#trying to be vague about where I work while ranting about this

[spacexcowgirl]

a company dropped off cookies at my work for me and my coworker specifically and another person on our team picked them up YESTERDAY and DIDNT TELL US

[alchemiclee]

as a fellow introvert; we are social creatures. introverts who purposefully see no one for months on end are usually just in a cycle where its been so long since they’ve hung out that it’s too intimidating for them to do anymore. i 100% feel tired after hanging out with my friends but i DO also feel happy and refreshed! tl;dr - you’re super normal lol. try to reach out to a couple people just to chat this week <3

thanks for reaching out I really appreciate it❤️ but I have to rant a bit. I allow you to ignore it!

I wish to not be a social creature because going too long without having a friend to talk to or not having someone to talk with almost daily feels bad and it's so hard to have a friend when I need one D:

i've been reaching out to people for the last few weeks or so but they don't reach back. try playing games with people but they play with their other friends or dont feel like playing. invite people to hang out but they say maybe and never give an answer or don't respond.

I don't want to bother my closest friends in our group chat too much in our group chat but the chat is mostly me sending messages with no response and even couple times saying I need a friend when I was having bad days but they didn't want to chat and I dont want to force anyone to entertain my lonely depressed ass. (especially when all I really needed was to talk about the new star rail stuff to distract me but I don't think they've finished it yet so I don't want to spoil) they live together so they always have to socialize and probably make each other tired without needing to add me to it.

so i've also been trying to reach out to new people, like joining twitch chats again for the first time in years. but that never goes well and doesn't satisfy my social needs. too many people talking at once and being the new person no one cares about and all....getting to know a new is very exhausting. but it's so hard to just be able to skip all that getting to know each other stuff jump straight into talking about a thing we both like (in this case it's star rail and cosplay and maybe art) I don't have enough already-known people to reach out to and i'm too tired to do the small talk dance until it's appropriate to jump into special interest territory. being autistic is so exhausting. I with to be one of those rare autistics I sometimes hear about that have 0 interest in social interaction at all

so as you can see, i'm trying. so hard. to the point I'm exhausting myself. it's been too much work for no payoff and makes things feel worse when the outcome isn't what I need and its constant reaching with no one grabbing my hand back. so I keep making annoying tumblr posts about it. i'm so sorry to anyone that reads my nonsense 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 this is a normal thing with me but it's usually kept to my other blog that's reserved for more serious posts like this but I tried posting here as a way to "reach out" and see if it invites any friendly friends or something but I don't think i'm doing it right...

(but I am going to a con tomorrow with someone I haven't talked to in like 2 years. but we don't have anything in common anymore so theres not much to talk about. he's the only person who responded to me after trying to reach out for like a month but I fear it will only exhaust me being around too many people and not help this gross need to have a deeper connecting socialization D:)

[bigfatbimbo]

holyyyy shitttt I’ve never run into a writing blog I agree with so much! refusal to write dom!male characters? you’re speaking my language here, seriously! the sub bill fic/concept was so godly too actually what the fuck?????

despite that — I actually came here to speak about Stanford lol. I’d just be so curious to hear any thoughts you have on sub! ford really, whether hcs, a drabble, or just you going on a general little rant over how you think he’d be like. sorry if this is too vague!!!

a/n — anon, your so real!! I literally cannot write dom!male characters without getting icked out — also i’m glad you liked the bill fic!

warnings — dom!reader, sub!ford, gender-neutral reader, mentions of various kinks

summary — [SMUT] headcanons of reader and sub!Ford

ᯓ★ I genuinely do not know why people would be think this man doms, he is such a bottom.

ᯓ★ He has very little experience, maybe he got lucky at a party in college or met a hot alien during his time in the portal, but he might as well be a virgin.

ᯓ★ He’d probably be very nervous your first time together, fumbling taking his clothes off, not knowing where to start.

ᯓ★ His confidence has come along way but he’s still a nerd at heart, and he’d get flustered so easily.

ᯓ★ His praise kink would be so unmatched.

ᯓ★ Call him good and smart while talking him through it, he deals with so many high tension situations, he’d love you to be soft with him.

ᯓ★ “Pretty boy” would ruin him. After being bullied for being a freak all his life, even if he is genuinely over it now, it’s still be jarring to be praised for his looks.

ᯓ★ He would literally feel such a relief when you tell him you’d be leading, like “ah, yes. perhaps that’s.. a good idea.”

ᯓ★ Ford is probably immensely touch-starved after everything he’s been through. He’d want you to touch him literally everywhere.

ᯓ★ He would probably be pretty vanilla, anything to crazy would freak him out.

ᯓ★ Not a fan of degradation, where is the pleasure in being openly mocked by a loved one?

ᯓ★ After a little bit, he would probably feel bad for making you do all the work, so he’d try to do things for you to make it up to you.

ᯓ★ However, only to realize he wants constant reassurance while doing that too. Even when he’s fingering you and treating you nice, a ‘good boy’ every now and then would make him fold.

ᯓ★ And it’s probably always deserved too.. He’s a genius and a scientist, it’s not crazy to say he knows a thing or two about anatomy. Things to enhance your pleasure.

ᯓ★ Would love pegging, probably already knows about it, but you’d still have to ask first. And even then he’d be incredibly nervous and not masking it well.

ᯓ★ Probably cannot go for a long time or do that many rounds. Look, he’s old… I don’t know what you people expect when you’re into a 60+ year old man.

ᯓ★ Will always help out during aftercare no matter how tired out he is. Even if you insist he rest, he’ll still get you glass of water at the very least.

[loveraging]

𝐌𝐲 𝐂𝐮𝐩 𝐨𝐟 𝐓𝐞𝐚

𝘚𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘳 𝘙𝘦𝘪𝘥 𝘹 ����𝘦𝘮!𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

Summary: you always drink tea in the evenings. Spencer always watches you, admiring from a distance until he finds the courage to admit what he knows to be true. For now, though, he's content in the serenity you bring, in the shape of teacups and late-night reading. Warnings: tooth-rotting fluff, tea with milk (don't knock it..!), reference to a vaguely depressing book. W/C: 1.2K A/N: first fic, massively exciting! Even more nerve-wracking! Time to stop lurking though, and share a bit of my own work. :)

━━━━━━━━━･❪ 🥀 ❫ ･━━━━━━━━━

Spencer glances over the edge of his book, down the aisle of the jet, seeing you all the way in the back. You’re leaning against the wall beside the kitchenette, your arms crossed in front of your chest as you wait for the hot water, in which you’ve just put your teabag, to turn the right brown colour. He knows this dance, he’s watched it countless times. You always stare at the teacup with a crease on your forehead, watching the water like a hawk until it’s the right colour, after which you pull out the teabag. You let it rest against the edge of the cup, just above the hot water, letting it leak out most of its contents. Then you add a splash of milk, which is also done with meticulous focus. Morgan had once said you seemed like a scientist when you made your tea. Your reply had been simple: “Tea is to the body as music is to the soul, darling.”

At the end of the day, such as right now, it’s always Earl Grey, and you let the teabag steep for a while, allowing the tea to become so strong it’s nearly bitter. The milk balances it out, according to you. Spencer has never felt brave enough to try that particular brew, even though you always offer it. In the morning, however, as he now knows so well, it’s always chamomile. It soothes you, apparently, and helps you start your day. He remembers ranting on and on about the medicinal benefits chamomile has the first time he watched you make it in the kitchenette in the BAU, and you had listened to all of it, only to, by the end of his long rant, simply say: “Why d’you think I drink it?”

You’ve finally finished your brew, leisurely making your way over to where he is and sitting down in the chair beside him, the one by the window. That’s your spot, he knows now. His spot is beside wherever you sit, but he’d never admit to that out loud. You offer your cup to him, to which he shakes his head with a small smile, and you shrug as you bring it to your own lips—it’s what the two of you always do. You always offer, and he always declines. It’s a nice little ritual. The other part of that ritual is that you finish your tea in complete silence, and over the months, he’s learned to keep quiet during that. You’ve never outright told him to shut up, but you don’t really reply to him when he talks. You hum and nod, but it’s not a real conversation. Eventually, he learned that it was because, to you, that cup of Earl Grey at the end of the day was a moment of tranquillity—complete serenity, your whole body in restful repose. A moment to let the day wash away and to gather your thoughts. Now, he enjoys it with you, whenever he can.

When you’ve finished your cup, you put it down on the table, which is Spencer’s sign to shuffle in his seat until he’s in the perfect position for you to rest your head on his shoulder—it took him a while to perfect that one, but he’s got it down pat now. His elbow is on the armrest so that his shoulder is at a slope, and his legs are crossed so he doesn’t unconsciously bounce them up and down and accidentally disturb you.

Normally, when you rest your head on his shoulder, you cross your arms in front of your chest before closing your eyes. This time, however, you do something different. Slowly, your hand moves behind his elbow until your forearm is hooked around it as if you’re about to walk arm-in-arm. It stays like that for a moment as you ask, “What are you reading today, then?”, which is the question you always ask. It’s another part of this ritual: you ask what he’s reading, which is his sign to explain the book, to which you always tell him to read a bit to you, and as he does, you fall asleep. 

“East of Eden, by John Steinbeck,” he says, and you nod despite your head resting against his shoulder. He’s about to explain the plot of the book when you suddenly move your hand and start drawing small circles on his skin, languidly brushing your fingers on the inside of his forearm. He, quite phenomenally, instantly loses all train of thought and can only stare at the way your hand caresses his arm where his sleeves are rolled up.

“What’s it about?” You ask, quietly, which only adds to the intimacy of the situation.

“You’re making it a bit difficult to focus,” he murmurs and your hand pauses. He immediately regrets ever saying anything.

“Do you want me to stop?”

“No. No, definitely not,” he says, before clearing his throat as he tries his best to summarise the book through the haze in his mind, while your hand resumes its dance. “It’s—it’s about this dangerous rivalry between two generations of brothers, similar to Abel and Cain from the bible. It’s mostly about the endless contest between good and evil.”

“Cheery,” you mumble, making him laugh softly. “Read it to me, would you, sweetheart?”

