot people living there. 

“Just since March. I’m well, been well, I’ve got a PhD now, which isn’t too shabby, I don’t think.” Screw it, she was allowed to brag and be proud of herself, wasn’t she? Xóchitl hadn’t seen Arden since she’d left Wicked’s Rest years ago, and though they’d never been as close as she’d been with Mackenzie, they had known each other and had been friends at least to some degree, hadn’t they? So it was simultaneously comforting and alarming to see someone who’d known her when she still wore multi-colored uncoordinated outfits and wasn’t set into a state of panic by playgrounds.

But right now, Arden was complimenting her looks and so she could relish in that, focus on that, all instead of focusing on her past. “I’ll take your damn and turn it right back to you.” Xóchitl smirked. “But thank you very much, I’m glad this outfit highlights my looks.” She tended to dress in a way that would be flattering to her, but her outfits for bars were far different from her outfits for daily life or work. “Can I buy you a drink?”

It was strange and a bit anxiety inducing, seeing one of the very few friends she had had as a child again. Between being more extroverted than she was now, her insatiable curiosity, and the fact that she had still been learning to read and socialize with others, Arden had been kind of annoying on top of being the bookish nerd. Turns out, that wasn’t the best combination of traits if you wanted to make friends. Xóchitl had always been kind, though. She had known they weren’t the best of friends, that title reserved for Mackenzie, whose sudden death had been difficult for her to process at such a young age, and they weren’t very close at all. It had to have been so incredibly difficult for Xó. 

Honestly, her parents’ decision to move away from this town had probably been the best call. Mackenzie had only been the first person Arden had known to be taken by Wicked’s Rest, there had been plenty of others– classmates, parents, siblings, friends, friends of friends. If you lived here long enough, you were likely only two, maybe three degrees of separation away from someone who had died. Unfortunately, it seemed she wasn’t the only one drawn back to the town. She just hoped Xóchitl wouldn’t grow to regret that decision. 

But for now they were in a bar, they were having drinks, and they were reconnecting– her bummer train of thought needed to go. She took a swig of her drink as she focused on the other’s words. “Well, welcome back,” Arden grinned. “Oh, damn, a doctorate? I even might go as far as to say that’s impressive.” The friendly smile curled up, a bit more mischievous, especially as Xó volleyed the damn right back to her. “Only if I can buy you one, as well.”

“I was never one to turn down a drink from a friend, or a pretty woman. Since you happen to be both, I’m pretty positive I’m legally not allowed to say no.” Xóchitl shrugged. “But I’m not any sort of law expert, so if you think differently, I’ll understand…” Because focusing on the fact that Arden had known her (and known her well) as a child was weird and simultaneously deeply uncomfortable and some of the most relaxed she’d felt since arriving. Comfort in uncomfortable situations. Like when she got into her mom’s car and it was so hot that she got cold.

This was kind of like that, except her legs didn’t stick to the seat and she couldn’t daydream without actually being rude.

She didn’t want to be rude to Arden, of all people. Mackenzie had been her first (and best) friend, but Arden had been around a great deal, and she’d always been kind to Xóchitl, even if Xóchitl didn’t always understand what she was talking about. “Still reading like nobody’s business?” She raised one of her eyebrows. “If you can believe it, I like reading now more than I used to.” Just not fantasy stories. That much she loathed. 

She laughed, cheeks reddening slightly at the compliment. “Well, we can’t have you getting into trouble on my account. Besides, I tend to live my life by a similar philosophy.” As some who also liked drinks and women, and flirting with women, Arden certainly wasn’t going to say no. It didn’t have to lead to anything, but, seeing as Xóchitl was back in town, it would be nice to catch up with her. 

“Yes,” she chuckled, running a hand through her hair. “More so for work than pleasure, unfortunately.” That sheepish feeling flared, thinking about how Xó had only seen her at her most uncouth. There wasn’t really anyone else she could say the same about, wasn’t really anyone else she had been close to at such a young age. It was a strange feeling– an embarrassing one, too. But it was fine, they had been kids then, it wasn’t a big deal, she tried to tell herself that. Anyway, it went down a little easier with whiskey. 

