#you can access Parts 1 & 2 from this post as well

[darkccfinds]

Due to the recent ban and censorship issues on Darkccfinds, a determination has been made as of today January 22, 2025

1. From this day on, all posts created from Darkccfinds that refer to an external link to Tumblr will receive a mirror for download and the web address credited without hyperlink to the content referred to

We have always genuinely prioritized the working links provided by the original creators of the content offered as is laudable by nature, but we cannot continue to take risks. This also involves extra effort and work on the part of Darkccfinds and this decision has been arduously debated and very thoughtful. Whereby:

If any of the external authors requests the removal of any of the content provided, their will will prevail. As well as that of the authors and creators themselves who in the past published on Tumblr and deleted or abandoned their blog and working links; which we have resurrected here to host them in a secure hosting and they are safe from oblivion and remain accessible to all those who value them and continue to need them today in the The Sims 3 community

You can resort to all this via DM or in this section #Appeal, all in Darkccfinds

The websites that remain exempt from this measure due to the proven approval passed by the Tumblr platform itself are those that are hosted under these hostings or other platforms:

Blogger GardenofShadows LiveJournal ModTheSims Patreon ( *Always Free links ) TheSimsResource Weebly WordPress

The list may increase or decrease depending on the answer of tumblr team to the last query we have made to solve this problem

2. We will not wait for the Tumblr filter regarding censorship and Darkccfinds will self-censor content considered NSFW by Tumblr

This must be made clear that it will be very much against our will and against some of our values ​​and philosophy, but we will try to maintain our pure essence knowing that it is increasingly difficult to do so on this platform

Thanks again for all the support, understanding and feedback received. Since the return and from the beginning, from the times we have been censored and released

Sincerely, the small team that forms Darkccfinds as a whole.

White-Enamel & Mikeintheshadows.

[gerec]

Master List of X-Men Fic Recs - Part 3

Charles Abused As A Child DOFP Time Travel (Not Logan) Erik Is An Asshole Erik Kidnaps Charles Part 1 Erik Kidnaps Charles Part 2 Feral Erik Funny and/or Warm Fuzzy Fic Halloween Fics Homophobia Hurt Erik Mpreg (Communicating with Unborn Child) Sentinel/Guide AU Top Charles

Master List of X-Men Fic Recs - Part 1 Master List of X-Men Fic Recs - Part 2

[getvalentined]

An open letter to @staff

I already submitted this to Support under "Feedback," but I'm sharing it here too as I don't expect it to get a response, and I feel like putting in out in public may be more effective than sending it off into the void.

The recent post on the Staff blog about changing tumblr to an algorithmic feed features a large amount of misinformation that I feel staff needs to address, openly and honestly, with information on where this data was sourced at the very least.

Claim 1: Algorithms help small creators.

This is false, as algorithms are designed to push content that gets engagement in order to get it more engagement, thereby assuring that the popular remain popular and the small remain small except in instances of extreme luck.

This can already be seen on the tumblr radar, which is a combination of staff picks (usually the same half-dozen fandoms or niche special interests like Lego photography) which already have a ton of engagement, or posts that are getting enough engagement to hit the radar organically. Tumblr has an algorithm that runs like every other socmed algorithm on the planet, and it will decimate the reach of small creators just like every other platform before it.

Claim 2: Only a small portion of users utilize the chronological feed.

You can find a poll by user @darkwood-sleddog here that at the time of writing this, sits at over 40 THOUSAND responses showing that over 96 percent of them use the chronological feed*. Claiming otherwise isn't just a misstatement, it's a lie. You are lying to your core userbase and expecting them to accept it as fact. It's not just unethical, it's insulting to people who have been supporting your platform for over a decade.

Claim 3: Tumblr is not easy to use.

This is also 100% false and you ABSOLUTELY know it. Tumblr is EXTREMELY easy to use, the issue is that the documentation, the explanations of features, and often even the stability of the service is subpar. All of this would be very easy for staff to fix, if they would invest in the creation of walkthroughs and clear explanations of how various site features work, as well as finally fixing the search function. Your inability to explain how your service works should not result in completely ignoring the needs and wants of your core long-term userbase. The fact that you're more willing to invest in the very systems that have made every other form of social media so horrifically toxic than in trying to make it easier for people to use the service AS IT WORKS NOW and fixing the parts that don't work as well speaks volumes toward what tumblr staff actually cares about.

You will not get a paycheck if your platform becomes defunct, and the thing that makes it special right now is that it is the ONLY large-scale socmed platform on THE ENTIRE INTERNET with a true chronological feed and no aggressive algorithmic content serving. The recent post from staff indicates that you are going to kill that, and are insisting that it's what we want. It is not. I'd hazard to guess that most of the dev team knows it isn't what we want, but I assume the money people don't care. The user base isn't relevant, just how much money they can bring in.

The CEO stated he wanted this to remain as sort of the last bastion of the Old Internet, and yet here we are, watching you declare you intend to burn it to the ground.

You can do so much better than this.

Response to the Update

Under the cut for readability, because everything said above still applies.

I already said this in a reblog on the post itself, but I'm adding it to this one for easy access: people read it that way because that's what you said.

Staff considers the main feed as it exists to be "outdated," to the point that you literally used that word to describe it, and the main goals expressed in this announcement is to figure out what makes "high-quality content" and serve that to users moving forward.

People read it that way because that is what you said.

*The final results of the poll, after 24 hours:

136,635 votes breaks down thusly:

An algorithm based feed where I get "the best of tumblr." @ 1.3% (roughly 1,776 votes)

Chronological feed that only features blogs I follow. @ 95.2% (roughly 130,077 votes)

This doesn't affect me personally. @ 3.5% (roughly 4,782 votes)

[metamatar]

In 2005, the tellingly named studio After Stone wall Productions released a film titled Dangerous Living: Coming Out in the Developing World. Featuring interviews with various LGBT activists from different countries outside the West, spliced up and lumped together haphazardly, the film delivers the following overarching messages: that it is not safe to be queer in the "developing world," that what queer spaces do exist in the "developing world" are to be found in certain metropolises: Cairo, Kuala Lumpur, Calcutta, Rio de Janeiro—and that these sites trace their genealogy to the Stonewall riots. Furthermore, according to the film, queerness/gayness and sometimes transness (when it is acknowledged) were invented in the West. Epistemic breaking points such as the Stone wall riots and canonized locales such as San Francisco and Greenwich Village are the originating points of this innovation against the backdrop of a timeless, pervasive heterosexism. This cosmopolitan gayness/queerness then "spreads" from the metropole to the periphery, forming a web from city to city This coincides with Jack Halberstam's (excruciatingly white) analysis in his book In a Queer Time and Place: the idea of "metronorma tivity" that "the rural is made to function as a closet for urban sexualities in most accounts of rural queer migration" and that "the metronormative narrative maps a story of migration onto the coming-out narrative" (2005, 36-37). We can extend Halberstam's analysis further and see the ways that the closet/rural/(post)colony as well as out/urban/metropole get col lapsed onto each other—the queer is always pulled closer to the heart of capital.

The overarching savior narrative occurs towards the end of the film, when each interviewee, in clips spliced together, tells his or her story of emigrating to the West. After a particularly heart-wrenching story of Ashraf Zanati's departure from Egypt, the narrator comments that "Ashraf Zanati left Egypt. Ashraf had become part of a planetary minority." Although the film purports to care about the status of queers in the "developing world," it actually forms a wounded attachment that fetishizes displacement and bifurcates the queer from his or her society. This narration of non-Western countries as inherently unsafe for queer subjects produces the very displacement it describes, in a manner similar to the ways nine teenthcentury colonial archaeology laid the foundations for Zionism and the dispossession of Arab Jews. Writing about the European "discovery" and destruction of the Cairo Geniza—a building that had housed pieces of paper documenting centuries of jewish Egyptian history—Shohat (2006) shows us that the discursive/ archival dislocation of Egyptian Jews by the forces of European/Ashkenazi colonialism anticipated the later dislocation of Egyptian Jews. This dislocation would form part of the backbone of Zionist historiography's production of a "morbidly selective 'tracing the dots' from pogrom to pogrom." The fetishization of queer displacement, as projected by Dangerous Living, performs a similar historical flip to the one Shohat documents: "If at the time of the 'Geniza discovery' Egyptian Jews were still seen as part of the colonized Arab world, with the partition of Palestine, Arab-Jews, in a historical shift, suddenly became simply 'Jews'" (Shohat 2006, 205). Through various colonial practices, there was a discursive bifurcation between the "Arab" and the "Jew"; in the case of case of Dangerous Living there is a similar bifurcation between the "Egyptian" and the "Queer."