As if he’d ever say no. “The cemetery was deserted and the dark crooning of the wind bowed the heavy cypress trees…”

Your fingers keep drawing circles, slowly but decisively, as he reads from the admittedly depressing chapter. As the minutes drag on and Spencer realises he can’t remember a single thing he’s just read to you, your hand draws lower and lower, until your fingers are tracing the lines in his palm. He keeps glancing over as if he can barely believe what he’s seeing. And then, like the grand finale to a beautifully slow buildup, you push your fingers between his until your hands are fully intertwined.

He knows he stutters over a few words, he knows his breathing audibly hitched, but you don’t comment on any of it. You simply keep your hand where it is and wait for him to react: for him to reject or accept it. He accepts it wholeheartedly, he’s more excited about this than anything that’s ever happened to him, and the only way he knows how to tell you is to squeeze your hand as decisively as he can. 

You squeeze back, and he continues softly reading to you.

Fifteen minutes later, he knows you’re fast asleep. Your grip in his hand has gone a bit slack and your breathing is rhythmic and even. He’s not reading anymore, now just staring at your intertwined hands and marvelling at the fact that this is happening. Finally, finally, he’s getting somewhere with this. All that patience, all that waiting for you, that admiration that he had from the sidelines, it has finally cultivated in this. He only hopes that it will continue to grow. 

And if Emily tries to slyly take a picture and Morgan nudges JJ with a sly look, Spencer pretends not to notice any of it. He’s too busy staring at you anyway. 

[nartothelar]

I just had a thought while thinking about your possession au.

So I know you posted some joke art about Ingo confronting a Zoroark acting as his (possessed) brother, but what if the Zoroark WAS trying this time.

So imagine ; Ingo with maybe Lady Sneasler and Irida walking through the Alabaster Icelands, and they get confronted with a Zoroark. It takes Emmet's form and starts terrorizing Ingo, taunting him with "You'd never hurt me!" and everything F!Emmet said before.

And Irida watches as Ingo, her cool and collected if a tad lost warden just... shrink back in fear.

Now just about any sane person would be afraid of a Zoroark, but she can tell that this is MUCH more than just that. This is *personal*. He normally never hesitates fighting Zoroarks when they take the forms of others, but this time he is terrified of hurting the man behind the illusion, and of the man himself.

Judging from everything the illusion of Emmet is shouting (even illusions and how they behave have *some* truth to them), and the way Ingo is terrified, she deduces that maybe the place or family Ingo originally came from wasn't ideal, to say the least. Ingo frantically telling Irida that he loves his supposed abuser only reaffirms her concerns.

Eventually, this becomes somewhat of an open secret among both clans that Ingo's 'man in white' is, to say the least, not good. And how is Ingo supposed to dispute that? He loves this person, and he vaguely feels protective of him, but he also feels afraid whenever he think of him.

Cue Emmet somehow getting into Hisui.

For some extra angst, he took care of his F!Emmet situation, somehow. (Maybe when they both went to Dialga to go to Hisui, he went 'wait a moment, you're not supposed to be there' and separated them)

Naturally, when Irida finds out that the man in white is actually here, she panics. Everyone tries to a. Keep Emmet from finding out Ingo is even here (which doesn't work, he came here KNOWING Ingo is here so he can tell everyones lying to him), b. Know Emmet's location at all times, so that c. They can steer Ingo in the opposite direction of where Emmet is, for his own safety until they can either get Emmet to go back to where he came from, or do some (incredibly biased) investigation.

Cause Sinnoh help them if Emmet IS actually as bad as they suspect, cause if he is even half as good as Ingo, then the amount of people who could potentially stop him can he counted on one hand.

Sure, he SEEMS nice if a tad intense, worrying about his brother, but who's to say he's not just a good actor?

I dunno, maybe the climax is Emmet finding Ingo but the Ingo protection squad (consisting of Irida, Sneasler, etc.) is keeping him back and throwing the not completely baseless accusations at Emmet, him saying "hey I was possessed by a future alternate version of myself, but hes gone now I swear" ("well that's awfully convenient"), and Ingo has NO IDEA what do to (cause he said that once, didn't he? He said that the thing was gone, but then it wasn't, so he has no idea if he can fully trust him or not).

OR, F!Emmet arrives still in Emmet's body and just starts tearing through everything to find Ingo. He's an unstoppable force that will not stop until he finds his brother. And he is nearly everything that Zoroark showed Irida. They are desperately trying to keep Ingo away from him, to no avail.

What're your thoughts on this? Do with all this what you want, and thanks for reading my rant.

OK SO THIS WOULDN'T BE CANON PER SAY (more like an offshoot au?) BUT SOME INTROSPECTION ->

so i might have explored this very idea in a couple of discord dms! but for the most part, yes, ingo would be very much scared of the man in white/the zoroark since his last days with emmet were very much tainted with future emmet's influence, but i wouldn't say f!emmet went so far as to abuse him - emotionally torment for sure tho. still, ingo would very much react, even with amnesia, with a sense of fear and apprehension to seeing him. mixed and very confusing feelings

when emmet does finally get to ingo in hisui in the actual au, him and his future self has actually teamed up (as the last installation suggests). that isn't to say emmet is angry at his future self (bc he is FURIOUS even now at how his future self treated ingo and made the last few weeks he had with his sibling so miserable for everyone) but they have a sort of ceasefire since they want the same thing rn

but similar to your ask, ingo doesn't react positively. he still doesn't remember much but he knows that: 1) he knows this figure and that he is someone important to him 2) does not want any harm to come to him 3) he, for the life of him, is scared of him. the clan is rightfully ultra suspicious of them and maybe puts him on watch (and maybe subjecting him to various interrogative talks to get him to explain everything) that the emmets accept without much fight -> f!emmet feeling extremely guilty for what he has done and believes he deserves the treatment/deserves to not be forgiven + emmet knows that the clan is protecting his brother and can't fault them for handling the way they do

f!emmet and emmet both have a lot of work to do if they want things to go back to the way they were, if they even can

BUT YEAH VERRRRRRRY LONG RAMBLE BUT VERRRY INTERESTING NONETHELESS SKSKK

[xesnox]

(Post fall) Ancient builder x Illager toxic old man yaoi when

WIP, was planning on doing a ref for every human race but a mutual of mine practically begged me to post these two on their own so you’re probably gonna see this image again. Colors are not yet where I want them to be so I’ll definitely go over it a few more times.

I’d like to take this moment to point out that the way you summon allays in legends, where you play as an ancient builder, is pretty similar to the way evokers summon vexes.

Design / AU rant below cut, as always.

This one’s a little worse written than usual, I’m just rambling.

I practically have an infinite amount of Ancient builder designs because I draw them differently with every piece depending on how I’m feeling, but for this design I got more genuinely speculative and turned on my pattern recognition.

Steve and Alex are canonically 6’2, both of them, and all undead mobs seem to be the same height, if not taller than they are, so I made them average around 6’5. To add to that, all undead builder mobs either don’t have eyes or have solid coloured glowing ones, so I went with the latter.

Minecraft isn’t a stranger to making lifeforms appearances change drastically depending on circumstance, this render is of an Ancient builder post wither attack, around ancient city time, which meant I could adopt the idea the devs mentioned about villagers/illagers, of human skin turning desaturated if they stay out of the sun for long enough, which, if the single generation of Illagers already show signs of I bet the god knows how many decade long underground escapades of the builders probably hit ‘em hard with that trait.

I also for the longest time for some reason forgot cosmetics were very likely a thing, so they’ve got some protection spells and luck enchantments tattooed, both of them do. Doesn’t work very well, as one can probably guess. But they’re superstitious so it felt in character enough.

For the post wither attack Ancient builders I also tend to think of them as more frail, not only because they had no access to their former overworld food supplies and had to rely on the little stuff that did grow in complete lack of sunlight underground, which definitely wasn’t a lot, but also because beyond the military force that did seem to remain from the nether war (ancient city structure name: Barracks, disk 5 marching.) they definitely were no longer strong enough to properly defend themselves against the wither or the warden/mourner on their own accord.

And because they were cowards and skedaddled when the overworld was in danger AND got beat up by the piglin despite being the main kingdom in power which I just find really funny. So think tall and boney but hiding it under a lot of clothing layers to still appear strong. Definitely can’t put on armor anymore though, that back would snap like a twig.

When it comes to the robes I used some of my older armor template designs for reference, made them black and blue to fit the most well known ancient builder sprite as well as vaguely match the one of the evoker. Because, oh well, you caught me, I do believe the cargo cult theory. Got my own interpretation but I’ll leave it at that till the next bestiary entry.

I generally want the villagers to look more varied, and human, while the builders, both neo and ancient, look more unsettling, as if they’re clearly a person, but something just looks, or moves wrong. They’re too symmetrical. Too far removed from what once was flawed but sincerely their own.

A lot of villager beauty standards are inspired by medieval-renaissance era Europe, like for an example having a larger visible forehead and appearing more boxy in shape being seen as more visually appealing, I think despite the illagers trying to subvert that they do still live in a society, so having grown accustomed to it as children they probably still at-least somehow adhere to the beauty standards they know, whether consciously or not.

They perform similar experiments on themselves as the builders, they’re just ever so slightly worse at it, as they haven’t been doing it for as long, so it leaves marks like scarring or visible stitching, though I believe they wear these with pride.

There’s gonna be a dedicated post about them at some point, as I said so I don’t know how much of my design I want to pick apart for now, but I’ll just leave it at that for now.

Here’s some alternative versions.

[inc0mple]

🗝️ ”Keys Are People, Too” 100 Chapter Q&A ⭐️ (ongoing!)

(Last edit: 12/20 10:40 CST)

Hi! :) If y’all don’t know me my name is Inco (it’s not but shh) and I write a fanfiction for Cinderella Boy called Keys Are People, Too. It’s not finished, it’s ongoing and rapidly approaching 100 chapters XD (yes we are like four chapters away but shh rounding) (I PROMISE WE’RE ALMOST TO THE LAST ACT). So because of an ask from @isitamia and, we’ll say the 100 chapter milestone… tada Q&A??

I don’t know how many people are going to engage with this but that’s totally okay :) I love ranting about stuff and I’ve put a lot of thought into this story, so it would be cool to have an outlet to answer some questions where they don’t get forgotten in AO3 comments. And if you guys also have general questions about writing advice/things like that, I am not an expert but I do also like talking about stories.