“We love to see it,” she grinned. “Have you stopped by Fully Booked in Oldtown yet?” Arden couldn’t help herself; she was proud of Leah for running her own business, and it being a bookstore– a great bookstore– made it that much better. Her friend found a way to make a living off of something she loved, and it warmed her heart to see. It was nice to hear that Xóchitl had done well for herself, as well. It all felt so… adult– in a way that still felt strange sometimes, even more so now that she was back in her hometown. 

“Exactly, can’t have me getting into legal trouble, what a shame that would be.” The grin didn’t leave her face, if anything, it only grew more prominent as they seemed to easily slide into some sort of familiar pattern despite not having seen one another in years - and Xóchitl also had, admittedly, not reached out, but then again, neither had Arden, so she wasn’t about to go throwing blame, but if that were the case, they were equally at fault, here. Except that neither of them were at fault because things changed, and that was that.

“Well, that’s a bummer, and I’m of the belief that pleasure should be chosen whenever possible.” Which, yes, perhaps held a bit more of a double meaning than she maybe had fully intended, but she didn’t really mind too much. Going with the flow seemed to be the right sort of choice for this evening. Or it would have to be, Xóchitl decided. 

“I have.” Even if she didn’t have a lot of free time (though that was more by her own choice than her actual obligations), bookstores were good sorts of places to go. “It’s a wonderful store.” It was, and the woman who ran it looked somewhat familiar though Xóchitl couldn’t quite place her. “What drink do you want?”

”A terrible shame,“ she nodded, breathing out a laugh. ”If worse came to worse, though, you'd have a killer mugshot.“

“Is that so?” Arden asked, cocking an eyebrow. Xóchitl was quite a flirt, and regardless of where the night would take them, they had an easy banter going that she was really enjoying. “Sounds like a good way to live life.” After downing what was left of her whiskey, she turned down the flirty energy a little as she offered up some actual information about herself. “I do love my job, though …you know, generally speaking.“ She decided to only give Xó the highlights for now. There was no need to kill the mood with all of the bummer details. “I got my Masters in journalism here, left town for a few years, and now I'm back and working at the paper– Something Wicked.”

”Isn't it?” Her smile shifted into something slightly more soft as she thought of Leah and the store. “I am definitely biased, being best friends with the owner, but it really is a great little bookshop. Anyway, that's enough of the unintentional plugs,“ she grinned, poking fun at herself. ”I'll take a whiskey on the rocks. What can I get you?“

“Well, at least that’s something.” Xóchitl offered a rue smile. “Though I suppose I’d prefer to be photographed in better lighting than a jail.” The words felt fumbled, to a degree. More awkward than they should have been, when speaking to a friend. Though, she supposed, she couldn’t be faulted given that they hadn’t been in contact in two decades, and Xóchitl was, probably, best known for being Mackenzie’s friend, back then.

“It is so.” This was easier territory, one where she could flirt with abandon, without having to care too much at all. “It does make a nice way to live life, and I suppose it keeps me from ever being bored.” It also just plain kept her distracted, but that was a less fun way of putting things. Xóchitl nodded, “that’s good. It’s good to enjoy your job, and I hope you enjoy your work at the paper. Can’t say I can complain too much about my job.”

Another nod. “I don’t mind you being prideful in things like this, and it’s nice to know about new things in this town.” Xóchitl thought a moment, “tequila on the rocks for me, please. I just like how it goes down.”

“Yeah, I don’t think they’re using any ring lights for those mugshots.” What the fuck was she even saying? That second round couldn’t come soon enough. 

It made her grin, but she did have to wonder if it was purely innuendo or not. In the past few years, she had had her fair share of flings, but Arden couldn’t really say that she had made choices that ultimately lead to a pleasureful life. She had chosen short-term pleasure, sure, but, well, that exactly didn’t last, did it? She certainly hadn’t been bored, but then again, she wasn’t the kind of person who did well with sitting still. Be it work or sex or research, she always felt as if she needed to be doing something, had to keep running. It had just left her lonely and miserable, though. However, Xóchitl wasn’t her and projecting that onto her would be a mistake. 

“I do,” she nodded. Mostly. She didn’t exactly love having to twist the truth in her reporting, but as a Scribe she was in the unique position of having enough knowledge to do it well, being aware of many of the various threats in the town, how dangerous they were, how to hopefully keep people safe, to keep history from repeating itself. And there were a lot of things for her to investigate in Wicked’s Rest. “Even with all the tight deadlines,” she joked, pursing her lips. “What exactly are you doing with that impressive PhD of yours?”