Papantonopoulou, Saffo. “‘Even a Freak Like You Would Be Safe in Tel Aviv’: Transgender Subjects, Wounded Attachments, and the Zionist Economy of Gratitude.” Women’s Studies Quarterly, vol. 42, no. 1/2, 2014, pp. 278–93. JSTOR, http://www.jstor.org/stable/24364930. Accessed 11 Nov. 2024.

[erodasfishtacos]

Conflict of Interests (roommatesbf!h)

prompt: yn knows that she has a bit of a crush on her roommate/friend's bf but until an opportunity is put in her lap, she tries her best to resist.

word count: 9k

warnings: not necessarily infidelity yet but there's some shady business, mff, fxf

author's note:

There is 3 more parts to this up on patreon.

I upload a piece of writing every 1-3 days.

I recently started a second tier called The OG Tier where 2-3 one shots (1-4kish) are posted a week.

There are currently 350 + pieces available to read

Tier I - $3 USD where you get access to main stories, everything except the mini one shots.

Tier II - $5 USD where you get access to every piece of writing!

you can check it out here!

++ YN was pretty open, easy to say ‘yes’, and take risk but she wasn’t careless.

She weighed the reward versus the consequence, trying to make as much of an informed decision as she can before jumping in the metaphorical deep-end.

However, she had absolutely miscalculated and found herself reaping the consequences of her actions.

A ruined friendship, an empty second bedroom because said friend had moved out, and a few of their friends who were taking sides.

They weren’t on hers.

YN should have said ‘no’, at the time she knew she shouldn’t have, it would lead to nothing good because of how YN actually felt about Harry.

+

YN and Kay had been friends for years, meeting in senior year of high school when Kay had to transfer schools because of her father getting a job change.

They hit it off right away, deciding to room in college together, and now they had moved from a tiny dorm to more of a spacious apartment.

Kay and YN have lived together for three years at this point, they rarely had any issues, an occasional stolen yogurt or leaving laundry in the washer but nothing that shook the foundation of their friendship.

Until Harry walks into their lives.

Well quite literally walks into her bedroom while she’s getting dressed.

YN was going out to dinner with her family, her brother was in town and they were meeting at an Italian restaurant a few blocks down.

It was a fancier restaurant which meant that YN was buzzing around her room and connecting bathroom, hair and makeup done except for lipstick and hairspray.

YN had her high-waisted trousers already buttoned snugly against her hips but was trying to find a shirt that worked well with the dressy bottoms.

YN had a strapless bra on but the shirt she finds that she wants to wear looks better without, she tosses the shirt on the bed, and unclasps her bra.

She had just tossed it to the side, to put away later when her door opened.

It doesn’t initially alarm her, Kay has a tendency to not knock or generally respect the idea of privacy so when YN turns to see what she wants.

However, it is not Kay.

It is a man.

A stupidly attractive man whose eyes become as wide as saucers, his big baseball mit of a hand smacks over his eyes to cover them, and starts rambling an apology.

“Who the fuck are you?” YN screeches as she reaches for the first thing she can find, her fleece throw as she holds it over her chest, heart pounding.

“M’so fucking sorry, I-“ The man’s voice is low, a deep drawl and a bit morbid as he keeps his eyes covered with a tattooed hand.

“What’s going on?” Kay appears in the doorway, a smirk tweaking at the corner of lips, “Harry, I told you the door on the left.”

“This is the door on the left,” Harry replies in a higher pitch, which was still ridiculously deep as he stands there, trying to stay as still as a statue.

“Oh shit, I meant my left,” Kay giggles as she moves to tug at his elbow which he very resistantly starts to let her move his face covering, “She’s decent now.”

Harry blinks a few time, his cheeks were twinged a bright pink akin to the tone of bubblegum as he meets YN’s eye sheepishly.

“I am so sorry,” Harry apologizes again, stuffing his hands in his jean pockets, he was handsome - even if this sounded awful, completely out of Kay’s league.

It wasn’t that Kay wasn’t pretty, she was but Harry could have just walked out of some expensive cologne advert even in his jeans and black tee.

His tattoos were dark, no color to be found and it’s a contrast against his tanned skin like he had just been on a vacation with the golden tint.

“It’s okay. It’s completely Kay’s fault,” YN tries to crack a joke, easing the tension because though YN was actually quite proud of her body, she liked her breasts and didn’t mind who saw them - most of the time.

YN still managed to feel self-conscious about what Harry had thought because he looked like that and she felt a weird jolt of butterflies about it.

“But doesn’t she have the nicest pair of tits you’ve ever seen?” Kay nudges Harry, wrapping her hand around his massive bicep as best she can.

“Kay,” YN scolds as she holds the blanket closet, feeling super bare now.

“I’m just saying! I can’t help but stare when I see them,” Her friend shrugs, she had the tendency to be crude, crass, and frankly too much.

Harry has his bottom lip tucked between his two front teeth, eyes now not making contact with YN’s, “C’mon, Kay. Stop embarrassing her. It was an accident and I don’t want to objectify her.”

YN is oddly touched by his respectfulness, she felt like most guys would just openly agree with Kay which would have made her feel uncomfortable.

“Thank you,” YN replies, voice softer and the gaze she shares with Harry feels unusually intense before she’s clearing her throat, “Um, I need to put a shirt on.”

“C’mon, let’s go,” Harry tugs Kay in the direction of the door with one more apologetic glance before he’s closing it behind him.

YN’s stomach does a weird flip, what the fuck.

7 months later +

Harry and Kay are dating.

Which YN is a bit, scratch that, a lot confused by because they just seem like the most unlikely match but not just looks-wise.

Harry is quiet, doesn’t really talk unless he’s asked a question or has something to add to the conversation but he does not speak just to speak.

He does subtle things that he thinks people do not notice and usually don’t (YN does)

The way he will close a cabinet right by YN’s head so she doesn’t accidentally bump into it as she cooks without saying anything.

If he knows YN has a late day at work, he turn on a lamp in the entryway so she doesn’t have to stumble around in the dark and she knows it’s him because Kay wouldn’t be that thoughtful.

Plus she caught him once, he had awkwardly shrugged and said that he didn’t want her tripping and getting hurt before disappearing back down the hall to Kay’s room.

YN has a smile for quite a few minutes after that.

+_+

Kay and Harry are not affectionate which is interesting.

Kay was handsy, typically clinging onto her boyfriend at any time, and their group of friends groaning about the obnoxious amount of PDA.

Not them.

Harry did small gestures here or there like squeeze her shoulder or put his hand on her back, rarely throw an arm over her shoulder at a restaurant or bar.

YN also didn’t hear them from the bedroom.

Kay didn’t have a volume control button, it didn’t take detective-like skills to tell when she was being intimate with someone because of the noise.

It made YN’s skin crawl because it was obvious that they were over-exaggerated, high-pitched moans that made her roll her eyes and couldn’t believe the guys she brought home believed they were real.

But no, YN heard nothing ever.

And Harry was constantly over, Kay had told YN that Harry’s housemate was a nightmare which had him trying to get out of the house as soon as possible.

Harry was just…perfect.

YN knows she shouldn’t been thinking that but he is the closest thing to perfection that she has ever seen or met without a doubt.

On top of his thoughtfulness, he listened and was actually paying attention, no phone in his face, no half ass agreements.

Meanwhile, YN witnesses Kay constantly on her phone while Harry was trying to have a conversation with her - nodding and say “mhm” without looking up.

YN could see the frustration that he’s trying to taper down but that’s when she’ll jump in to let him know that she was paying attention.

The dimples that appear in his cheeks are all the reward that she needs to know that she’s doing that right thing.

Her heart aches a bit because of the crush she wants to have on such an off-limits person, so she’ll push it into the back, the darkest crevice in her mind.

Harry would most likely be mortified to know the shit thay YN thought while he was just trying to be friendly.

It was just that she couldn’t get a ready in them as a couple and that was driving her a bit insane.

Well YN was actually questioning whether she was crazy because she had moment where she thought that Harry was actually going out of his way to do things for her than his own girlfriend.

Then the bathroom incident happens.

YN really, truly didn’t know that Harry was here.

She heard the shower running and assumed that it was Kay in there.

YN and Kay didn’t have much off-limits, it wasn’t out of the norm for her to pop into the bathroom to brush her teeth or pee when Kay was in there or vice versa.

So YN doesn’t think much of opening the bathroom door to grab her hairbrush she had left in there but only she was not met with what she expected.

It was a standing shower, with a glass door which meant there was no privacy for the person if someone came in and holy shit.

Harry was under the stream with his head tilted down, he was running a washcloth over his stomach and holy fuck, she didn’t realize how built he was.