So please ask! I’m not planning to close this at any specific time—I was thinking y’all could comment questions under this post or via reblogs (I might miss them in reblogs though) and I will edit this post to answer them, and also reply to you so you know your question is answered. This might get like 10 notes and that’s fine haha (I have zero idea how many people regularly read my story beyond the ones who leave comments), but if there are a lot of questions I’ll try to categorize them. Really just a place to drop info for fun :)

Q&A below ⬇️

I tried to make it organized. It's... kind of organized. Kind of.

Plot/Characters

"What key archetype isn't one of the siblings? Do we get to know their archetypes soon?" asked by @spookieee28 12/20

I'm not gonna say the archetypes at this point in time because it risks spoilers. You will find out by the end of the story and hopefully by that points all of the archetypes should be relatively clear. Some have already been mentioned like the chapter "Heralds and Thieves" for Jade and Cooper, I think (?) Cora has been mentioned as the Innocent archetype, etcetera.

"Which character do you struggle writing the most and which feels easier for you, if you have preferences?" asked by @isitamia 12/20

"Do you ever struggle with keeping Cinderella Boy's canon characters in character?" asked by @isitamia 12/20

I'll answer both of these together. Chase is pretty easy for me because I just channel chaotic gremlin energy and it seems to work. Buddy is OKAY although I am struggling right now making him vulnerable while still retaining him Buddy-ish-ness if that makes sense? Deacon is just Deacon... I am sorry, I feel like I don't really do anything to characterize him, he's just there as a sounding board XD I will say- I daydream situations for CB ALL THE TIME which gives me a lot of comfortability with the canon characters and considering what they would do and say and how they would react. I do have a little bit of difficulty characterizing the human keys so I just kinda went like "oh WELL that's because, UUHHHH, the key siblings don't match the keys exactly! That's it that's the answer!" because I felt like Silver wasn't quite Silver-ish and stuff. As for struggling writing the most I have two main answers.

BRONTE. For those who maybe haven't read this but are scrolling through it anyway, or aren't there yet, Bronte is the "human" version of Bronze and I kinda accidentally eliminated him from the story until like... the 80th chapte ror something like that. I had a lot of trouble actually writing his dialogue and scenes with Chase. It just did not have Bronze's snarky energy. So that was tough and I feel bad because I really feel like I did not do him justice :c

DUKE RAVENELL!!!!!! Ravenell hates me. He gives me so much trouble primarily because I just plunked him in at the beginning and didn't give him a real personality beyond a few vague notions. I've really had to sculpt his character as I went and it's especially difficult because Ravenell is intended to do a lot of plot device-ing. He perpetuates a lot of themes in the story and he is a HUGE character foil to Chase, because he often reflects the opposite of Chase's (and Idonea's) values and intentions. I want him to be morally grey and I am constantly fighting a BATTLE with this man to make sure he isn't too likeable or too hateable. I posted on Tumblr like a week ago really just asking for a diagnostic and the response made my day because people are all OVER the place about this man, some people love him, some will never forgive him, some are like "he's alright but there's something off about him and I can't help but distrust him" and others are like "I know he keeps making mistakes but I can't help but trust him" and I LOVE IT. Fortunately I think he's finally in a place perception-wise where I want him. I want the confusion. So badly. Only now I have to continue to fight this stupid tug-o'-war to keep him properly dividing until the end of the story XD

Behind the scenes

"How did you come up with the plot for KAPT? Was it just a little thought that popped up in your head one day, or did you have like inspiration or something?" asked by @xcitrix 12/20

"Did you have an idea for how you wanted the story to end when you first started writing or did you come up with more ideas while working on it?" asked by @lapileaf 12/20

I'mma answer both of these (and any others if they are asked) in kinda the same go if that's alright. In August I was wanting to write some fanfiction for CB, and one idea rotating in my head was, what if Chase went into a nonfiction book? Like he thought it the most effective way to study for a history project, or he saw a mention of Ex Libris, or something. So, completely directionless, I drabbled out the first chapter of KAPT where they find the book in the museum and... adopt it. And then it sat there in my Google Docs for like two weeks while I worked on a different fanfiction, Violets and Chains. I tried to return to it a little bit and got through the first anthology chapter where they're in the Chartesia battle, but that too did not have a plot behind it, I was like "myeh... trebuchets... uh... and now there's a guy... oh maybe they're PRISONERS..." And then brain did not work and I gave up. Eventually got myself together, BS-ed the rest of the scene, and then sat down and essentially ranted to myself about potential ideas until I figured out the plot.

More ideas have kept cropping up as I've worked on it. There are certain puzzle pieces that are foreshadowed in even teh first ten chapters that I didn't even mean to foreshadow because I hadn't thought of the yet - the plot was generally mapped out but has defintely been refined and added to as time goes on. Eventually you get into the flow of a story and everything just starts clicking into place, like you yourself are theorizing about an external work. Keep in mind that because I am publishing it as I write each chapter, KAPT is a first draft, and I have to hatch out plot points and main parts of the story as I write and make my best effort to recover any loose threads or things like that. It's a fun exercise!

"Do you plan to stick to the story you have already till the end or is there a possiblity you'll have to change some things if we get to know more about canon Ex Libris/Buddy lore while it's still ongoing?" asked by @iwikpines 12/20

There are some new bits of information that are kinda iffy for KAPT, but ultimately because KAPT takes place inside a book most of the Buddy/Ex Libris lore is not applicable. Regarding Buddy's situation I am going to go ahead like I was planning to originally, and I'll add a disclaimer when time permits. I don't think either way throws a wrench in the plans too much but I would rather be confident in the themes I've already set up as opposed to trying to hastily recover new lore in the last third of the story, if that makes sense.

"How did you come up with your ocs? I know some, like Jaime, come from another original story of yours ... but what about characters like Ravenell, Galeus, and Rose? What inspired you? How did you decide their personaltiy, their struggles? Did you take inspiration from yourself for anyone, similar to how Punko took inspiration from herself for Chase? Do you follow any specific process to come up with ocs, like follow a list, scheme, or coming up with hypothetical scneraios?" asked by @isitamia 12/20

A lot of the characters are cameos from a passion project I've been working on for years called IFI (no I will not tell you what it stands for) - Jaime and emma are from there, as well as several others including Alexei, Nishan, Mattheo, Kelitia, Indie (the Marchioness), King Aarius, and King Olivyn. So those are just plunked in and then Jaime decided to become part of the plot. As for the other original characters made specifically for KAPT, they just kinda got plopped in for one reason or another (I wanted Rose to connect to the Chartesia lore, Ravenell to have a foil for Chase, and Galeus because, well, there had to be a king) and then I slowly worked to build connections, themes, and character. Often times I don't specifically sit down and think "this character will be this way", it just emerges naturally from their dialogue, like I'm chiseling something out that was already in the stone like an archeologist, as opposed to carving my own new sculpture. I've always written that way and it makes it difficult when I am required to add structure to my writing or explain why I do things the way I do. I will say it is all VERY inspired from my own life and beliefs; Rose exists as a confidante in the story, and many of her more preachy dialogue pieces are things I'm getting out of my system. So yeah, not really a lot of structure to it, they just appear... and I figure them out as I go... most of my characters are in some way facets of myself or the way I percieve life. As I get more experienced with writing I'm sure I'll be more intentional with them, but for now, they are Athena and I am Zeus.

"How do you post daily" (kind of) asked by @isitamia 12/20

To give an actual answer for this because I know it's a lot to post a 2-4k chapter PER DAY - I am a student and have a LOT of downtime in class where I can't really do anything but write. That is how. Also, I have taught myself to be a prolific writer because that is the thing in my life I can always rely on when other things are unstable.

"How did you extend the story so far? I love the plot and it's kinda insane how you were able to develop it so much, at this point it's a full novel and I kinda live for it LOL. Also how long would you consider one act?" asked by @shyve3 12/20

Two parts to this question, I will answer them both;

I didn't mean to. I am really bad about being concise; I can't. When I write and get passionate about a story there's so much I want to stay and I can rarely fit it into what most people consider a pallatable length. I just get going and... idk... unstoppable force or something lol. And yes KAPT is at least the length of a typical trilogy XD ITS BEEN FIVE MONTHS

Regarding the act question, I ORIGINALLY said KAPT would be three acts, with the first ending when Chase goes down into Rose's "tomb" for the first time, the second ending with the Bronte part, and the third being the final one. It is actually more like four now, with the "second" act split into two at the masquerade ball. We are so close to being onto the actual final act, which should be a 4th of the total fic, so we have maybe 30 chapters left (?) (we'll see lol)

I don't have a specific length, it's just the way the story tends to ebb and flow if that makes sense?

General stuff

"Do you have any advice as a writer?" asked by @iwikpines 12/20

I AM SO BAD ABOUT THIS because I really do just go type type type and words appear. I know there's more to it than that but I've spent a lot of time writing and not a lot of time learning how to write so I have the experience without the actual education behind it. Write what you care about :) I mean NO DUH but like - your best stories will come from the heart. You will find prolificness (is that a word?) in PASSION. If I didn't care about Cinderella Boy or the themes I'm trying to communicate in KAPT would I spent my days writing a chapter a day ABSOLUTELY FRIGGIN NOT I'd be writing a different story. So yeah - write what you love and your audience will find you. What the world needs is a buncha people doing what they love really well because it's what they care about. Also, I didn't include your full comment here, but I am excited to read your fanfiction! <3 Please post it on Tumblr when you also post it elsewhere!

[butchersboobs]

Playmates - Part Two

Now that the 'boobgate' incident has died down, it's time for your revenge...

Part One

NSFW under the cut - MDNI

---------

Billy was already on edge from the night before. You'd deliberately stayed out late and then been purposely vague when he'd demanded to know 'What the fuck you bin up to, out till this hour?' That had put him in a mood, and he'd been sniping at you all day, muttering on about 'bloody secrets' and 'pissin' about'.

Now, with your revenge plan fully in motion, you set your phone up on the kitchen counter, camouflaging it amongst the clutter, and hit record. You called out, keeping your tone serious.

'Billy?... Billy! We need to have a little chat.'

From the living room, you hear him chuntering 'Oh, 'ere we fuckin' go…'

He sauntered into the kitchen, his usual swagger dampened by suspicion. He leaned against the doorframe, glaring at you. 'What's this about, then? Spit it out.'

'Sit down.' You said firmly, gesturing to the chair.