Arden flashed her a slightly sheepish smile. “Noted.” As Xó shared her drink of choice she nodded, motioning to the bartender to add it to her tab. She bit back her smirk, wondering if that was another innuendo or her mind was just in the gutter. “I can definitely appreciate a good tequila myself.”

“Maybe in like, Los Angeles or something, but sure as shit not here.” It didn’t make sense, and Xóchitl knew that, but apparently talking nonsense was her theme of the evening. Which certainly was an interesting first impression on someone she hadn’t seen since they were literal children.

She hadn’t exactly sought real connection with most anyone, recently. In fact, Xóchitl did make almost a concerted sort of effort to not connect, which made flings easier, when things didn’t matter. Not that whomever she slept with didn’t matter, but by having them not become someone close to her, she negated the possibility of losing somebody important. To her, that was. Everyone was important to somebody but the selfish part of her said that maybe, just possibly, things didn’t matter as much if she didn’t feel a personal loss.

Which might have made her a bad person.

“I’m a clinical psychologist, and thank you very much for calling it impressive.” Xóchitl threw Arden another wink. “Though I’d venture to say that being a journalist is perhaps even more impressive. I do suppose that we each work to understand the world around us in our own sort of way, don’t we?”

“You should get one, then.” Xóchitl was flirting, but she wasn’t going to push anything, not if Arden didn’t want – the other woman could take the lead all she wanted, if she wanted. If not, just catching up itself was perfectly ideal.

It was a ridiculous response to her ridiculous statement and it made Arden laugh. She was grateful that Xó could ‘yes and’ her nonsense. It made sense in light of learning she was a psychologist– her old friend was charming, easy to talk to. They were settling into a fun, comfortable sort of banter, and she could imagine how her calm, confident demeanor would translate well into a more professional setting like that. 

She smiled at the attempt to turn the tables on her. “I don’t know, a psychologist, that’s very impressive,” she smirked, quirking an eyebrow at the other. Though her smile melted into something more genuine as she continued, “It’s admirable, helping people like that.” Certainly more admirable than her job felt these days, even if she knew she was doing the right thing. Either way, the doctor’s observation was rather astute. 

“That’s a good way to look at it, yeah.” She often found her writing process was like solving a puzzle. First she gathered all the pieces, and then she arranged them into a coherent narrative. In that way, she supposed it was like trying to understand the news, the world, even, as if it were a book she was trying to analyze. Because it always came back to books for her, didn’t it?

With Xóchitl, though, she supposed the other woman found more sense in trying to understand how the mind worked, or even how other people saw the world. Which definitely sounded like a better, more logical way to go about things. It was certainly more realistic and involved than feeling like an outside observer trying to make sense of things like she was back in one of her old college lit classes. She couldn’t help but think that Xóchitl was the kind of woman Arden’s mother had always wanted her to be. 

And with that thought, some tequila did sound like a great idea, honestly. 

She smiled gratefully at the bartender for their amazing timing, taking a good sip of her whiskey as she shoved any and all thoughts of her mother as far away as humanly possible. Instead, she focused on the gorgeous woman beside her and that mischievous, flirty glint in her eyes. “You know, I think I will.” 

She wasn’t just talking about tequila. 

Arden’s laugh was nice. More than just nice, even, there was something of a relief in it – relief that she didn’t think Xóchitl was too much now, relief that they could still joke even though they’d been children the last time they saw each other, relief that she could still work things the way she wanted. Not that she’d been especially doubtful about the last of those things, she had always had at least something of an easy time working whatever room she found herself thrown into.

“I do what I can.” Xóchitl didn’t especially find herself keen to go into more of the depths behind why she’d ended up doing what she did. Even with Arden, who’d at least casually known Mackenzie, talking about her dead best friend was still a surefire way to kill any mood that might be developing. But she had to admit that being praised certainly wasn’t anything she intended to turn down anytime soon. It did still make her feel very (very) good.