She hadn’t seen him shirtless before, yes, she could gather that he was in shape by the way his biceps flexed or how defined his thighs were when he wore shorts but this was unreal.

YN’s eyes find the harsh vee that is tattooed with laurels, that is leading downwards towards…

“I’m sorry!” YN squeaks out, halfway into the bathroom and her hand extended towards her brush but her muscles lock and she’s frozen for a good half minute, “Oh my god, shit!”

Harry turns at the sound, confusion momentarily crossing his face but he doesn’t seem bothered, does nothing to try to cover himself.

YN was repeating over and over to herself to not look there but she couldn’t ignore that’s where her eyes went first, wanting to continue because he was thick, heavy, and he wasn’t even hard.

YN turns to leave but doesn’t realize that she has stepped on Harry’s discarded clothes which means her foot slips out from under her.

She attempts to steady herself by grabbing the countertop but it is just out of reach as a yelp exits her mouth, falling into a lump of limbs.

Her lip is throbbing because her teeth sliced through the thin skin when she accidentally bit down, her fingertips coming to press against where the blood begins to dribble.

“Fuckin’ hell,” Harry curses as he watches all of this go down in the span of a minute flat, he’s reaching to turn off the faucet before he’s stepping out.

YN cannot fully appreciate Harry in his dripping wet, tanned skin, naked glory because her eyes are foggy with fat tears of embarassment and pain.

Harry grabs his towel, wrapping it haphazardly around his waist, threatening to slip off at any minute when he kneels down.

“Darling, what on earth?” Harry rasps, his eyes tracing her over, his hand coming to cup the side of her face as he holds her still.

He picks up his discarded shirt, pressing the soft cotton to her lip with pressure to stop the bleeding, his voice was comforting and entirely sweet enough to give her a toothache.

“You’re okay, s’okay. Calm down f’me,” Harry coos softly, stroking her hair as the other keeps the shirt against her lip, “I know, I know.”

Just the small little reassurances were digging YN into a deep, treacherous dark hole because she’d never had a boyfriend who would baby her as much as he was doing.

And that’s when YN realizes it, Harry has been babying her the entire time he’s been with Kay, and he just doesn’t do the same for her.

YN was too frazzled to delve any deeper into that right now.

“I’m so sorry, I thought it was Kay in the shower. I am so so sorry-“ YN is trying to tell him through choked sobs, unable to blink the tears away fast enough.

“Stop apologizing, dove. You didn’t know, the tears are killing me though. I haven’t seen you cry before and it’s just as heartbreaking as I would imagine,” Harry frowns, he was still dripping and it was dampening YN’s clothes.

“My lip hurts,” YN huffs out with a edge of a whine, god, it was so easy for her to fall into this baby role with him and let him take care of her, “And I’ve never been more embarrassed in my life.”

“Why would you be embarrassed?” Harry asks as he dabs at her lip, checking to see how steady the flow of blood is before pressing it back.

“I just barged in on you showering and then ate shit, I’ve never had a worse moment of embarrassment,” YN informs him, her face felt hot and she had to stop herself from looking towards the split in his towel.

Jesus Christ, this was her friend's boyfriend and she was swooning like a girl with her first crush in elementary school - she needed to pull herself together.

“S’just me,” Harry murmurs softly, taking the shirt away and watching her mouth for a moment before sitting back, “Nothing to be embarassed by.”

YN and Harry make eye contact which makes her stomach flip in a way that it shouldn’t because he’s off limits but he’s nice and beautiful and naked.

YN swallows harshly as she fails to find a reply.

Harry takes his hand away which she misses as soon as it’s gone, standing up before reaching down to pull her up as well.

“Let me dry off, go change, and I’ll make us dinner, yeah?” Harry says as he brushes a strand of stray hair off of her forehead.

“Yeah,” YN agrees dumbly, hands still shaking and her heart felt like it had just run a marathon with how fast her blood was pumping through it.

“Will you be okay for a minute?” Harry is still checking, he’s a worrier and that much is obvious through his words and facial expression.

YN chuckles out a light snort, not her most attractive moment, “Or what, can I hold your hand and wait while you change?”

It was absolutely and completely meant to be a joke, a sarcastic quip because of course she was okay enough to walk to her bedroom.

Harry doesn’t smile, not really, his voice ever steady and morbid as he replies, “I don’t mind. S’nothing you haven’t seen before now. If it makes you feel better.”

YN throat tightens, the urge to flea was becoming stronger because he wasn’t being outwardly flirty, he was being kind but it still felt wrong - at least because YN was struggling to stay just friendly.

There was nothing in Harry’s words that were overtly sexual or persuasive, his demeanor didn’t give much of anything away either.

“I’ll meet you in the kitchen,” YN manages to tell him before scurrying out of the bathroom as fast as humanly possible.

Even more guilt came when she was undressing, resisting the urge to touch herself to the mental image of Harry stepping out of the shower.

Where the deep vee had lead into trimmed hair that got a bit darker, thicker around the base of his -

“Stop,” YN scolds herself as she tugs on new underwear.

Harry had made it a point not to objectify her when he accidentally saw her chest but YN was better than no man as her mind kept going back to the sheer size and beauty of Harry’s cock.

Anyways.

YN was a shit friend right now.

End of story.

YN takes a little bit longer than necessary to exit her room, feeling like she was doing a walk of shame when she enters the kitchen.

Harry was already chopping up veggies, a pot of water that wasn’t boiling just yet on the stovetop, and it was all very domestic.

YN walks up behind him, itching to put a hand of his back, rub over the lithe, bulky muscles there but instead drums her fingers against the countertop.

“Do you need any help?” YN asks, her voice sounded relatively back to normal by now.

Harry glances over at her, his smile faltering slightly as he puts down the knife, and brings his thumb to her bottom lip again.

“You really did a number on yourself, dove,” Harry tells her, displeased as he traces over the puffy skin, eyes still studying her face.

YN’s heart rate spikes up like she didn’t just spend the last twenty minutes trying to regulate so that she didn’t feel like she was going to pass out.

It was impossible for her to decipher right now if Harry was just genuinely an affectionate, touchy person or whether he was flirting with her.

Not once has YN seen Harry touch her in the same way he was doing to her now - delicate, careful like she was made of the most breakable china he’d ever held.

There’s a jostle at the front door, a key turning into the lock, and YN jumps back out of his hold as he drops his hand, picking up the knife once again.

YN sits down at the kitchen table instead of trying to help, unlocking her phone, and trying to dissociate at whatever pops up on her timeline.

“What is this?” Kay laughs when she walks in, dropping her purse on one of the chairs as she smiles at YN before walking over and wrapping her arms around Harry from the back.

Harry…doesn’t stop cutting the vegetables but does tilt his head to the side look at her, she leans up to kiss his cheek before peeking over his shoulder, “Stir-fry?”

“With shrimp,” Harry tacks on as he turns back from her to focus on his work, his demeanor wasn’t necessarily drastically different but still…different.

Kay didn’t seem disgruntled by his attitude as she rubs his back for a few moments which YN tries to not get jeaous about because it’s not her place to be.

Then she’s plopping down in the chair beside YN, “Sorry, I forgot to text you and tell you I picked up an extra shift. Harry didn’t get the memo until he was already here.”

YN glares at her friend, “I know. I thought you were home, showering, and barged into the bathroom. Only to invade Harry’s privacy.”

Kay lets out a peel of laughter, eyes twinkling and completely unbothered, “It’s even now, right?”

“Huh?” YN asks, not sure what she meant as Harry turns around after adding the lo mein noodles to the boiling water, leaning against the counter with his arms crossed.

There was slight amusement at the tilt of his lips.

“He saw your tits. You saw his dick,” Kay shrugs with another hearty laugh, “You’ve got amazing tits. He’s got an insane dick so-“

“Kay,” Harry cuts in, a bit curt and disapproving, “It was all an accident. We don’t need to go into detail about what we all looked like naked.”

“Well you’re both hot and I’ve seen both of you naked, maybe I’m feeling a little inferior. I have a bombshell best friend and the hottest boyfriend. It makes me feel like chopped liver.”

Kay was looking for validation, specifically in Harry but he was not feeding into her behavior, “Kay, this really isn’t appropriate. Let’s drop it.”

It was not a suggestion.

However, that’s how Kay saw it.

“I’m just bragging, H. Chill out. Does it not inflate your ego if I talk about how big your dick is?” Kay was immature, admittedly and no better than a crude man on her best days - her thought patterns more perverse and blunt than most females.

“Kay,” Harry’s voice is sharp, a tone YN hasn’t hear before as he puts down the knife, “Let’s go to your room for a minute.”