Billy raised an eyebrow, but complied, dragging the chair out and flopping down, leaning back like he owned the place. He crossed his arms over his chest.  'Right, I'm listnin'. This abou' your be'aviour last night? Betta be good.'

You took a deep breath, trying to keep a straight face as you began. 'Billy, this isn't easy for me, so just hear me out,OK?'

His expression hardened. 'Christ. Whassa bloody matter now?'

'Well,' you said, pausing for effect, 'I've met this bloke I kind of like, and I… well, I was wondering how you'd feel about having an open relationship?'

Billy blinked, his brow furrowing as though he couldn't possibly have heard you properly. 'You fuckin' what?'

'You know,' you continued, keeping your voice as nonchalant as possible, 'an open relationship. So I could fuck this guy, but still be with you. At least some of the time, anyway. You know, when there's nobody else I'd rather be with.'

You think he's gonna clock your game right away when he just stares at you for a bit - but nope. He bites. Fucking hell, does he bite.

''Ave you lost your fuckin' mind?!' he bellows, slamming his hands on the table and standing up so fast the chair scraped across the floor and tipped backwards. 'You think I'm just gonna sit 'ere, while you go off gallivantin' wiv some other prick?'.

'Billy! It's not like th-'

'Don'chu fuckin' 'Billy' me, love. 'Oo is this cunt, then, ay? Some ponce in a suit from work? Some muscle'ead prick from down the gym? You fink 'es gonna be able t'fuck ya even 'alf as good as I do? Fuckin' unbelievable!'

He started pacing around, a hand stroking through his beard as he muttered to himself.  'An open fuckin' relationship, she says. Christ. May as well stick a sign on me bleedin' back that sez fuckin' 'doormat - walk all over me…''

You pressed your lips together, trying hard not to laugh - but it was getting harder by the minute. But fucking hell - did he look hot when he was angry, you thought to yourself.

'Wha's 'e got that I don't then, ay? Better hair? Bigger dick, is tha' it? Oh wait - don't tell me - it's 'is fuckin' 'sparklin' personality', ain'it?!' He made exaggerated air quotes.

Well, that did it. You burst out laughing, doubled over as tears filled your eyes.

Billy froze mid-rant, his eyes narrowing. 'The fuck you laughin' at?'

You couldn't even speak - you just pointed to the counter where your phone was perched with Its red recording light blinking away.

His eyes followed your gesture, and then it clicked. His jaw dropped. 'You're takin' the fuckin' piss,' he drawled, walking over to the phone and picking it up. He stared at the screen for a moment, then turned back to you, his expression caught somewhere between fury and reluctant amusement.

'You bin recordin' this?'

Still laughing, you nodded. 'One of me wank bank, innit love!' you said, in your best Cockney accent.

'You li'l shit!!' he growled, though a grin was already tugging at his lips.  He looked into the camera, 'Oi, future me - she's a fuckin' menace. Don' let'er get away wiv this.'

Straightening up, he turned to you, shaking his head. 'You fink yer so bloody clever, don'cha?'

'Pretty clever, yeah.' you said, grinning as you wiped the tears from your eyes.

Billy stared at you for a long moment, then burst into laughter, tossing your phone down on the counter. 'Alrigh', fair play love. You got me good 'n proper. But you betta sleep wiv one eye open for the rest'o ya life.'

'Oh, I'm terrified,' you teased, but the smugness in your tone only made him laugh harder.

As much as he hated to admit it, he was proud of you for giving as good as you got - and more than a little relieved it was all a joke. 

For now…

[strngegirl]

a/n: an intermission for the other thing im working on (my first request giggles) because it'll take a while with how hectic my life is rn <\3 // just trying to get my head back in the writing game so this isn't too stimulating (⁠｡⁠•́⁠︿⁠•̀⁠｡⁠)

cw: gn!reader x choso, angst i think, mildly suggestive (mentions of sex), reader cheats on husband with choso, choso doesn't care, choso really loves reader, reader doesn't love him like that, choso is pathetic and a little sad, choso pov.

wc: somewhere around and a little over 1k i think?

❝Hold me, console me, and then I'll leave without a trace.❞ ——— THE MARÍAS, 'NO ONE NOTICED'.

Winter, the coldest season all year round. A season where snow falls, children get giddy about the fact that Santa will break into their house and gift them their dream presents for being a 'good kid' this year, people get ready for the epilogue of yet another year. Basically, it's a season that's celebrating the end of the year, and the start of a new one.

But Choso finds that he feels rather empty, despite all the activities he's doing with his brothers.

He doesn't wanna blame you, but... He's acutely aware the reason why he's feeling so down is because of you.

After Yuki told Choso to go live as a human, you were the first human connection he made. He went to a bar to try out alcohol, and then you slid into the seat next to his, introducing yourself. Conversation with you flew smoothly like silk, and even with his lack of understanding of everything in general, you were so patient with him. You didn't ridicule him, you didn't mock him, you taught him. What Choso didn't know, you explained. He liked that you treated him as an equal that just has a lot of questions, and you didn't look at him weirdly nor belittle him like some other people he's interacted with prior.

That's also one of the reasons why he followed you home, so enamored with you he hardly notices the framed pictures of you and a man together hanging in the corridors of your home, or the shiny ring on your finger even as you used that same hand to undress him. All he can focus on is your gentle voice telling him what to do, and your soothing touches that gives him the most pleasure he has ever felt. He let you take his first, let you see him so vulnerably in all his naked glory because he thinks he might be in love. It's foolish, he knows; he doesn't even understand what love is, but with his understanding of it, he knows he feels something for you. Choso doesn't care about the fact you guys just met, he cared about the pleasant scorching sensation you make him feel.

He kept in contact with you, never got mad even when you ghosted him occasionally, although it does make him feel vaguely sick, he doesn't mind. Because it's you. And he gets to share a bed with you when you reply to him sometimes; be it for sex, an ear to listen to or just some company, he'd be there. Anything for you.

And it stays that way even when he finds out that you have a husband. It should make him back off, really, but the thought that even when you're bound to another, you still wanted him made him feel so special. After knowing, he listens to you ranting to him about how your husband goes away for long periods of time and hardly ever pays you the attention you need, and from what you've told him some other times, he doesn't think your husband deserves you. If anything, he thinks he can find a better ring for you, replace the one currently locked around your ring finger like a leech.

But you always avoided any topic involving taking your relationship any further.

Choso tried to take you on a date, of course. Multiple times, actually. His pleas for you to accept always goes on deaf ears, or you just shut it down with a detached "I'll have to take a rain check". He hates it. He wants to go out with you, hold hands with you and do all the things he sees couples do. But you refused to leave your husband, and you don't want to be caught cheating which is terribly ironic because you shamelessly invite him over almost three times each week. It's okay though, he'll listen to you if it means he can stay. Even if it hurts him inside.

It's been approximately four months since he first met you and began this repeated song and dance, and right now he's back in your bed all over again. Both of you lie there underneath the covers on your marital bed, basking in the post coital bliss he's been addicted to ever since the start. The hum of the heater inside your room being the only noise filling the silence that has fallen between you two.

Choso has his head on your chest, his ears pressed against your warm, sticky skin as he listens to the thud of your calming heartbeat. It's music to his ears, one he can listen to for eternity if you'd allow him to.

And as always, he's the one breaking the silence. Because you wouldn't.

"[Name]?" He asks quietly, wide eyes looking up to your face he finds himself loving.

You hum in acknowledgment, fingers meandering through his hair.

"Can we attend the Christmas festival together?" Choso asks you on a date. Again. Despite knowing the answer—

"No, I'm sorry. You know I can't."

—he'd still ask. He still holds onto that sliver of hope, that one in a million chance where you'd say yes to him.

He deflates at the response he had expected, his face slowly turning down to hide into your chest again. And again, it's fine. He doesn't mind.

"I love you." He whispers those three words for the first time ever. He wasn't sure if it'd make you mad or... Or happy. He wishes it would make you happy. Because he knows if you said that to him, he'd be very happy.

Choso feels you tense the moment he utters those words, and as he waits with bated breath for you to reciprocate his words—nothing.

It's okay. As long as you continue to keep him around, he'll be content with you turning him down every time he tries to show you how in love he is with you.

Because you make him feel human.

[twirlingsmilingwriting]

Paper Talks || Young! Coriolanus Snow X Plinth! Reader pt. 1

TLDR: You knew that people would try to gain your attention and trust because of your families status but Coriolanus always seemed to go above and beyond the usual hallway waves. Are his feelings true and genuine or is he just as shallow as the rest?

Warnings: Capital people talk, reader is a little bratty, She/Her pronouns reader

A/N: This is part ONE of THREE planned stories. So basically I got requests for this same parring of Snow X Plinth! reader and one wanted angst the other wanted fluff so this is the set up story to those two. The story will break off and diverge from this point and you'll get to choose the ending you want. Will they fall in love or will it burn to pieces? YOU CHOOSE!

Based on THIS ask

Word Count: 2.1 k

Taglist: @simpovereveryone

The academy was rather boring most days. Constant busy work 24/7 about things I already knew just didn't ever seem to rub me the right way. What was the point in this education if it felt like you were never actually LEARNING anything? I sighed tapping my pencil ever so slightly against my desk while I listened to Highbottom ramble about whatever painfully vague topic he wanted to yap about today. That man drank so much I swear, not only could you smell the liquor off of him but you could see it, like a weird mystifying haze around him and in his eyes. He must've been mixing something in his cup because liquor doesn't do that much damage. I, honestly, needed whatever he was having to get through this lesson.

Finally, like a saving grace, the bell rang and we were excused from the lecture hall. A few people waved and smiled while I walked through the halls and I did the same back. While I was from the districts, the capital people still seemed to treat me fairly, to my face that is, because of one thing and one thing only, my last name.

Plinth.

We were new money and we sure had a ton of it. An ever-looming fear of mine is that people don't actually like me but just want to get closer to me so they can get a piece of my family's fortune. Easily, I can see why people would want to get closer to me. It didn't help when my last year in the academy came and my father announced there would be a "Plinth Prize", a scholarship of sorts that would help other students pay for university. My father is a very charitable man for offering up a chunk of our wealth to others but it made me a lot more paranoid at school. What if people were just trying to get closer to me so I'd put a good word into my dad? The thought caused a deep sinking feeling of anxiety to sit in the pit of my stomach. Shaking my head, I dusted away the emotions, grabbed my food and tried to find a spot to sit in the cafeteria.