She’d just wanted to know how people worked, to be able to understand the why behind so many things, in a desperate sort of way to at least attempt to solve problems. Namely, her own, and to figure out what had happened to Mackenzie, but figuring out things for other people wasn’t so bad at all. Xóchitl liked when she was able to bring relief to people, to help them. 

For all that she claimed not to care, she knew that she did, in fact, care. Arden did too, that much was clear, even if the other woman wasn’t being so very forthcoming about any of it.

The glint in the other woman’s eyes did feel nice. “I mean, you can also try mine, first, but I do deeply recommend it.” Xóchitl reached and brushed a tiny, hardly noticeable strand of hair away from Arden’s face. “Didn’t want anything to block your view – or my view of you.”

“Hey, that’s all anyone can ask for,” she shot back with an easy smile and a shrug of her shoulders. Though if Xóchitl was going to be practicing in Wicked’s Rest she would probably be facing a lot of weird shit, and quite a lot of heaviness, too. Arden hoped she would be able to handle it. There were certainly a lot of people in town who could use the help of a professional after things they’d witnessed or endured here. She had the potential to do a lot of good here– if the town didn’t scare her off. 

But she also had to wonder how much, if anything, Xó knew about the supernatural. Had she learned anything before they had left? Or had she learned anything after leaving wherever it had been that she had ended up? She was curious to know more about her, about why she had decided to come back after all these years the same way Arden herself had. However, those weren’t the kind of questions you could just spring on someone you hadn’t spoken to in decades. 

Besides, they were definitely flirting and having a nice time, she didn’t want to ruin that.

“In that case, you’re more than welcome to try mine, as well,” she offered. 

They had gradually been shifting closer to one another as their chat progressed, but Arden hadn’t been entirely conscious of how close they were until Xóchitl reached over to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. The move was maybe slightly cliché, but it was one that worked– she knew that from experience. And it was working on her, too, her cheeks warming despite herself. It helped that the view was rather alluring. “How very considerate of you. It is a gorgeous view, I must say. But, not just views, of course, doctor,” she added playfully.

“You make a very good point,” she replied, in turn. She’d never intended to return to town, not specifically at least. Though, Xóchitl supposed, the thought of it all had always rested somewhere in the back of her mind, ever since she’d left. Ever since her moms had packed up their house, a part of her knew she’d have to come back, because Mackenzie deserved that. Heck, she deserved that, to put an end to all the confusion she constantly felt. Not that her confusion had come to much of any sort of an end since she’d returned – if anything, being back around this town had only heightened her confusion. Her feelings of hollowness and loss – 

– which, she supposed, was part of why she found herself at bars more than she’d been in a number of years. Doing something to fill the confusing hollowness that sometimes seemed to be never ending. So flirting and drinking was good and let her take her mind off things, and, not that she felt like she needed it, but the boost of confidence that she got certainly didn’t help. 

Flirting with a former friend was maybe weird, but at the same time, Xóchitl had flirted with current friends before, and she hadn’t seen Arden in decades, either, and since they hadn’t exactly kept in touch, she figured that this was more akin to running into a vaguely familiar stranger. Not in any sort of bad way – if anything, it made everything about Arden just that much more alluring.

“Then I think I might.” She took Arden’s drink from her hand and took a small sip. “Not bad, you’ve got good taste.” Faint remnants of lipstick were on the rim of the glass, and Xóchitl knew how terribly clichéd all of this was, but there was another part of her that relished in the clichés.

“I do believe in getting to know things more intimately. Views rarely do justice to the actual thing.” Xóchitl winked. “And yes, you are quite a gorgeous view, in my highly trained opinion.”

She so did love to hear that. Call her conceited, but Arden loved being right, and hearing others admit to it, to tell her that, it was always a shot of dopamine straight to the brain. She really had thrived in a school environment. 

“I do try,” she grinned. But it was true. Xóchitl could downplay it all she wanted, but working as a psychologist, it was objectively admirable work. She wouldn’t make it weird and make a whole thing about it, but it was… nice knowing that the little girl she’d known had gone on to make this impressive life for herself, that she had, undoubtedly, worked her ass off to dedicate her life to helping others. 

…it also felt a little insane that someone her age was a doctor, that she had such an important, adult job, but that was neither here nor there.