YN sits awkwardly at the table, any butterflies from the interaction with Harry earlier we’re completely gone because of this.

YN could heard Harry’s voice raise, he wasn’t shouting but it was louder than his normal range of volume which lead her to believe they were fighting.

Kay was immature, Harry couldn’t train that out of her, and that’s why YN was surprised when she went for someone like Harry because she usually dated boys younger than her by a year or two - they matched maturities better.

YN stands up, walking over, and taking it upon herself to continue to chop the veggies while politely trying to ignore any of their conversation.

When they walk back out a few minutes later, Harry comes up beside her, just slightly bumping his hip against hers, and saying quietly, “Thanks, sucha good helper.”

It should sound patronizing but it doesn’t, Kay isn’t in here yet, and YN wonders if he would have said that in front of her.

Kay comes back a few minutes later, mood the same, and clearly trying to act like she didn’t just get chewed out by Harry as she makes small talk about work.

+_

YN struggles to sleep that night. 

Her stomach was rumbling because she didn’t indulge in too much of the stir-fry that he had cooked because of the tension between the couple.

Kay was making passive aggressive jabs in her ever cheery cadence while Harry gave her a very serious look, jaw twitching as he harshly chewed.

YN hid out in her room for the rest of the night.

Now it was biting her in the ass because she was starving.

As YN pads out, she has to go through the living, not thinking much when she flips the switch so that the floor lamp in the corner will illuminate some of the space.

There’s movement that makes her jump.

Harry was on the couch, YN had clearly woken him up as he stretched, trying to blink and adjust to the light as he takes in a deep inhale.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” YN turns off the lamp quickly, basking them in darkness again and muttering, “I can find the kitchen without the light.”

YN then proceeds to bump her thigh extremely hard into the side corner of their end table before she’s toppling over for the second time that day.

“Fuck, pet,” Harry curses, his voice sounded different, thick with sleep and a rasp that made it sound like he was a smoker, “What are you doing?”

Harry leans over, turning on the lamp, and squinting until he sees her on the floor, concern crossing his face as he pushes himself off the couch, and knelt beside her.

YN has tears prickling in her eyes, that really fucking hurt, she had already busted her lip today, and god, she looked like such a fucking idiot.

Harry’s voice goes soft again, like he’s just found an injured baby animal, “Oh darling, c’mon. These tears are too much. S’heartbreaking.”

“I just-“ YN hiccups, clutching her thigh that’s pulsing with her heartbeat, “I keep embarrassing myself in front of you and I don’t know why. Plus, my thigh hurts.”

Harry’s frown deepens, “You never need to be embarassed around me. Two times I’ve given your a surprise, s’on me, really. Let’s go put some ice on that.”

Harry helps YN up, guiding her to the kitchen and she yelps when she feels his big hands on her waist, placing her on the kitchen counter.

She was very aware that she was only wearing a big shirt with no pants on, a soft very tame pair of gray panties, and she flushed further.

Harry grabs a bag of frozen green beans, wrapping it in a hand towel, and taking it upon himself to nudge her shirt up her leg until he can place it in the injury.

“Why were you sleeping on the couch?” YN asks while she holds the bag in place, ignoring the ache.

Harry leans against the counter, opposite her, “Kay and I weren’t getting along. I decided to sleep on the couch so that we could have some space.”

“If this is about earlier, about the shower thing-“ YN begins to apologize.

“No, no,” Harry shakes his head, sighing heavily as he runs his hand through his hair, “We’re going through a rough patch in general. We’re just trying to get through it. We’re different in a lot of ways, we butt heads a lot.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. I hope you can make things work,” YN replies softly, free hand picking at the raggedy hem of her shirt.

“Yeah,” Harry bites the corner of his lip, “Why are you awake?”

YN blinks at him, sheepish as she admits, “I’m hungry. Dinner was tense and I wanted to give you guys space. I didn’t eat enough.”

Harry’s expression becomes one of disapproval, “Pet, s’not a reason not to eat. Let me make you somethin’ as an apology.”

YN shakes her head, “You don’t have to do that. I can get something myself.”

“Please? It will make me feel better,” Harry insists, standing back up straight and scratching at his stomach, his hair a bit haywire.

He was so fucking attractive it was sickening.

And this man was sweet to her, offering to cook her meals, and exceeding any of her previous boyfriends - they weren’t even dating.

YN couldn’t determine whether Harry was flirting or just being kind, he didn’t treat Kay like this which was the off thing.

The exact opposite, it actually seemed cold and distant most of the time towards her, his patience limited and his mood dropped.

“Do you like pancakes?” Harry asks, already moving to the fridge to pull out ingredients, “I have a special recipe from my gran that makes ‘em extra fluffy.”

“I have an awful sweet tooth,” YN hides her eyes with her hand for a moment, “I’ll never say no to pancakes, especially if you add chocolate chips. You better be careful, I might fall in love.”

YN freezes because that was definitely not the best thing she could have said, her eyes go wide and lips part in her own surprise.

“I better make them with chocolate chips then,” Harry says casually as he turns to open the cabinet like YN didn’t just nearly have a heart attack nor like she didn’t have to squeeze her thighs together.

YN watches his back as he cooks, the defined muscles flexing when he stirs the batter.

“More,” YN orders from her seat on the counter, swinging her feet.

It felt horribly romantic when he turned around, a mixing bowl in the crook of his arm.

“No more, s’not a dessert,” Harry chides as he reaches over to sprinkle a few more into the mixture like he was easy for her.

“Thank you,” YN hums with a smile, she wishes it wasn’t late because soft music in the background would be even better.

When Harry pours two onto the hot pan, he doesn’t turn around and he keeps his voice steady, “I wouldn’t guess Kay and you would be friends.”

YN shouldn’t but she does, “I wouldn’t guess you and Kay would date.”

Harry shakes his head with a chuckle, “We are not very similar, are we?”

“No, usually Kay dates people very much like herself,” YN tells him, fingertips dancing against the countertop.

“Which is?”

YN bites her lip, trying to say it in the most gentle way, “I love her but she…marches to the beat of her own drum, she doesn’t take things too seriously, and can be reckless. She has a history of dating guys who are younger, don’t have their life planned out.”

Harry turns to look at her after flipping the pancakes, his eyes were intent but he didn’t seem offended by the words she spoke.

They weren’t meant to be offensive, they were the facts.

“And what am I?” Harry raises his eyebrow, “A too serious, stuck up prick?”

“Precisely,” YN grins wide enough that it takes up her entire face.

Harry narrows his eyes before they’re darting down to the bowl of batter.

“Harry, no,” YN laughs, trying to keep it down because Kay was sleeping and she really should be in her own room right now.

“Mm, I think so,” Harry swipes his finger in the mix before stalking forward.

YN had nowhere to run because she was still sat on the kitchen counter but she fruitlessly tries to scramble backwards. 

Harry’s hand comes to her ankle, wrapping around to hold her as he leans forward and swipes it across her cheek as she kicks weakly at him.

“There we go,” Harry smirks as he moves back, not taking his hand away from her ankle, thumb pressing right under the bone.

YN and Harry both get quiet, chests moving quickly from the struggles, and she’s never felt this much sexual tension before in her life.

Harry’s other fingers press in, she finds herself wishing that they would move upward, it would be easy because she didn’t have anything beside underwear on her lower half.

When YN lets her limbs relax, her leg falls more into his grip, toes bumping at his hip, and his hand moves further to his calf.

They both seem to snap out of it at the same time, Harry is letting go and clearing his throat as YN pulls her leg back.

He turns back to the pancakes, sliding them off pan and onto an awaiting plate.

Harry takes a minute before he’s turning around again, eyes the slightest bit unsure, and YN doesn’t want there to be any awkwardness.

To dissolve the tension, she swipes her thumb along her cheek before popping it in her mouth, “Could use more cinnamon sugar.”

“S’plenty sweet,” Harry grunts as he hands it to her.

“Thank you. You really didn’t have to but I haven’t had pancakes in forever,” YN doesn’t use her fork, picking it apart with her fingers and dipping it in the syrup.

Harry turns off the stove, placing the pan and mixing bowl in the sink, running some sudsy water in it as YN eats happily, her thigh no longer hurting - she thanks the chocolate chips for that.

“You’re starting to get sleepy again, huh?” Harry murmurs as YN hands him the empty plate, she nods in agreement, and she slips off the counter, tossing the frozen bag back in the freezer.

“Thank you,” YN mumbles, rubbing at her eye.

“Let me check your leg first,” Harry tells her, kneeling down in front of her, and holy shit, that was a sight for sore eyes to have him blinking up at her, “Yeah? Okay?”