Looking over the area, I saw the broad stocky build and curly brown hair of a boy sitting alone at a 4 person table. Oh, Sej... Sej is my twin brother, obviously not identical twin but he was my twin. I placed my food onto the table with a 'plop' and eagerly sat down to eat.

"Sejanus"

"Y/N"

We both nodded and continued to eat. It was a weird sibling thing we did. Hello's get boring when you have to say them all the time so we just say each other's names then move on. I started absolutely demolishing my sandwich. Words can not describe how delicious a sandwich is after having to listen to Highbottom's intoxicated rants for hours on end. That's when I noticed something, Sej wasn't eating. His eyes were distracted, focused on something behind me. I cocked my brow up in confusion before slowly turning my head to see what he was looking at.

I don't know when he got there but the tall, lanky frame of a man clad in our school uniform was walking to where we were sat and promptly stood at the edge of our table. Curls so blond they were almost white framed his face with a smirk painted across it. His eyes switched between the two of us slowly as if they were slithering inside of his head. Coriolanus Snow. I don't think I've ever actually talked to him before but we did share a class. Sej smiled and said hi to him and he nodded back before asking,

"Is that seat taken?" his head motioned to the seats beside us and I was about to say 'yes' but I couldn't beat the enthusiastic nods and "Oh no it's absolutely free please come sit down," from my brother.

I watched dumbfounded while he reached over and slightly pulled out the chair next to him for Coriolanus. The blond man ignored this, the fabric of his sleeve touching my hair every so slightly while he slid behind to take the seat next to me. That pissed me off, just a little. I hate when people touch my hair. Spend so long to make it look presentable and then people go in and mess with it UGH. My brothers smile faded slightly before it perked back up again as he excitedly started to strike up a conversation with Coriolanus who couldn't seem to keep his eyes off of me. I felt his gaze burning my skin like thousands of little coals. Who knows what kind of comments he might have been making in his head. I looked back down at my sandwich and started to eat it again, but a lot slower.

Sejanus and Coriolanus went back and forth with some banter, clearly, Sej was a lot more interested than Coriolanus was. I felt kind of sad for my brother at times. I don't think he realized how easily people could use us. He trusted too freely and it seemed like he really liked Coriolanus. While other students would try to be kind to us to our faces, that didn't stop them from laughing at us behind our backs. I've only overheard their snickers and chuckles about how we were 'dirty district' twice but that was twice too many. Sej couldn't see through the plastic personas. He leaned over the table, directing his full energy and attention to holding this conversation with Coriolanus who wasn't even holding eye contact with him. He was cut off mid-ramble when Coriolanus spoke.

"Sejanus... you never told me you had a sister"

Oh god, I've been noticed. ABORT MISSION. ABORT MISSION.

"Actually, she's my twin sister. I assumed you would've already known she-"

"I think I have a class with her... Y/N right?"

Why were they talking about me like I wasn't right there? Sejanus was about to open his mouth again when Snow tapped my shoulder, forcing my attention to him. I got to get a better look at his face up close now and I couldn't deny the absolute gravitational pull those blue eyes had. Silently, I swam into the oceans of those blue eyes. I knew I had to get out before I drowned. I swallowed hard and nodded.

"Y/N. Y/N Plinth. And you are... Coriolanus?"

"Please, call me Corio." His smirk turned to a cheesy smile and he tipped his head slightly, extending his hand out for me to shake. I looked down at his hand and then back up at him while I nervously took it and shook it. His hands were as cold as icicles. The feeling almost made me shiver. He gave my hand a squeeze when I tried to pull away like he was trying to keep me there. I did not like that one bit. When he finally released my hand he didn't take his eyes off of me once.

"Sure, Corio..." I mumbled out before trying to return to my almost-finished sandwich. Sej took that as his opportunity to continue blabbering on to Coriolanus.

~

The passing days started to notice a frequently rising increase in Coriolanus Snow bombarding my days. He started to become one of those faces that would wave at me in the hallways but he always wanted to stop and talk and compliment my appearance. Just the other day he moved seats in our shared class to sit next to me, conveniently on the day we had to start a group project with our "table partner". I didn't like how he seemed to be infecting every inch of my life. Sejanus even started to invite him to the mansion so they could hang out and I'd have to see those icy blue eyes cross my vision whenever I went downstairs for a snack and of course, he had to talk to me.

A part of me wants to believe how that Corio was genuine and was trying to be our friend but I couldn't help the impending sense of doom I felt whenever I thought about opening up to him. Today was unlike the others. To start, when Sej and I walked to school together, Coriolanus crossed our path and walked with us. His body hung close to mine as he and Sejanus talked over my head. Corio kept trying to drag me into their conversation but I was trying to minimize the amount of Snow that was being left on my person. When I made it to my first class that's when I noticed a white rose placed on the side of my bag. It must've been from Corio. He must've slipped it in my bad while we were walking this morning. I'm just a girl! I couldn't help the way my face lit up bright red with a blush from this action.

Just as my face felt hot so did my temper. I couldn't let myself get distracted here. I knew what he really wanted, right? I twirled the stem of the rose between my fingers, carefully trying to avoid the thorns, and watched how pretty it looked spinning. Humming softly, I closed my eyes and watched as the rest of the day went by fast.

~

Corio and I sat sitting next to each other in the library trying to study for class. He started insisting on these study dates after we had that first group assignment together. I don't understand why he felt the need to sit there and explain all the questions to me. I knew what he was talking about. The fabric of our pants touched each other lightly as it was the one barrier that stopped our knees from touching. Coriolanus continued to ramble on about the question we were on and was explaining the steps to solve it for the 100th time and I was starting to get seriously bored. With a heavy sigh, I pulled my paper closer to me and started to solve the problems at a lot faster of a speed than we were going at. I had done about 4 questions by the time he was done explaining that one to me and that's when he realized, he had pretty much been talking to the air.

"Y/N? Y/N? Are you listening?"

He spoke, leaning ever so closer to me. He started snapping his fingers in from of my face and I felt this anger start to boil in me.

"Darling, I'm trying to show you how to solve this."

Finally, when he placed his hand on my thigh and I heard the word 'Darling' escape his lips did I snap. My head shot up and I looked over at him, shooting daggers in his direction. I hissed under my breath,

"Corio, do you think I'm stupid? I know what you want "Darling, " I let the darling roll off my tongue sarcastically and mockingly. "and it's not me. You're not sly Snow, I know you're flirting with me and I suggest you scurry along here before I put in a bad word to my father about how this boy in my class can't seem to leave me alone in peace to do my school work. Are we clear?"

Coriolanus took a step back, his mouth agape from the shock of what was just said to him. He took a sharp inhale before a smirk spread on his face, similar to the one he had the first day he sat next to Sejanus and I. There was a plan behind that smile I just knew it.

"That is where you're wrong I'm afraid. I love your feist though Ms. Plinth, simply another challenge, and don't forget, Snow always lands on top."

His body glided so elegantly through the air as he stood up from his seat next to me, placed his hands on my shoulders, and leaned down to look over my shoulder, leaning down so close I could feel his breath against my neck. If my heart was beating any faster it might have turned into an engine an raced out of my chest.

"By the way Y/N... the answer is 3 not 67, I can't even process how you'd make that kind of mistake but if you ever need help with math, let me know. I'm sure you would've gotten it right if you were listening."

He whispered in my ear before standing up and leaving the room. The whole interaction caused a shiver to go down my spine in shock before the anger came rushing back into my veins. Who does this man think he is? And what a cringy tag line, "Snow always lands on top"? please. We will just have to see about that one.

[chaifootsteps]

(incoming rant, apologies)

anon who said Stolas is not a "goodie pure angel who does everything right" - that's not entirely the problem his critics have, tbh?

the creators have said he's flawed but ultimately a good person, which is basically the narrative the show runs with: that Stolas is just a bit flawed and made some mistakes, but they're ultimately minor and he deserves to be happy

what his critics contend is that Stolas is not just a bit flawed but is abusive towards Blitzo and neglectful of Via far beyond just regular divorce upheaval. but the show never owns up to that - it never seems to think all that deeply about his behavior or how hypocritcal or neglectful he is

second the anon states that just because the show depicts his reactions doesn't mean the creators are saying he is innocent.

this completely ignores how framing works and how it can be used to send a message. when the camera shows Blitzo leaving the Anti Blitzo party while looking at Stolas smiling and surrounded in glowing light, what is the framing trying to say? it's not "the relationship was fractious and these two need time to themselves", it's "Blitzo has made a huge mistake and missed out on the love of his life due to his own flaws". when the camera favors Stolas crying when Blitzo chews him out, what is it trying to say? it's not "Blitzo has a point here", it's "Blitzo has gone too far and his cynicism is costing him love". when it shows a perspective shot from Blitzo's eyes looking at Stolas while he cries about wanting someone to want him, what is it trying to say? it's not "Stolas is still failing to tell Blitzo what he loves about him in particular", it's "Blitzo does want to be that person for Stolas but won't admit it"

the framing communicates what the writers mean and it favors Stolas, every single time

the part about "anyone who babifies him is in the wrong" - idk if this is aimed at his stans or in universe, but if it's talking about the characters it definitely doesn't seem that way. Verosika literally calls him "baby" and she's framed as being correct when she tells Blitzo he should just let Stolas go and sleep with someone else if he wants. she's the voice of reason in the episode as far as the framing goes - if she wasn't supposed to be, Blitzo would be allowed in the script to fill her in on all the context she's missing about the "relationship" and point out the amount of projection she's doing. but he's not and frankly I don't think the show has earnt the benefit of the doubt when it comes to the writing being secretly sophisticated - they literally had Stella say out loud 'I like tormenting you'. it's not that deep and acting like where they're going with Stolas will be is ignoring the consistent pattern around how he's been written or rather, rewritten

and this is a repeated pattern with Stolas - anytime someone could make an obvious rebuttal to something he says, they never do even when it makes little sense.