They traded drinks, and Arden tried to be mindful of the fact that she was wearing lipstick as she took a sip from the other’s glass. Still, there were traces of maroon marks left as she handed it back over, the tequila going down rather smoothly. It was good, sweet and somewhat floral. “Mm,” she hummed, “likewise. Tequila’s not my go-to, but maybe I need to start switching it up a bit more.”

She was starting to feel the drinks a little now, a warmth settling in her stomach and spreading through her veins. Though, it wasn’t just the drinks, of course. 

“I couldn’t agree more,” she smirked. And the compliment only served to pull a chuckle out of her. “Oh, I don’t know, doc.” Her eyes flicked over Xóchitl’s form momentarily. “You might want to do a more thorough examination before you jump to any conclusions.” 

“Well, in my obviously unbiased opinion, I think you succeed quite well.” So maybe she liked complimenting people who so clearly enjoyed it. Especially because far too often she came across people who seemed to either not want the compliments, or give off a sense of false modesty around them. Xóchitl found herself far more confused by people not wanting the compliments, but she’d elected to not focus on that too much.

Or, at least, to try to not focus on that too much. Her successes varied based on the day – hell, even based on the hour.

But Arden was taking her compliments and rolling with them and that made the other woman all the more beautiful to Xóchitl. “I think you should try it more. I’d be happy to give you any amount of recommendations that you might want or need…” her voice trailed off as she took another sip of her drink, the way it made her mind feel halfway wavy and made her relax more than welcome.

Not to say that she wasn’t relaxed because of her drinking partner, but more because of… just about everything else in her life. Which was an exceedingly dramatic way to think about it, but screw that thought process, because Xóchitl knew she was allowed to feel whatever sort of way that she wanted to deal.

Arden’s eyes made their way over her body, and Xóchitl’s lips turned up into a properly mischievous grin that time. “I might not be that exact type of doctor, but I’d also be probably, like, totally inattentive if I didn’t. I will say, I’d much prefer to do the examination in private. Specifically my place. I do have more tequila there, too, you know, for extrinsic motivating factors.” Before she could think twice, she’d pressed her lips against Arden’s. “I promise to be very thorough.”

“Well, I very much appreciate it,” Arden smiled, feeling amused and maybe a little too self-satisfied. There was nothing like a compliment from a beautiful, intelligent woman to make you feel more confident in yourself. The drinks also helped, she supposed. 

“Coming from a woman with such good taste, I’ll gladly take any recommendations you might have.” …okay, that one felt like a little too much somehow. She chased the words with another sip of whiskey, and it helped them go down much more easily.  

Maybe the doctor shtick had been low-hanging fruit, but it was right there, she’d had to. “Exactly,” she grinned. She was trying to think of a witty response when Xóchitl closed the distance between them. It obviously wasn’t entirely unexpected, but it still managed to catch her off guard slightly. It took her mind a second to catch up, and by then the other woman was starting to pull away. Her lips chased Xó’s, needing to properly kiss her back before they separated, Arden grinning.

“How could I possibly say no to that?”

[ilikerpgs]

Friends

A little Breath of Fire 5 fanfic from Bosch's point of view. It happens sometime before the game plot.

Ryu and Bosch were once again on a Genic hunting mission. Their target is a particularly evasive Duke Leader, which has been seen somewhere near the city. It doesn't take long for the duo to find it - Leaders often are surrounded by other Dukes, smaller in size, but equally dangerous. The Leader stays in the back as it comands with hand movements and grunts its underlings. The battle begins.

At this point, Ryu and Bosch have enough experience to know how to deal with the situation. The mission goes smoothly at first, fortunelly for them, there aren't many enemies and most of them are quickly defeated. Soon there's only one Duke and the Duke Leader left. They're careful to not leave the latter alone - it's known Leaders will surely retreat as soon as they find themselves without back-up. While Ryu distracts the minion Duke, Bosch faces the big one. The mission is very close to an end.

Then, something unusual happens. Bosch misses his first hit. And the second, and the third... The Duke Leader turns out to be incredibly nimble! Or was Bosch just incompetent? The thought struck a nerve and Bosch hastily advances with one decisive blow. The Leader dodges, and while Bosch is still turning around to position, the Genic elevates its big axe over its head. Bosch hesitates. "Fear clouds your vision and hides your foe." The Leader swings its axe in his direction. "That way it only lies death." Bosch's vision darkens for a second, only for a metal against metal sound to break him out of his paralysis. Opening his eyes again, he sees Ryu's back. He was able to parry the blow with his sword just in time! Bosch stumbles back. "What are you doing?!" Ryu shouts. "Move! I can't hold much longer!"