“Okay,” YN’s mouth was dry like the sahara desert.

Harry lifts the hem of her shirt up to her hip, exposing her underwear a bit more than necessary but the thing is, she wanted him to see.

If Kay walked in right now, there would be no excuses, no justification that she would believe because of the heavy way they were both breathing and staring each other down.

“Fuckin’ hell,” Harry curses with a rasp, his fingertips pressing into her thigh, far enough from her injury that it doesn’t hurt.

YN thinks he’s referring to where she had bumped her leg but when she follows his gaze, it’s on her center where sure as shit there was a spot of her arousal.

Her eyes widen, embarrassed by his find, embarassed by how much she wants his mouth there - she’s never felt such a carnal craving like this before.

“I…” YN’s voice is breathy, high-pitched as she swallows down a whine of pure desire and deep, aching want.

She finds herself burying her fingers in his hair, it was partially to ground her, mostly to guide him towards where his eyes were set.

YN has never, repeat never, been so brazen in her life.

Her brain had shut off the part of her that had morals.

Harry is leaning in as she tugs at the roots of his hair, closer to her center where the want for him was tangible but he’s suddenly jolting back.

“We can’t. You know that, pet,” Harry sits back on his haunches, he scratches his jaw before pushing himself up off the floor.

He runs his hand through his hair, stress visible in his features as they tighten and the smile he gives YN was strained - his dimples didn’t pop.

“I’m sorry,” YN feels like a baby when her bottom lip starts to wobble, she should know better and it sucks how much she likes Harry.

“Don’t cry, s’my fault. Please don’t cry, darling,” Harry voice is hushed but soothing, he steps forward but YN takes a step back.

“I need to go back to my room, okay? We can act like none of this happened,” YN is a shit friend, but how would she even explain this to Kay?

YN doesn’t wait for a response, she’s turning on her heel, and booking it out of the kitchen - straight towards her bedroom to scream into her pillow.

++

YN tries to stay out of the house for a few days, going out with friends, taking an overtime shift at work, anything to avoid seeing Kay and Harry.

However, her luck runs out on day four when she’s comes home after her friend had to cancel plans due to a work thing and she had no choice but to head home.

Kay and Harry were on the couch, her feet were in his lap, and his hands were resting on her calves - there was no other cuddling and it looked rather platonic.

Neither of them look thrilled, but they at least give her a smile when she walks into the room.

While she’s in the kitchen, mixing ingredients for a salad together, she can hear their hushed voices, and it sounds tense once again.

Kay is speaking a bit louder, Harry has a bite in his tone that she has never heard but she couldn’t quite make out what they were talking about.

However, after another minute of their bickering, the front door shuts, and Kay is walking into the kitchen with an uneasy expression.

“I want to talk to you about something,” Kay starts as she sits on the countertop, her eyes only sporadically looking towards YN before darting away.

Oh shit, she knows.

She fucking knows.

YN is about to speak, to apologize, to grovel.

“This is really out of the blue. I don’t expect an answer from you right now or anything,” Kay is looking down at her hands, surprisingly vulnerable, “But I have a major favor.”

“You know I would do anything for you,” YN replies, putting down the mixing tongs and trying to regulate her irregular heartbeat from the spike in anxiety - this is where she gets caught, for what exactly, she doesn’t know but what happened a few nights ago in the kitchen wasn’t right.

“I…You’re bisexual, right?” Kay is visibly nervous, her fingers were trembling, and she was about to bite a hole through her upper lip, trapped between her teeth.

“Yes,” YN doesn’t know where this was going.

Kay knew this.

Kay had met girls YN had gone out with as well as guys.

“I…Fuck, just forget it,” Kay huffs out, acting like she’s about to slide off the counter to leave.

“You can tell me anything, come on,” YN reminds her, moving closer to rub her shoulder.

Kay looks at her hand on her shoulder, taking in a deep gulp before asking something that YN didn’t see coming from a million miles away.

“I want to try…being with a girl, you know? I just feel like there’s no spark sexually between Harry and I. I felt like there wasn’t one with a few of the last guys I dated too and I’m starting to think I’m the issue. Harry is gorgeous, sexy but I just…I don’t have a desire to jump in bed with him.”

That makes one of us, YN thinks.

“Kay…I’m not sure what you’re getting at,” YN pauses, she felt shaky now for a different reason.

“Will you…god, this is so fucking lame but I trust you. I want to hook up with you,” Kay blurts out finally, eyes wide and unsure, she was being vulnerable right now like she didn’t know how YN was going to respond.

YN swallows a gasp of surprise, of course it’s a surprise hearing that one of her best friends wants to sleep with her, to experiment.

“Is that what you and Harry were fighting about?” YN asks instead of giving her an answer, she needed more information before she said yes.

Kay was cute, attractive but wasn’t YN’s type.  It wouldn’t necessarily be a hardship to hook up with her but she can say that it has never crossed her mind that she would want that.

“Not really,” Kay shrugs mulishly, “We discussed it. He doesn’t think that it’s a good idea that it’s with you, you know? But I feel comfortable with you, I don’t want to go out and find a random girl to try it out with.”

YN flushes at the thought of her having this conversation with Harry, with Harry telling Kay that it wasn’t a good idea, “He wants you to go hook up with a random girl?”

“He supports whatever decision I make to try to figure myself out a bit more. He didn’t tell me I could or couldn’t do anything but he wants to be there,” Kay adds another bombshell, like this already wasn’t insane enough.

“What?” YN’s eyes were wide as saucers.

This had to be a prank.

This was not real life right now.

Kay laughs nervously, “I know it’s insane, okay? Harry and I aren’t the norm though. Not at this point, I don’t know what I want but I don’t want to break up with him. I’m being selfish and he for some reason or another loves me enough to see this through.”

The thought of Kay and Harry talking about love makes her stomach churn when she has no right to feel nauseous thinking about that.

“He suggested I find someone we could have a threesome with,” Kay was finally starting to make more consistent eye contact but YN doesn’t think she’s ever seen her this unsure of herself as she picks at her bottom lip.

“And he is okay with it being me?” YN clarifies, it’s not for the right reasons, she wants to know that Harry wants her just as much - it’s not right.

“Like I said, he thought it would be better if it was someone less close but I always really thought that you were attractive and…yeah,” Kay trails off before actually answering the question, “He said that if I ended up choosing you, that would be okay with him too. He didn’t care either way.”

YN feels like an asshole for feeling disheartened about it, that he wasn’t jumping on the chance to sleep with her without any strings attached, it made her feel a bit anger like he was leading her on but she was quite sure that she wasn’t imagining things.

“I’ll do it, yeah,” YN agrees with a wary smile, “Anything to help you out.”

“You’re the best,” Kay squeals, suddenly excited and all the nervousness that had seemed to have left her body as she jumps off the counter, and very unexpectedly steps into YN’s space, cupping her cheeks, and bringing her in for a kiss.

YN’s freezes for a moment, just taken aback by the action but Kay’s lips are soft, she doesn’t want to push her off and make her feel embarrassed, and it had been awhile since she had any intimacy so it wasn’t unwelcome.

Kay tasted like something sweet as she parts her lips, YN finds herself slipping her tongue into her mouth, and though the feeling isn’t nearly as fiery as it was when Harry just merely touched it, it still felt nice.

YN doesn’t know how long they stay like that, YN with her hips pushed back against the countertop, and Kay boxing her in, hands not wandering much, keeping one of the side of her neck, and the other on the curved space between her ribcage and hipbone.

Long enough that someone clears their throat and makes them jump apart.

Harry.

He was back, with a bag of groceries in his hand, and a downright scary expression on his face.

His eyebrows are knitted tightly together, a crease in the space that exists, his lip was twitching to hide the way he was grinding his molars together but the flex of his jaw gave away what his was doing as he loudly lets the bag spill onto the table.

It’s almost worse that he does not say anything or acknowledge it.

“I’m making eggplant parmigiana,” Is all the he says, without looking at either of them, and unloading this onto the countertop surface with a bit more force than necessary.

YN knew her lips were puffy, swollen from how into Kay had been.

It was…nice but YN wasn’t necessarily disappointed that they got interrupted either, she wasn’t dying to do anything further either.

Not like how she would have done just about anything to have a few more minutes with Harry that night.

YN questions whether any of this was true, whether Kay really did discuss it with Harry because by the way his shoulders were bunched up and his movements were sharp and almost agitated, it really didn’t seem like he was okay with sharing his girlfriend.

“I’m going to go out for a bit,” YN wasn’t planning on it but she really didn’t want to be in the middle of whatever conversation was about to happen.