Stolas claims it wasn't cheating because Stella never loved him? For some reason Andrealphus and Stella don't point out it was still cheating no matter how he tries to spin it and he hurt Via to boot, in a scene where they're trying to assign blame to him to get more in a divorce settlement

And that's not going into the numerous times this happens with Blitzo. The opening of Apology Tour is basically an argument between the two and Blitzo, who has been characterized as a combative and defensive person to this point, suddenly doesn't pull out anything but vague notions about Stolas looking down on him despite the many, many things he could have said to point out how shitty Stolas has been?

even when Stolas pulls the ultimate self-centred card of 'I can't believe you prioritized your daughter's health over me even though you literally sent your employees to help', Blitzo responds with something the writers can use to make him look worse (that he didn't tell Stolas about the Harvest Moon assassination attempt, which is another retcon why he didn't but let's shelve that for now) instead of what you'd expect him to say: that Stolas is being a selfish jackass who thinks the world revolves around his entitled, ungrateful self when a prince like him should have had his legions rescue him instead of making a working class imp risk his family to help him

that example above really zeroes in on the dissonance. they've written Stolas to be a petty, vindictive piece of shit who's portrayed as somehow in the right for judging Blitzo for not immediately LARPing as his white knight and being at his beck and call whenever he asks for it. any writer who had an objective view of their own characters would not let Stolas say something as awful as he said in Apology Tour (and that's just one of many awful things he says in that scene alone) and just let it slide

but they do, because as far as they're concerned Stolas' petty behavior is just him being sassy and finally standing up for himself against...*checks notes* the person he coerced into sex who made no secret of the fact that he found Stolas' attentions repulsive from the start.

I'm genuinely curious where this 'critics take any line Stolas says in the worst faith possible' thing comes from, or claiming critics don't think comes from. It's because critics think about the episodes on more than a surface level that we criticize Stolas, because we don't accept what the framing is trying to say and nothing else.

In what way can someone take Stolas shaming his love interest for taking his daughter to the doctor in good faith? Or him engaging in literal abusive behavior by rewriting reality to favor himself (and being only nominally aware he's even doing it) and doing DARVO on Blitzo? If it was just one thing - just Stolas doing a classism occasionally - then it might be easier to think it was just him being insensitive.

But Stolas is a character who coerced someone into sex in a show that categorically refuses to use the words 'coercion' or 'rape' to describe what he's done, while showing blink and you miss it shots of Blitzo looking violated and furious at what he has to do to appease Stolas, during a musical montage that's once again framed like Blitzo is the one realizing he's wronged Stolas and getting teary-eyed about it.

this isn't critics claiming Stolas is being treated like a perfect angel when the show makes it clear he's flawed. this is critics claiming Stolas is abusive and the show is bending over backwards not only to hide it, but to act like he's this great catch Blitzo is missing out on and Blitzo is more in the wrong

One moment of Stolas saying 'well maybe I did something wrong' during that song doesn't make up for the fact that the writers act like someone who has had all of season 2 to put it together that he's screwed up and has been told multiple times what the problem is, is 'just not being self aware enough', like it's some minor thing he's trying to claim Blitzo was the one to make it all about sex or that he never looked down on him.

someone who rewrites reality as much as Stolas does and lacks apparently any ability to self-reflect and actually apologize and improve is abusive. period, kill shot, end of.

the only thing that would convince me at this point that the writing isn't trying to retcon Stolas into a better person than he is (and failing harder than ever) would be if in the upcoming storyline where he presumably loses everything, the writing spares no quarter that he messed up:

that the power dynamic between him and Blitzo is pointed out and how stacked the deck was in his favor is said explicitly without victim-blaming Blitzo

that using the fact he was getting shot at to make the deal is acknowledged for the aggravating factor it is

that he was gambling with Via's inheritance solely to get more sex out of Blitzo and him claiming to support his business is self-serving claptrap and he knew that all along

that he doesn't love Blitzo, he loves the idea of love and anyone who will save him from his loneliness will do (or at the very least he sucks at communicating why he loves Blitzo)

that Blitzo had every right to not only be confused but angry with him when he confessed and Stolas expected not only immediate forgiveness, but his love - love he felt entitled to and threw a tantrum when he didn't get it

that he's a neglectful father who promises to do better and not only fails to do so but prioritizes his affair over her and drinks himself into oblivion when he's sad even though there's a possibility she might need him

that he didn't tell her about Stella or the assassination attempt because he was again prioritizing Blitzo

that he's failed to raise his heir and teach her magic properly, the literal only thing the Goetia family wanted out of him

that he abuses his imp servants and sees the lower classes as invisible objects for him to use - when he isn't busy extorting sex out of them, that is

and finally that he blames everyone else for his problems and fundamentally never changes. Blitzo is still an object who should meet his needs and Via is still his neglected daughter who should accept the bare minimum from him when he remembers she exists

this isn't the profile of a flawed but sympathetic character, it's one of a deeply unsympathetic loser who takes while giving virtually nothing back. and that's what the show refuses to own up to. we're supposed to think Stolas is tragic but want him to turn his life around, while I would rather see Striker finish the job so Blitzo can be free of the miserable Stol1tz plotline and become a better person in other ways that actually matter, instead of finishing his transformation into Stolas' very own Emotional Support Poor

tl:dr but Stolas' critics don't think he's a Mary Sue. He's a Jerk Sue, a Black Hole Sue. He's a far worse person than the show wants to admit and they've sunk to truly pretzel levels of mental gymnastics trying to prove that to the viewers with all their retcons and insane troll logic lately

Excellent writeup. Stolas's writers say he's one thing, his words and actions say another, and it really is as simple as that.

[brittle-doughie]

(Part 2!)

The next day, Sunflower Cookie went back to the ruin castle, overgrown with sunflowers taller than the crumble walls themselves. Something felt off, along with the “soul-jam” that they found yesterday. Sunflower Cookie was gonna get to the bottom of this mystery, if they don’t like it or not. They hop and climb over the rumble on the ground, getting into the castle and passing by the glass mural. They grab the soul-jam out of their messenger bag, the warm teardrop gem still warm in their hands. “So what is my connection with this castle? You talked yesterday so you can talk today.” Sunflower Cookie question the gem, kicking a small pebble. “Oh, dear friend. You’ll manage to keep your curiosity! But you lost your memories and original form.” The gem said, chuckling then sighing. Sunflower Cookie groans loudly in frustration, annoyed at the clairvoyant answer. “Come on! You said that last night when I asked!” Sunflower Cookie kept walking through the rubble, going deeper and deeper into the castle.

After a while, they reach a library inside the ruin castle. Sunflower Cookie could read for hours on end, so they were excited. Browsing the shelves, they notice a book written by someone called Light Milk Cookie that was illustrated by Blooming Butter Cookie. The book was about the theatrical arts and science. The illustrations were fantastic, where Sunflower Cookie couldn’t help feel proud for some reason. “Oh…this book. I remember Light Milk Cookie’s explaining about a lot of stuff for hours while you try to write and draw all of it down for this book, while also trying to pay attention.” The Light of Compassion chuckled. Sunflower Cookie just gave a strange look and puts the book into their bag.

Later, Sunflower Cookie reach an old training ground of sorts. The ground was covered in scratches and the slight smell of spice in the air. “The training grounds where Red Spice Cookie would spar with you, even though you were significantly weaker than him, you still kept up a fight. And then afterwords you two laugh it off.” Sunflower Cookie was definitely put off at that one. They aren’t a fighter, their a writer.

Next, they went into small meditation room, where the cupboards had tea leaves and incense. “I still distinctly remember you not be able to sit still while Clear Flour Cookie and you tried to meditate. And while you didn’t like the tea, you still drank it to make her happy.” Sunflower Cookie has trouble trying to like tea, so that actually made kinda sense.

After that, they went into a garden, still blooming with brightly color flowers of pink and yellow. “The hours you and Sweet Sugar Cookie would work on this garden, getting dirty and observing the bugs. Then, you two take a long nap, exhausted.” Sunflower Cookie doodles a ladybug in their notebook, listening to the soul-jam. They do like to observe bugs, not anything gross though.

Finally, they walked just outside the castle, sitting of a bench. “Fair Salt Cookie would come back sometimes with wounds protecting the innocent. You would tend to him, ranting to him to be more careful while he sighs at your concern. Oh yeah good times.” Sunflower Cookie just listen, vaguely remembering all of it, but there are still torched pieces of a painting.

After exploring the castle, Sunflower Cookie went back to the Cookie Kingdom and went to bed…

…At the Ivory Pagoda, Mystic Flour Cookie’s apathetic atmosphere slightly change. “Oh. Have the seeds grown back to a sunflower? Will we have tea again?”

In the ruin lands of destruction, Burning Spice Cookie laughs in excitement. “Hahaha! Looks like the sparring matches will be greater than ever! Will you have new tricks up your sleeve!?”

Up in the sugary clouds, Eternal Sugar perked up from her slothful nap. “*yawn*. Is that…you…Blooming Butter..?” Her voice softened, cracking with grief. Deep inside the Silver Tree, Shadow Milk Cookie hummed. “Ugh! Thousands of years stuck in this tree, and I can’t think I a play you might like. No matter~ I can always use simple lying!”

And deep in a dark forest, Silent Salt Cookie stop in his tracks, armor covered hand clutching his sword. “…” He looks onto the distance, silence went away with sad silence instead. He walks further in, eventually reaching a ruin castle overgrown with sunflowers taller than the ruin walls. He walks in, passing rubble and further in. He walks towards a bench, sitting on a spot where he sat thousands of years earlier, where he had a friend scold him about be careful while tending to his wounds. He lays a hand over the spot his friend sat, feeling the warmth of a sunset. He now know, that his friends is back, but not the same. They won’t remember him, or anyone else. A single tear drops onto the ground, the only thing breaking the silence.

Neat read.

[termagax]

25- Write about your ship bathing or swimming together 🐟🪝💕

"Come on, you reek."

"I do not."

"This whole place smells like a whales arse"

"Smelled like that before we got here."

The protest was half-hearted, an irritated grumble as they let him scoop them out of the bed anyways. The fish had spent most of the day asleep, whinging about being sore, which meant it was as easy as it'd ever be to get them to clean up a little.

They relaxed a bit when Roadhog slid into the tub behind them. Their current hideout between jobs was some pricks idyllic vacation home in the mountains. Rat had disabled the alarm and they'd already spent the better part of the week enjoying the luxuries of the wealthy, one of which happened to be absurdly massive bathtubs.