Bosch quickly stands up and moves aside. Ryu's swords slides throught the axe blade and breaks in two. "Crap!" He rolls over, avoiding the Genic's weapon swing by very little, getting a cut in the leg in the process. Ryu takes distance, and with what is left of his sword still in hand, grab his bag in search of an item. Meawhile, with regained focus and rather annoyed, Bosch go back into his attack stance. Ryu finally finds what he was looking for, a bomb, but clumsily let it slip from his hand. "Ugh-!" He jumps towards it, only to find himself in front of the Duke Leader once again. This time Bosch finally is able to execute one of his sword moves, critically injuring the Genic, that falls on the floor. Ryu sighs in relief. He sits on the floor and put his stuff back in the bag. After looking around to confirm the mission sucess, he exchanges stares with Bosch, who scoffs him with a smirk. They were even now.

/// Back in the locker room, Ryu is bandaging his wound, while Bosch cleans his sword. Bosch takes a quick look of what remained from his partner's sword, the two old metal pieces that were right beside him. "You should get better gear." "Sure, when I get a promotion." Ryu laughed half-heartly. Having such low d-ratio, it was obvious that would never happen. /// They've been working together since the beggining, and yet Bosch never really knew Ryu's true intention for joining the Rangers. At all. Ryu came out of nowhere, a promising yound lad with a high sense of responsibility. A faster learner, he was able to handle the sword pretty well in only a few weeks, training whenever he could and often asking his felow ranger seniors for tips and tricks. And now even Bosch (begrudgingly) recongnized Ryu's skill level to be close to his own. Which he could only attribute to natural talent. Or luck.

How unfair. How did a nobody like him get so far? He would never go beyond his current rank. What did he work so hard for?! Living out of scraps, stuck in the lowest sector, with no prospects of a better life. There was no reason for being jealous of him, Bosch repeated to himself. He had nothing. No one. No one? He had Bosch. Were they friends? It's hard to tell. They're friendly towards each other, it's true. Despite their different backgrounds, as rangers they were equal. ///

Except Bosch had a goal… That included leaving Ryu behind. It was bound to happen eventually. "Did you ever wish to move up?" Bosch kept staring at his sword. "Move up? Like, in ranking? How high?" to what Bosch replied "Regent." Silence. "I'm not sure what I would do with that." Ryu replied "Ah!" "But I guess not worrying about making ends meet would be cool." Fool.

"Of course" Bosch said under his breath. Bosch smiles to himself. Ryu's apparent lack of ambition would be useful. "What was that?" "Nevermind. Here, buy a decent sword for once." Bosch throws a small bag with a few Zenny. "You sure?" Ryu lifts his eyebrows as he asks. "I can't have you dragging your feet in our missions." Bosch stands up. "See ya, partner." He goes out of the room, leaving Ryu pensive about the little exchange they just had.

THE END

[anime-fan93]

Hello! I’m here for an Encanto matchup please! Thank you so much for doing this by the way!

First things first, I’m an adult so I can’t be shipped with any minors, so no Camilo or Mirabel please. I’m also bisexual, so I don’t mind whether you ship me with a man or a woman. And by the way, I also have autism and stim by pacing if that means anything.

Physically I’m a really short adult, I’m only like 5’ tall (152 cm) because I have multiple disabilities, one of which stunted my growth. I have chronic pain basically everywhere but especially in my joints like my hands, hips, back and knees. Just today I’m wearing arthritis gloves, knee braces, compression socks and a scoliosis brace so I kinda look ready to be hospitalized lol. I also faint a lot because of blood pressure issues, and I have asthma and weak bones too. Medically I’m kind of a mess. Anyways, I also have really long wavy (and fluffy) brown hair, glasses and pale skin with lots of moles and freckles. I’m surprisingly muscular but still really slim. My style also switches between masculine and feminine a lot, and I even tend to combine the two. Today I’m wearing a long ankle-length skirt and also a biker’s cut denim jacket on top with a black t-shirt.