“YN, no. You don’t have to,” Kay starts to assure her, glaring over at Harry like she wants him to change his attitude but he doesn’t look at either of them nor does he give any input as he starts to take items out of the bag.

“No, I had plans already,” She lies, quickly retreating from the kitchen and into her bedroom.

It’s no surprise when she hears their voices travel back towards her bedroom, they’re not yelling at each other but it’s definitely not a gentle, easygoing conversation if the way it echoes is anything to go by.

YN frantically texts a few friends, begging to see if anyone was willing to go to eat or get drinks because she wanted to try to be out of the house as late as possible tonight, hopefully not getting home until both of them were asleep.

++

YN is lucky enough that her friend, Mindy, invites her to tag along to a work outing that they were having to celebrate the startup company’s anniversary.

It was at a bar in the middle of the city where the drinks were comped and it was easy to let the liquor slip down her throat, again and again as she took advantage of the free alcohol to ease the mindfuck that had happened to her earlier.

Did Kay really suggest those things?

Did Kay really kiss her?

YN drank until those questions became a bit quieter and she became a lot more fuzzy.

++

YN was still happily buzzed when she was dropped off by the uber at her apartment building's doorstep, not drunk enough that she stumbled as she made her way in but not sober enough that she didn’t have to squint at the numbers on the elevator panel until they made sense.

YN was uncoordinated on a good day so any alcohol just made that amplified, it was a mission to try to riffle through her small clutch to find her housekeys - it was a tiny bag, where could they be?

She tries the doorhandle just to see if they had left it unlocked but they didn’t which makes her thump her head against the wood of the door as she blearly brings her clutch closer to her face to dig through, her lip gloss falling to the ground.

“Shit,” YN huffs as she leans down, hearing the click of the lock being turned and the door is opening.

YN stands up to see Harry at the door, a pissy expression on his face but he doesn’t look like he has been sleeping despite the late hour, it had to be past two in the morning by this point because she truly did lose track of time.

He doesn’t say anything but steps aside to let her in.

“You’re killin’ my buzz,” YN grumbles as she steps through the doorway, leaning down to attempt to unstrap her heels but then she actually does trip over her own feet like a baby deer learning how to walk on new legs.

“I’m terribly sorry,” Harry replies in the most morbid, monotone drawl - not one ounce of sincerity in his voice.

When she stumbles again, Harry grips her arm, “Enough. Sit down. I don’t need you getting injured for a third time for fucks sake.”

YN frowns, she doesn’t like how cold and distant he sounds but she does like the pressure of his hand on her body.

She easily obliges, sitting down on the entryway bench, and he kneels down in front of her.

YN’s heart rate spikes because it’s extremely reminiscent of that night.

“Kay kissed me,” YN blurts out, trying to keep her voice down, unsure of whether her friend was still awake but she highly doubted, she regrets the words as soon as they slip out, she didn’t mean to throw her friend under the bus but she didn’t want Harry to be mad at her.

Harry bites at the corner of his lip as he undoes the strap around the ankle of her right foot, slow and methodical, focused without looking up at her, “Did you want her to kiss you?”

YN is a bit taken aback by the sharpness of his tone.

When she doesn’t respond, he blinks up at her from under his lashes, his eyes were unfairly pretty under the yellowish light from the fluorescents of the lamp on the entryway table - green with nearly golden specks, flickering through and highlighted.

“Did you want her to kiss you?” Harry repeats, cold, distant, nothing like his norm.

YN doesn’t know how to reply.

Honesty is the best policy and the warm liquor that was running through her veins was helping the cause that would have normally been much harder for her to speak her mind. YN feels fat tears welling up in her eyes, the kind that sting, mixing her makeup into the saline that starts to make her blink furiously - using the heel of her palm to roughly swipe them away.

Harry slips off the first shoe, setting it neatly to the side before looking up at her again, waiting for the answer, “Tell me.”

Her bottom lip wobbles, it’s hard to maintain the intense eye contact that he was giving her as she shrugs, mulish and unsure, “It was unexpected.”

Harry seems to hesitate for a moment, “Did you enjoy kissing her?”

YN squeezes her eyes shut, hoping that Kay didn’t hear, hoping that he didn’t repeat this to Kay.

“It wasn’t bad,” YN skirts the question.

Harry puts his hand on her knee, gripping gently, “Talk to me. I know she threw a lot at you at once.”

“You don’t want me to be involved,” YN huffs, childishly enough like she was dealt an injustice.

Harry’s teeth grit like they did earlier, his fingertips pressing in slightly, “I never said that. I said it might not be the best idea because you two live together and are close. However, she clearly doesn’t take my advice, stemming from the fact that she calls you her ‘bisexual awakening’.”

YN raises her eyebrows at that, Kay hadn’t specifically said that, sure, she mentioned that she thought that YN was attractive but it had not been specifically mentioned that she had that much attraction towards her.

“What do you want?” YN’s nearly whispering now.

“It doesn’t matter what I want, it’s not about me,” Harry deflects, YN’s realizing that he’s really good at that.

“What did you think when you walked in and saw us?” 

“It’s not important. You agreed, right?” Harry clarifies, moving now to take off her other heel.

“I did,” YN swallows, blinking down at him, her heart felt like it was going to give out.

“You know why I don’t think it’s a good idea,” Harry meets her gaze again, intense and unwavering.

“You just said because we’re close,” YN repeats what he had just said.

“There’s a much bigger reason it’s not a good idea and you know that,” Harry face is serious, terse as he slips the strap from the small golden buckle. “Say it,” YN replies, unsure where the bravery came from, maybe she was just tired of him being constantly vague and noncommitall, “Tell me why then. Spell it out.”

Harry’s eyes become stormier, he places the heel next to it’s pair before sitting up further, until he suddenly moves.

His hand coming up to cup her neck, just like Kay ahd done but it was with more intention, not the timidness or hesistaation that her friend had, this was pure confiddence as he uses his grip to pull her face closer to his.

YN’s lips instantly part in a surprise, quiet gasp, and instinctually she parts her legs to give him room to situate hiself in between her, to get closer.

His lips are just about to touch hers but then he stops, “This is why it isn’t a good idea.”

Then he’s pulling back, standing up, and stalking back down the hall away from her without another word.

What the fuck.

++++*_

Thoughts?����

[mockerycrow]

Emergency Contact (1/2) (Ghost x GN!Reader)

>> emergency contact concept here << PART TWO HERE!!

Summary: Simon is your roommate, and you haven’t seen each other in months, considering Simon’s job. An unfamiliar number pops up on Simon’s phone, and answering it makes his world turn upside down.

A/N: How you two moved in together is very vaguely inspired this ghost fic right here. please give it a read! If you finish the song above, I highly recommend listening to the entire album while reading. i’m not the happiest with this, but i’m happy enough to post!

[WARNINGS: Blood and injury, traumatic events/trauma brought up, gore, little comfort, medical inaccuracies, tbh ooc simon but it’s ok.]

Eight months, thirteen days, and nine hours. That’s how long it’s been since he’s been home, since he’s seen you. That’s how long he’s been stuck on base, or thrown into a foreign country to complete some mission, or to gather some intel, or to kill someone, just somewhere, anywhere but with you.

Eight months, thirteen days, and nine hours. That’s how long it’s been since you softly asked him to stay as safe as he can, and to come back alive, and to come back with at least eight fingers. It was a running joke between you two, a way to relieve the terrifying reality of his job; as long as Simon came home alive and with majority of his fingers, he could consider it a job well done. You didn’t know much of his job, of course—only that he’s military, and he’s gone a lot. You already guessed it was a lot of classified stuff, probably down top secret government type of things. That did make you scared, though. You didn’t want the day to come, the day where people in fancy uniforms show up at your doorstep like you’re some widow. The thought of someone informing you of Simon’s death makes your stomach twist.

Eight months is admittedly a long time. Simon.. he missed you, but he’s rather die that verbally admit it, but he sure as hell felt it. He missed the way he could hear you walk through the house, the weight of the floorboards creaking up your feet. Simon missed walking by the bathroom and the air vaguely smelled your shampoo and body wash, a clear indicator you had just taken a shower. Simon missed the way you carelessly have your shoes next to the shoe rack, not even on it, and despite his annoyance of your laziness? He misses it every single time he’s away. He never really realizes the difference of living on base versus being home with you, and he’s comfortable in both environments for completely different reasons. Simon is comfortable with you because you’re safe, you aren’t associated with anyone he has to deal with on a near daily basis. You don’t scan the kitchen to see which household items could be potential bombs in the vicinity like he does. On base, Simon finds comfort in the familiarity of being constantly on alert, the need for a gun to be against his hip—it’s not the best, considering he’s in fight mode majority of the time, but it’s comforting. It’s familiar. It’s.. home, in a way.