They had a lot of mass between the two of them, so it wasn't too often that there was ever really room for the both of them to bathe comfortably. Even still, the fish's ridiculous tail had to drape over the far edge so they could properly stretch out.

"I think I smell nice," they said, leaning back into his stomach as hot water filled the tub.

"You don't," he said with a snort. They jabbed him in the side with a bony elbow. He just laughed.

If he was being honest, most of the time they didn't smell awful. They had a naturally fishy sort of thing going on, briney and musty, but like a wide, swampy river more than a bait shop. Not the best, but he'd developed a taste for it that made it seem... sweet, almost. Homey, if he was feeling sappy.

Unfortunately it was only as pleasant as it was understated. They were the most resistant of the trio to ever really 'clean up' and as the weeks wore on it began to show - and the more time they spent away from Oz, the more the nose-blindness of the disgusting wasteland faded away and Roadhog found himself with less and less tolerance for their preferred level of filth.

"Turn the water off," they said. They didn't move to do so themselves.

"It's not full." It was barely halfway, just covering their lap.

"I don't like it full."

"You're a fish. You love water."

"Not this water," they said.

"Not radioactive enough for you?"

"It's freshwater, dumb fuck," they kicked the faucet to punctuate. "It's different."

"Mmm," the smell of an incoming rant was thicker than the seaweed stink.

"Its awful, it's like trying to breathe in fucking smoke, and it tastes weird, and I get all dried out and itchy for days afterwards and it's not like I can just pop out for a swim or anything after because you cunts dragged me away from my perfectly good ocean so we can run from the cops in more scenic locations, like this absolute charmer of a fucking ice factory." They gestured at the massive, fancy windows, where a picturesque snow was falling over a landscape that looked straight from a christmas card.

"Mhm." He grabbed one of the fancy-pants soaps and lathered it up, manuvering them while they complained so he could scrub down their back. He pressed down a little harder than strictly neccessary, paying special attention to the spots they always said were sore.

He wasn't really listening as they bitched about soap in their gills and scales that shed everywhere and how much they hated flowery smells. He'd heard it all before. They could whine all they wanted, really, because there was nothing so satisfying as watching their dull, dusty scales turn all shiny, a shimmery blue-green-pink that flowed in the light.

So he stuck to his task, working down their back, melting the tense cables of muscle down smooth as they puttered on, eventually fading out into an indistinct grumble and vague, frustrated gesture.

"Babe," they complained, rolling their shoulders into his hands. "I'm trying to gripe here."

"I'm not stopping you," he said with a chuckle. They groaned, sinking into the water and rearranging themself in the tub, settling on the other side so they could glare at him more effectively. The ire was less convincing when they stuck a leg up into his face.

He rolled his eyes and complied, continuing the soapy massage, feeling extremely smug as their irritation drained away.They rested their head against their tail, expression soft as they watched him. He could never tell what they were thinking. His own face always gave him away and they could read him like a hand of cards, but he never had been able to see what was behind those eyes when they stared at him like that, intense but unfocused all at once. That's probably why the question caught him so off guard.

"Why are you so nice to me?"

He faltered for a second.

"I'm not." Deflecting seemed safest. Those eyes left his hands, staring straight up at him now.

"You don't even like me."

"Mmm." He didn't really say anything. He kept his eyes on their legs.

"You don't. You don't like anything about me." They kicked his chest with the leg he wasn't holding. He grabbed them by the shin before they could do it again.

A glance spared to their face showed a much more comprehensible look. That stupid, smug little smirk with their teeth poking out even more than usual, the kind that pushed up their eyes and flared out their fins. Whatever had shadowed them earlier had been pushed aside for this - an invitation to play.

"I don't," he conceded. He couldn't help but grin, though. He brought a foot to his face, planted a kiss right on their bony ankle. "You whine about everything."

Their eyes sparkled. He dragged them closer, away from the edge of the tub until their legs were straddling him and he could hold them by the hips. They had to scramble to stay upright.

"You're a lazy drunk." A kiss to the inside of one knee.

"You're a pervert." Leaning over to kiss their chest, licking into a gill for good measure.

"You're obnoxious - too clingy." A kiss to their shoulder.

"You're disgusting, rude, ugly, slimy, weirdo." A trail of kisses up their neck punctuating each little insult.

"And," He looked right in their eyes, forehead pressed into theirs. He could feel the gentle purr-like rumble in their chest. "You fucking smell."

The tension broke like glass on brick, their barking laugh loud enough to make him recoil. Still, the laugh was contagious, and he chuckled as they wrapped their arms around his head, pulling him down for a proper kiss.

He payed them back by dunking their head under the water.

They shot back up, betrayed and sputtering an awful lot for someone who could breathe under there. He just laughed and lathered his hands with shampoo, pulling them close again while they muttered obsceneties and threats of murder.

[littl3d0ll-art]

I don’t normally give lore dumps on art posts but I will for this one cuz it’s important for my au(and also another au I wanna do later…). Rant about lamb and goat backstory stuff ahead.

Anyways this is Chive(pronounced chee-veh), they’re Lambie(the lamb’s) childhood friend! They both lived and grew up in the same little sheep village together, but Chive was the only goat there. Nobody really knows where they came from; they were found by the lamb half-dead in the forest nearby while they were very young. They didn’t know how to talk, but once they learned they were still a mystery since they had no memories of anything, and so they were taken in by the sheep and raised as one of their own. Chive and Lambie were the only children so they became best friends really quickly, and were basically inseparable from the start.

Years later, Chive became the village knight as a way of repaying back the village, vowing to protect them all- especially Lambie- to their last breath, which is what they did. Chive died at the hand of the soldiers of the old faith who had invaded the village, killing everyone except for the lamb who Chive was trying to keep hidden. I’m gonna admit I don’t have this next part figured out, but somehow the lamb gets a hold of a piece of Chive’s horn to keep as like a memento before they’re captured and then sacrificed. Regular game plot ensues for the first few days after their resurrection until through the crown or Narinder’s knowledge they learn how to make a golem to help them out around the cult and on crusades, and so they make the goat(given the name Goatsie)

Sometime between Chive’s death and the creation of the goat, Chive finds themself before Narinder to be helped in passing through to the afterlife as he usually does, but they plead with Narinder to be sent back somehow to continue being by Lambie’s side to help and protect them. Narinder gives them a deal, saying he’ll send their soul back to possess the nearest and best vessel, but they won’t have any memories of their life, just a vague feeling and sense of purpose. Chive finds this to be more than good enough and so they agree, and end up possessing the golem Lambie makes.

Goatsie being a goat and looking a lot like Chive is honestly just a coincidence caused by Lambie trying to use the horn piece first during the golem ritual instead of their own flesh as a way of trying to bring Chive back somehow. This obviously doesn’t work, and so they end up doing what they originally had to, but since the horn piece was used first this created a golem that looked more like Chive while having the Lamb’s same exact face(minus the pupils ofc). This is just a cosmetic thing though and doesn’t affect anything. All personality traits that the goat didn’t get from Lambie are just traces of Chive as a consequence of their ghost possessing them. The only person that knows of Chive’s ghost situation is Narinder, not even the goat is aware of this

[myfandomrealitea]

I wish I had a place to post my fucked up arts without being cancelled 😭

Honestly I think the drawn arts have suffered perhaps the most out of modern censorship. Especially the communities, too, because when sites ban things to please advertisers, investors and the handful of people squawking about protecting the children, it creates this mentality of; 'if its been banned its bad, so whoever makes it or enjoys it is bad too.'

There will literally always be at least one person who comes after you for what you create. Lord knows I enough enough angry anons in my inbox on a daily basis and all I do is rant about antis and occasionally knock my braincells together with enough force to say something vaguely helpful.

My best advice for avoiding being 'cancelled' is to heavily, heavily curate your online space and the people you aim to include within it. This could be by:

Following specifically other blogs who post similar content or express interest in similar content to what you produce or your interests.

Pre-emptively blocking blogs who express disgust or hatred for the content you produce or like, blogs who express moral stances conflicting to yours, ect. This is expressly helpful on sites like Twitter where options to limit engagement are limited.

Tagging properly, and including trigger and warnings tags whom others are likely to have blocked. This prevents people from seeing something they don't want to, and also gives you coverage if they try to accuse you of 'spreading it around.'

In cases of art that may have more extreme content, try using spoiler flags or any filtration option that requires viewers to actively consent to viewing it. Relevant to above, nobody can cry wolf about 'being exposed' because they would've had to physically reveal the work to themselves.

DeviantArt unfortunately recently changed its policies to a frankly ridiculously constrictive degree, so while I previously would've recommended that as a place to host your artwork and find a safer community, I can no longer. Hopefully someone is successful in pushing for the site to reform to its previous rules soon.

ArtStation is an option. The site is not eligible to anyone under 18 and sexual, gore, fetish, and 'mature' content is allowed provided the usual stipulation that you aren't using it in order to cause, infer or threaten harm against someone. A lot of the site is geared toward marketing artwork, though, so you might be hard pressed to find more of a community aspect to it.

Rule 34.com is... Objectively one of the best places you can host your artwork if you create content that is based on sexual themes. The protective rights aren't the greatest, but anyone who uses Rule 34 has no leg to stand on regarding morality and censorship.

Reddit has a lot of subreddits for sharing art, and a bonus is you can find subreddits specifically geared toward artwork based on things like gore, violence, sexual content, ect. Filtering options and monitoring are basically non-existent, however. Also, Reddit sometimes spontaneously decides a specific post is against its TOS and yeets it.

There's also the option of building a Discord server based around sharing artwork of certain themes, which is objectively the format that allows you the most control over who views it, but it also means your art has a limited presence. (Can't be reblogged, ect.)

If you do check out any of the websites, always be thorough in reading the Terms of Service and the Community Guidelines.

[tanjamikaelson]

BEST FRIEND'S BROTHER - CHAPTER 33

MASTERLIST

CHAPTER 33: | POGUELANDIA |

warnings: miscarriage The boat gently bobbed as it arrived at the deserted island, its quiet shores welcoming you all in your exhausted state. Everyone piled out of the boat, feet sinking into the soft sand as you all searched for a place to sit and regroup.

“Come on, boys.” John B grunted as he and the others worked to pull the boat ashore. “That’s good.”