I have a bunch of little nervous habits like knocking on wood to prevent jinxes (like Bruno!), biting my lip when I’m nervous, pacing and flapping my hands, making little noises and humming to myself (kinda like Dolores). I’m also learning Greek and Spanish as second languages! I talk with my hands a lot, and I tell crazy stories from my life. I can imagine Mirabel complaining about Isabela and then I’m just like “My siblings used to put me in a trash can and roll me down the stairs” lol. I would also definitely gift Dolores some headphones because I can get pretty loud without really noticing.

I work as a librarian currently, but I’m also learning screenwriting in hopes of actually working at Pixar someday! I write a ton, I have a journal that I’ve kept going for years now, and I’ve picked up a lot of different crafts like sewing and leatherworking.

I’m very polite and extremely friendly, including being really bubbly and excitable. I feel like, maybe aside from the denim jacket, I might be the kind of person even Abuela would like lmao. I shake people’s hands when greeting them and am generally very polite and a little nervous. But it’s easy for me to make people laugh because I have a witty and sarcastic sense of humor, especially combined with my weird life stories. I’m really soft and surprisingly good at giving advice, I’ve often been called “wise beyond my years”. Unfortunately I can be really stubborn and am not quick to forgive, but that’s something I’m trying to work on. I also have a habit of always trying to stay busy and I don’t really know what self care is sometimes, oops.

But yeah, I think that's about it! Sorry if this was too long, I got excited haha. I look forward to seeing who you'll ship me with! Take care of yourself and drink lots of water, bye!

Thank you for requesting!

I match you with...

Pepa!

Even before you two started to date, you would always keep the sun shining and bright when you were around her! Your loudness and energy while talking would match her's, and she would always help massage the areas that were hurting you.

She would talk to you and do fun activities with you while you're nervous to distract you, and would be your No. 1 supporter. She would always stand slightly behind you and would be quick to catch and care for you if you fainted.

She would definitely understand you not being quick to forgive, but would know just how to handle your stubborn moments. She would also help you learn Spanish by having conversations with you in the language to help you become more fluent, and would try to learn Greek with you, the skies becoming more cloudy as she gets frustrated.

She would love your style, and would always adore when you talk with your hand, and would even pick up some of your gestures from being around you and thinking of you so much. Overall, she would absolutely love you!

I hope you enjoyed!

[boyakishantriage]

Swerving, the hybrid began changing gears.

"Of all cars. WHY THE FUCK DID YOU CHOOSE A MOTHER FUCKING MANUAL?"

Swearing at the shotten three aliens, her human friend sighing.

"I did say I should go boss."

"Har Har, very- funny." The car jostled, the vehicle crashing against their pursuers as it moves forward. Head bleeding, the tall elk like alien muttered to himself.

"... What just. How. Who-"

The car veered, J turning past the two as blood reappeared at the passengers.

"Right. We've got company."

Swerving between the streets, she dropped onto the freeway, first exit down into the forest. Handing her the mask, her body returning to sickly white.

"Ait, you'll be clear. I'll take these two to a friend and she can. Y'know, take them wherever."

She nodded, the medic glancing at the awakening alien.

"boo."

"Well, it was nice seeing you too Danny!" A familiar voice stirred the alien, as the delegate stepped into the room.

She turned, friendly demeanor changing, a gun on her waist.

"What do you remember?"

"I- there was. And then."

She took a seat, resting on the back as she looked at the alien.

"take your time, your alien friend managed to hand us a book we could translate to help ya. Doc said you'd forget what happen, I really don't want to come back in for the ninth time."

"... I've. How bad is it?"

"Nothing crazy, it's no cancer, but your brain's short term memory gets fritz and returns to the last saved section. Whatever's most memorable, your brain regrow the hormone chanel or whatever enough you're probably gonna be fine. You're like, the worst case here because your thing is entirely on you."

"... Eh?"

"... Your brain kept snapping back because a channel meant to monitor really short memory broke, but the channel's healed enough of it so you should be fine now."

"oh. Wait, are you saying I have amnesia?"

"Similar, there's a specific bit of your brain that's channel broke, the nerves have healed however."

"oh. What was your question again."