You and Simon call at least once every three weeks—it’s not more because you’re both busy, you have your life to tend to while he has to do something like protecting an American Embassy, or sneaking into a compound to retrieve some vital information. You two talk about all kinds of things; you complain about the neighbors for the nth time, or you talk about your job, just something that he hasn’t heard about in a while. Simon.. he’s limited on what he can talk about—what he wants to talk about. It’s a bit difficult, keeping details of his job hidden away from you. He also keeps you hidden away from them; his team. Price vaguely is aware of your existence, but all he knows is your name and your phone number—someone to alert when he eventually would pass away.

It surprised Price when he requested access to his own file to make a change. Simon went for years without anyone in that section, leaving it blank—and then suddenly ‘[Name] [Last Name]’ is written down, along with your phone number. Simon doesn’t want to die somewhere and then you sit at home, dreading the fact that you haven’t received a call from him for over six months. Other than that, no one is aware of your existence and he wants to keep it that way. It keeps you safe, and he doesn’t want the one thing he has going in his life to be taken away from him—not like everything else has been.

No, you and Simon aren’t together. You just are the one constant he cannot allow to die. How you and Simon became close was rather funny, really—before you were roommates, you bumped into each other at the local stores, the bank, even several public spaces like parks and such. You didn’t see him too often and you weren’t aware on why, but you didn’t really wonder why either. By this point, you knew each other for a couple of months. He introduced himself as SR—not Ghost or Simon, but as SR. You didn’t bother to question it because this tall, bulky man seemed like he was trying keep himself as anonymous as possible. Without fail, you always saw him wear dark colored clothing that hid any identifiable markings—tattoos and scars, that kind of thing. He usually has his hood up with a black face mask covering his nose down, but you do know one thing—he has to have bright blonde hair. Why else would his beautiful eyelashes and eyebrows be that bright? It would catch your eye every time you’d see them. Sometimes you would see him with a beanie on and the mask, with his hood down. This wasn’t too often, as it exposed some scarring he has on the back of his neck, as well as his forehead. This also silently lead you to believe he has a tough past of some sort, which is confirmed when you run into him somewhere you never expected to—your therapist’s building. You bumped into him right outside, and you apologized profusely before looking and going silent as you made eye contact.

A silent agreement was made between you two that day, one that you could never put into words. Something in that moment that dragged you two closer together. You had been through some shit in your life, shit that had permanent effect on you, shit that you wanted to work through. It was horribly tiring, but you knew you needed to work through it—so you could live a life you felt was worth living. Simon, was on the other side of the spectrum. He didn’t want this. He never wanted to tell anyone about anything, but Price, Price fucking made him. Simon spends his days and nights plagued with nightmares and memories—he’s woken up in the middle of the night enough times to know that he needs help, but he was so adamant about not talking to anyone about it. But seeing you there? Someone who he hasn’t known for long, someone who had always greeted him with a smile on your face, laughter spilling from your beautiful vocal cords, and someone who doesn’t touch him without permission? It made him so angry and hopeless about this world. Not even you, a stranger who he sees as the best human being he’s known in a while—despite not knowing you for long—could escape from the cruel and sharp jaws of the world. You found out you two accidentally scheduled the same days, so it became an unspoken agreement to wait for the other outside of the building so you can both go in. Even when you weren’t sure when his next appointment would be, you’d be right outside of that building, waiting for him. You would always be right there, and that’s something he quickly learned.

You lost your house to a fire, everything went with the burning embers that raged inside of the 4 walls of your previous home, the structure collapsing in on itself. You had gotten out in time, and you numbly watched the fire roar, the crackling burning it’s memory in your ears. The piercing sound of different sirens were approaching, but all you could do is stand there with your phone in your hand, watching the home you worked so hard for burn to the foundation built years ago. You felt a hand on your shoulder, but you didn’t bother to turn to see who it was. Everything was going so slow, almost like a movie scene in the worst way possible. Your nostrils burned from the smell of burning wood, drywall, and installation. The hand squeezed your shoulder and you slowly looked at who it was—and was him. Simon. His eyebrows were furrowed, eyes ever so slightly panicked and it was obvious he was asking you something, but you didn’t hear him. All you could focus on was that he was here. You blinked rapidly as your eyes began to burn from the smoke and from that choked feeling going from your chest to your throat. “I..” You croak ever so slightly. You couldn’t hold it back—you quickly grabbed onto Simon desperately, letting out a heart-wrenching sob because you just lost everything you owned, every memory, every piece of furniture, everything.. but he was here. He was the only thing was wasn’t crumbling away from your grasp, the only constant. Once you clung to him, Simon’s senses were flooded with you. Fuck, your touch burned, just like everyone’s else’s but he liked—no, loved how it felt. Despite the image of a burning house in his wake making dread bubble in his gut, your sobs and touch were the only thing he could focus on. Simon hesitates for only a second before pulling you into his personal space, his arms wrapping around you and weighing heavily on your body. Neither of you spoke, he just let you scream into his chest and sob, your fists gently banging against his chest—the anger, the sadness, everything was too much. Simon knew exactly how you were feeling, so he didn’t mind the twinges of pain your hands produced. Simon was the one who helped you while you chatted with the paramedics and the police. He was the one who helped you find your words when you had none left to share, the smell of the smoke imprinted on your clothes.

Without question, Simon took you to his house. He did not have another bed set up, so he had you sleep in his room while he slept on his couch. He hated the hollow look your eyes held, the way you were delayed with your answers, the ways your hands shook. Your everlasting smile had dissipated into a wobbly frown and he.. Simon couldn’t handle it. He grabbed you some of his clothes and helped you into his bathroom, quietly telling you to take a shower. He’ll take care of your clothes. Simon left you alone, and you showered for a long time. He didn’t count, but it was over an hour and a half. Simon didn’t say anything about you possibly racking up his bill, how could he when you had just lost everything? He wanted to.. to help you, and he wasn’t sure why. Even when he found himself scrubbing your smoke and tar covered clothes in his kitchen sink, he couldn’t find an exact reason why he wanted to help you. Maybe it’s because you made him feel human when he needed to be, maybe you were the one thing that kept him coming back to this town, the one thing that kept him from completely pulling away from the civilian world. You had found him in a corner like a dog, lips curled back and snarling—sharp teeth clashing together, and without a word, you gave him reasons to trust you. Although they may not be.. normal reasons to the regular eye, but they were enough for Simon.

You’re enough for Simon. He scrubbed your clothes until his arms burned, and then some.

That’s when he found out that you too, were also someone who could not stay asleep for long. When Simon awoke with his adrenaline pumping from the muffled sound of vomiting, he had to calm himself down because he’s safe, and you’re safe, most of all. Simon isn’t sure when he began to think that way, but it’s one of the many things he’s decided to not question—which also new for him. Simon is man who demands answers, yet with you? it’s like everything naturally falls into place, which is why he doesn’t complain when your stay at his house—which you swore would only be until you gathered enough money for an apartment—turned from a two week stay, to Simon carrying in an IKEA bed frame to put and assemble in one of his empty rooms. Many sleepless nights came and went, and each and every one you spent them with each other, sitting by a windowsill together, other times spending it in the backyard and looking at the sky. Sometimes you would wake up first, sometimes it would be him. You somehow always knew when he had woken up from a nightmare, his heart pounding in his ears—until your hands grab his and squeeze, to ground him. You burn him, and he welcomes the tickle of your ever-glowing flame. A year into this arrangement, Simon finally shows you his face and he appreciates that you don’t look at him any different. He usually hates the searching eyes, trying to memorize every inch of his face—but he’s greedy when you do it. When your eyes roam over every scar and acne scar, when you point out his messily cut hair and half-assed shaven stubble, he doesnt get angry. Simon doesn’t feel suffocated by your glances. He doesn’t wear his mask at home anymore, not when you’re there.

Then Simon gets the notice about his three month leave ending soon; and he knows that you need to know about his job. Or at least, the bare minimum you need to know. In reality, it’s how much he wants you to know, but he doesn’t want to admit that. He sits you down one morning, a cup of tea in his hand and he had a mug of your favorite morning drink on the other side of the table he had bought a few weeks you started staying here. Simon explains that he has a job in the military, that he can’t tell you much, but it means he’s going to be gone for weeks, even months at a time. You’re at a loss at first, because who is going to have an extremely positive reaction to “by the way, I work an extremely dangerous job and I can’t tell you anything and I’ll be gone for a while.. Oh yeah, you likely won’t know if I die!”? Despite your initial reaction, you grow to be okay with this situation. Or, we’ll, as okay as you can be with it. You also find out that he was here for way longer than he originally is, due to his boss demanding him to take a break—AKA, “go to therapy you dafty”.