"Good job, guys," Sarah called out from where she perched on the rocks, watching everyone settle.

You took a seat, your mind still spinning from everything that had happened. You glanced at the unfamiliar girl, remembering the tension back in the Bahamas. "You’re that girl who held a knife to my throat in the Bahamas,” you blurted, looking at Cleo.

Cleo gave a small, apologetic smile. “Yeah, sorry about that.”

Before you could dwell on it, JJ piped up, “Okay, anybody know where we’re at?”

"Deserted beach. Unknown island," John B answered vaguely.

"All right, I’ll take that as a no." JJ sighed, letting out a huff of frustration. “Plan A, huh, Pope? That went well.”

"This is the lowest we can go,” Pope ranted, frustration seeping into every word. “We literally have nothing else to lose. The cross? Gone."

"The gold?" Sarah added, her voice full of defeat. “Gone.”

"Seriously, if we had a nickel for every time we got beat up, I’d say we’re at a dollar fifty," JJ joked, trying to cut through the gloom.

"That’s more than I got on me," Kiara muttered, her voice matching the weary mood.

"That somehow doesn’t make me feel better," Sarah commented, leaning her head against you. The weight of her touch was both comforting and heavy, a reminder that you were all in this together, whether you liked it or not.

"Yeah, you’re right," John B conceded, but he wasn’t willing to let the group sink into despair just yet. “But, I mean, we’ve had some good stuff happen, right?”

Pope wasn’t buying it. “Name something.”

John B paused, then with a shrug, said, “Um… uh, the boiler room. If the boiler didn’t explode, I wouldn’t have gotten away from Rafe. I couldn’t have grabbed the Zodiac and gotten us out of there.”

“That wasn’t luck,” Cleo interrupted, smiling a little. “That thing was gonna blow the second I stopped feeding it.”

John B muttered, “Stealing my thunder, Cleo.”

“Sorry,” Cleo smirked.

John B wasn't giving up. “Pope, you’re related to Denmark Tanny. That’s crazy.”

“And I lost all his inheritance,” Pope shot back, his voice tight with frustration.

John B tried again, his determination unwavering. “You know what? Guys, this is it. This is the Pogue life.”

He jumped up, facing all of you, the wind ruffling his hair. “We are in the Caribbean, our own little slice of paradise, with my best friends, my family. I don’t know, I wouldn’t wanna do it with anyone else.”

He was really trying, and despite everything, you couldn’t help but admire that.

“Look, and while you guys were complaining about every little thing… JJ?”

“Hm?” JJ looked up.

“I was checking out those burly lefts,” John B pointed toward the waves.

JJ’s face lit up. “There’s some slabs out there,” he nodded.

"Just a few," John B grinned.

“Too bad there aren’t any boards,” Kiara said, though her voice lacked the fight she usually had.

“We could bodysurf till we make some boards,” John B suggested.

“Lame,” Kiara smiled faintly.

“Pope? Come on, man,” John B pleaded.

Pope sighed. “They do look pretty tasty.”

“Oh yes, they do,” John B agreed.

You couldn’t help but chuckle at their back-and-forth. For a moment, it felt like you could breathe again.

“There’s nobody around,” Pope finally said, loosening up a bit. “We could squat here for a bit. Kind of belongs to us now, huh?”

"You got a point," John B said, doing the Pogue handshake with Pope.

“Six-way split?” Pope joked, trying to lighten the mood.

“Poguelandia,” JJ suddenly piped up in a posh accent. “I claim thee Poguelandia.”

“Oh boy,” John B muttered, smiling despite himself.

“I like the ring of it. I’m gonna make a flag,” JJ continued enthusiastically. “It’s gonna have a chicken on it, with a coconut bra, smoking a J… in Crocs.”

Laughter bubbled from you, Sarah, and the girls. For a brief moment, it felt like everything was okay again.

"I could use a J," Kiara commented, her voice playful.

"Me too," you added, your grin widening as Sarah leaned more into you.

"Can we vote on this flag?" Sarah questioned.

"Absolutely not," JJ declared, making you laugh even harder.

John B approached Sarah with a soft smile. “Till death do us part?”

“Till death do us part,” Sarah echoed, warmth returning to her eyes as she held his gaze.

“Welcome back to the Pogue life,” John B grinned, pulling her up.

“Full Pogue,” Sarah said, a genuine smile tugging at her lips.

John B repeated her words, his voice lighter than it had been in days. “Full Pogue.”

“Going full Pogue,” JJ added, grabbing Kiara’s hand.

“To going full Pogue,” Kiara smiled, looking up at JJ.

The two couples began walking down the beach, their voices mingling with the sound of the waves. You, Pope, and Cleo followed behind them, your heart lighter for the first time in what felt like forever. In moments like this, surrounded by the Pogues’ laughter and warmth, it was easy to forget the weight of everything else—the danger, Rafe, the uncertainty of your future, and the life growing inside you. But deep down, you knew the peace wouldn’t last long.

•°•°•°•°•°•

Over the course of a few weeks, life on the island began to settle into a rhythm. The days were filled with makeshift adventures—exploring, swimming, talking about anything but the pain that lingered just beneath the surface. You and Kiara had grown closer again, your friendship finding its footing after the chaos that had kept you apart. It felt good, the two of you laughing together like you used to. Cleo, too, had become a steady presence in your life, her straightforward attitude balancing out the emotional waves you sometimes felt crashing over you. She had this way of making you feel like everything could be handled, no matter how big or small.

But beneath the surface of it all, you were struggling. You hadn’t told anyone about your pregnancy at first—not about the confusion, the fear, the questions that had plagued you since the moment you suspected it. And then the reality of it came crashing down in the most heartbreaking way possible.

The miscarriage happened quietly, almost as if your body had been holding its breath for too long, waiting for everything to catch up. You were alone when it started, sitting by the water one afternoon, letting the sun warm your skin. At first, you didn’t even recognize the small cramps that started in your abdomen, dismissing them as nothing more than the stress of everything piling up. But then the pain intensified, waves of it crashing through you until you realized something was horribly wrong.

You managed to make your way back to the group, but by the time you reached the others, you knew deep down what was happening. The look in Sarah’s eyes when she saw you doubled over in pain told you that she knew, too.

“Oh my God, Y/N,” Sarah rushed to your side, grabbing hold of you, her voice filled with worry.

“I think—” you managed to say through the pain, your hand clutching your stomach.

The words barely left your lips before the world around you blurred. Sarah, Kie, and Cleo were instantly by your side, guiding you to a shaded spot under the trees. Their presence was a comfort, even though there wasn’t anything they could do to stop what was happening.

You hated that it had to happen here, on this deserted island, far from the help and care you might’ve gotten back home. But in a way, you were grateful for the girls who stayed with you. Sarah, more than anyone, understood the weight of what you were feeling. She never left your side for a second, her arm wrapped tightly around your shoulders as you curled up on the ground, trying to ride out the pain.

“I’m so sorry,” Sarah whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “I’m so, so sorry.”

Her words broke something inside you. She was always like a sister to you, always the one to be there when things fell apart. You leaned into her, letting her hold you as you cried, the tears falling silently at first, then turning into sobs that wracked your entire body. The pain wasn’t just physical—it was deeper than that, a loss that clawed at your heart, leaving you feeling hollow.

Kiara knelt beside you, her hand on your arm, offering quiet support. Cleo stayed nearby too, her presence a silent promise that you weren’t alone in this, that even though they couldn’t understand the depths of your pain, they were here for you. The girls surrounded you like a protective barrier, shielding you from the world for just a little while longer.

The days that followed were difficult, a mix of sadness, confusion, and a strange, hollow acceptance. At first, it was hard to wrap your mind around everything that had happened. You had never planned for this pregnancy, and deep down, you knew that if you had been able to reach a doctor in time, you would have chosen to end it. But now, that choice had been taken from you, and though the weight of that loss felt suffocating at times, you began to find a strange sense of peace.

Sarah stayed close, checking on you constantly, making sure you ate, that you drank enough water. She didn’t push you to talk, she just sat with you, her presence enough to keep you grounded when you felt like the world was slipping out from under your feet.

With Sarah, Kie, and Cleo by your side, you slowly started returning to some version of normality. It wasn’t like you woke up one day and everything was fine; it was a gradual process. The pain and grief lingered, but each day it became just a little bit easier to breathe.

In the following days, you allowed yourself to let go of the guilt that had been eating away at you. The miscarriage, while painful, wasn’t something you had wanted to prevent. You had made peace with the fact that had circumstances been different, you would have chosen to end the pregnancy anyway. That realization, while difficult to accept at first, became a source of strength for you.

You spent more time with Kie and Cleo, their laughter and lightheartedness helping you forget the heaviness of the past few weeks. Kie, always full of energy and optimism, pulled you back into the things that made you feel like yourself again—exploring the island, swimming in the crystal-clear waters, and talking late into the night about anything and everything. Cleo’s tough-love attitude was refreshing too, grounding you in the reality that life, no matter how difficult, always moves forward.

One evening, you sat with Kie and Cleo around a small fire you had made on the beach. The sky was a deep indigo, scattered with stars, and the sound of the ocean was a constant hum in the background.

“I’m sorry you had to go through all that,” Cleo said, her voice steady but full of empathy.

You looked at her and nodded, appreciating her directness. “Yeah, me too. But... I think I’m okay now. It was just... something I needed to accept.”

Kie leaned in, her eyes soft with understanding. “You’re stronger than you know. We’re proud of you, you know that, right?”

A small smile tugged at the corners of your lips. “Thanks. I don’t know what I would’ve done without you guys.”

“Hey, we’re family now,” Cleo said, a smirk on her face. “Pogues for life, right?”

You laughed softly, nodding. “Pogues for life.”

It wasn’t just words anymore; it was a reality. The bond you had with these girls, especially Sarah, had deepened in a way that would last forever. They had been there for you when you had needed them most, and you knew that no matter what happened next, you could face it.

That night, as you lay under the stars with Sarah beside you, you felt a sense of calm wash over you. The ache of loss was still there, but it no longer weighed you down. You had come to terms with it, accepting that some things were beyond your control, and that was okay.

The island had become a place of healing for you—a place where you could let go of the past and embrace whatever came next. And though the future was uncertain, you felt ready to face it. One day at a time, you were finding your way back to yourself.

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