"oh right. That reminds me. You're gonna have a little difficulty remembering things, you'll probably develop amnesia if you don't. Y'know, push to remember."

The alien went quiet, focusing. About, a minute passed before I brought up a second part.

"And also, sometimes you just forget parts, so try to remember. But don't push yourself or you might break it again."

"..."

"You never remember the question because you get distracted by learning about your condition, the question was what do you remember?"

A delegation of humans, nothing big but enough for the aliens to be welcomed as they came to earth.

Then explosions, between explanation and were handed his food, a commotion escalating. Barely a whisper as the translator shut down. What little English was understood naturally, the word "hybrid", hatred. Gossiping that stirred the crowd as whoever was there tried to pacify the situation, clear to no avail as more vehicles were driven in, and before long.

The alien delegates were moved away, given no explanation beyond hybrids being terrorists, as there came more shouts. The translator explaining.

"CAN YOU FUCKING NOT- HOW DARE YOU"

"Mom. Please-"

"Janét, let's just. Go."

"filth! Go back to Hell!"

She cut him off, sighing.

"yep. That matches reports."

Something. Triggered at that.

"... Didn't you say that damn filth?"

"and wasn't that vase not broken?"

She added, the alien looking beside him. More memories, his hand flexed. Before he remembered what happened. His blood felt cold.

"You're a hybrid."

[traumasurvivorshelpingsurvivors]

Hi, this is Chantal again. I'm not sure if you got my first ask, I still have it saved if you need me to resend it, but if you got it already, this is just an update on how things are going (tw for alcohol, chronic health issues, and death).

So my situation has gotten way more difficult lately and it's all connected to family issues. I mentioned in my first ask that I had a relative near death, it was my uncle (husband of the aunt who copes by drinking). He passed away (making it the second death I've had in my family in only 3 months). And once again I had to go through an extremely emotionally draining and disturbing funeral.

Now my aunt moved in with us. She brought alcohol into the house and she's constantly making references to drinking, including making a joke where she said alcohol is the "over-the-counter version" of an anti-anxiety medication. And now my mom is set to have surgery later this month. She's been in a very bad mood lately because she and my aunt get into a lot of disagreements. If I'm getting along with my aunt while my mom is mad at my aunt, my mom takes it as us supposedly teaming up against her. But if I get my aunt upset while my mom is on good terms with her, then my aunt complains to my mom about me, and my mom gets angry at me for not being nicer to her (even if it's just something like me responding in a less cheerful way than usual thanks to being tired, stressed, or in pain).

Basically everything from the first ask is still the same (my schedule is even worse now with my aunt living with us since I feel like it's really disrupted things, I'm getting frequent pain episodes, experiencing physical flare-ups from the intense amounts of emotional/mental distress I'm going through, and still don't have a doctor). I'm still feeling a huge amount of guilt over how I let my mental health negatively impact my physical health. And it just feels like I'm constantly overwhelmed and don't know how to handle anything since no one around me copes in healthy ways either and I feel extremely alone and hopeless. I am sort of back to work but I'm constantly feeling distracted, less productive than usual, underconfident in my abilities, and I'm always panicked about messing up. I feel like this can't last forever but at the same time it really does feel like it's one awful thing after the next and I can just never get a break. And I don't know how I should deal with things because I just feel like a mess beyond hope and shit keeps happening.

Hi Chantal,

I'm so sorry to hear that things have gotten worse since you last wrote in. I'm so sorry for your most recent loss. It's understandable that the funeral was draining for you.

It sounds like the relationships between you, your mom, and your aunt are becoming complicated as well, and they seem to be unable to recognize that you tend to have a more neutral stance whereas they either see you as for or against them, which only creates more conflict between each other.

Please know that there's no need to feel guilty for your mental health impacting your physical health because sometimes you can't necessarily prevent that from happening. I think it may be helpful to focus less on how your mental health is impacting your physical health and more on what's impacting your mental health to create that chain effect, identifying a root cause (or several, because there are many things).

I think in times like this it can be hard to remain hopeful that the future will be calmer for you. If possible, you may want to look into some mindfulness exercises as well as some self care practices to at least temporarily help relieve the stress of everything that's been going on for you.

If anyone has any comments or suggestions, feel free to add on. Otherwise, I hope I could help, and please let us know if you need anything.

-Bun