For a little over two years, you two fell into a good rhythm. A call every three weeks, him coming home and you becoming the safest space he’s ever had in his life.

Which is why when his personal cell phone begins to vibrate in his pocket during some fuck-all meeting, his eyebrows furrow. The number is unfamiliar, but the area code is not. Simon quietly excuses himself from the extended round table, taking his call outside of the meeting room. Price’s eyes follow his figure as he exits, noticing it’s his personal cell phone in his hand. Simon answers the call and presses his phone against his masked ear, muttering a low, “Hello?”

A high-pitched, soft yet serious voice filters through the speaker, a woman. “Hi, is this Mr. Riley?”

Simon pauses, and so does his heart. “Who’s asking?”

He honestly regrets asking that in the moment—one part of him genuinely wishes he never answered this call, and the other part of him is glad he did. “I’m a nurse from Northern Manchester Community Hospital, you’re written down as [Name]’s emergency contact. They’ve been a victim of a hit and run situation, sir. They’re alive, but they’re in the ICU.” The nausea that suddenly bubbles inside of his guys, the stomach acid mixed with whatever he had eaten previously, threatening to travel up his esophagus, burn every inch and then exit with a horrific sound. Simon’s head began to spin—he’s your emergency contact? A hit and run, you were fucking hit?? By what, a car? A pick-up? A semi? God, Simon has seen the most horrible, gruesome, fucked up shit you would ever see in his entire life, yet he isn’t sure if he can handle the image of you spread out in a hospital bed, with one too many tubes circulating around you. His mind plagues him with intrusive images, ones he never wants to actually see played out. Fuck, his head hurts. It feels like someone is physically shoving a knife into his chest and twisting it, like God is laughing at him and playing with Simon’s pain for his own gain. How could he not think that, especially with everything that has happened to him? His friends, his family? His old CO? The fucking abuse he endured??

It’s like Simon lost his hearing for a moment, because he cannot bare fucking losing you, too. There’s a vague ringing in his ears, almost like there was an explosion and he stood too close. And then suddenly every sound comes rushing back to his eardrums, and everything suddenly everything is so fucking overwhelming. “Mr. Riley?” The nurse calls over the phone, her tone laced with worry. He clears his throat and when he speaks, he sounds wrecked, which he fucking hates. “I.. I’ll come as soon as I can.” Simon hangs up, not giving the nurse a moment to speak. He drops his phone and if he doesn’t sit down, he’s going to fall over like a tree that’s been cut down. Simon lets out a shaky breath, trying to ignore the way his stomach is screaming and twisting as he puts a hand on the wall, and he crouches down. It’s the first time he doesn’t look around to see if anyone is watching his sudden display of emotion. When he’s suddenly rocked with the feeling of home at work, especially with the news that you’re fucking injured—he’s overwhelmed and twisted all over the place. Simon finds himself stumbling back to his barracks.

Price finds his way to him after Simon never returns to the meeting. He knocks on the door, but his knuckles pause before they can knock against the door for the third time as he discovers the door is open—which is very, very, odd. He slowly opens the door while calling for Ghost, and is met with the sight of Simon shoving some of his clothes and belongings into a duffle bag, as well as his military travel documents. “Ghost?” Price questions, who stopped in his doorway to watch Simon lose his mind while packing. Simon doesn’t respond as he practically rips his phone charger out of the wall and stuffs it into the bag, zipping it up. He slings it over his shoulder and he turns around, pausing when he sees Price. Simon’s eyes tell everything he’s feeling—that something’s happened, something bad, and he needs to leave. Price bites his lip and quietly exhales, his fingers rubbing at his chin. “I’ll approve your leave. Just shoot me a text of how long it needs to be, yeah?”

Simon makes sure to note to send Price a thank you of some sort, because within the next two hours, Simon is boarding a plane, heading for Manchester, wearing some black clothing, a jacket, a black face mask, gloves, and his beanie. The entire time, he could not stop thinking about you—and how you could possibly die before he got there to send off his final goodbyes. Is that something he would actually want to do, though? See you in the hospital, knowing it’ll be the last place you’d ever be alive in? Go home, see how you left the house exactly as you left it? A house, but without his home in it? Simon stares out the airplane window blankly, his hands curled into fists, and his nails would be digging into his palms if he didn’t have gloves on.

He couldn’t lose you. Not like this.

The next part for Simon, it’s a blur again. Got off the plane, got his luggage, provided documentation, blah blah blah—he didn’t give a fuck about any of it. His focus was you. He didn’t bother to stop home to drop his stuff off, he took an Uber straight to the hospital from the airport. It was a fairly expensive Uber too, but he could worry about the costs of everything later. It took another half hour to get there.

His heart began to hammer in his chest as the sight of the hospital’s signs began to pop up on the road, the anxiety taking hold in his stomach and his head begins to hurt again. Simon quietly thanks the driver, tips them, and exits the car with a swiftness once they pull up. Simon walks through the main entrance’s sliding doors, going up to the desk. A woman behind the counter hangs up the phone, murmuring a goodbye, and then she looks at Simon with her pretty blue eyes. “How can I help you, sir?” She murmurs sweetly, noting how anxious he is. She can see the sweat on his brow line. Simon clears his throat, his voice rumbling in his chest when he speaks. It takes everything in him to not yell at this innocent woman and get thrown out. “My.. My name is Mr. Riley, I was called ‘cause my friend is here,” Simon manages to push out. “[Name] [Last Name].” The woman turns to her computer and clicks the couple of buttons and types a couple of words and holy fuck, Simon just wants to go to your wing already—“Ah, yes, I see you’re listed as their emergency contact,” The woman grabs a sticky note and writes with a pink pen your room number and elevator floor, handing it to Simon. He barely gets a “thank you” out before he nearly jogs to the nearby elevator. Fourth floor, room 283. Fourth floor, room 283. Fourth floor, room 283—it’s the longest minute long elevator ride in his entire fucking life.

Simon changes face masks whilst facing the wall, and then he finds your room number—and his heart is beating out of his chest. There’s cops standing outside of your room who stop him from entering. Simon’s anger flares up so quickly, he nearly makes a scene until a doctor exits your room. She’s wearing her usual blue scrubs, her coat, and she’s dawning a N95 and some sterile gloves. She’s holding a clipboard. “Mr. Riley?” She questions, holding the clipboard close to her chest. Simon nods without hesitation, and she responds, “I’m sorry, but due to the nature of this case, you’ll have to provide some identification for me and these officers.”

Usually, Simon would hesitate—he gives anyone outside of his team the bare minimum, hell, he only introduced himself as SR until he knew you for a while. This time, he takes out his military ID and shows it to the officers. He ignores their looks of surprise, and ignores the murmurs that come from them. Simon puts his ID away and he holds back the urge to shove them out of the way as he glares down at the doctor on accident. “Come in,” The doctor opens the sliding door and steps into the hospital ICU room with him. Simon follows behind her and he immediately smells the sickening smell only the ICU gives off. There’s a small wall blocking his view from you that he hasn’t past, and he can already hear the machines working. A heart monitor, a ventilator, combined with other machines he doesn’t know too well. The doctor flips through the papers pinned to her clipboard. “They were hit by a vehicle of some sort, the scene suggested they were walking home from the local corner store. [Name] has multiple broken bones and fractures, a punctured lung, a fractured jaw and internal bleeding. They lost a lot of blood at the scene.” Simon doesn’t respond as he slowly walks forward, and he finally lays his eyes on you. It’s.. traumatizing, to say the least. You were never supposed to be in a hospital bed like this, hooked up to machines he can’t even name. He slowly walks over to you, dropping his duffel bag somewhere on the floor. He doesn’t care to look where. Simon barely pays attention to what the doctor is saying—his hands tremble as he stands by your side, his heart thumping harshly in his chest. Fuck.

He drags over one of the chairs next to your bed. Simon takes off one of his gloves slowly, and then he tears the other one off in a frenzy. He feels so unlike himself, so.. different.. human. He reaches over to your hand and his fingers grab your wrist, so gentle as if you’re glass. Simon presses his fingers against your pulse point, counting your heartbeats despite the monitor. The thumping under your skin makes it more.. real. Feeling you, your heartbeat, your warmth and your skin—it’s comforting. Simon clears his throat and fights the urge to vomit once a gain, watching your chest rise and fall, produced by the ventilator.

He moves his hand to intertwine with your fingers and he uses his other hand to feel your pulse. Simon closes his eyes, muttering the beats per minute under his breath.

At least you’re alive—you’re here, you’re alive, and you’re with him. And that’s all he asks for.

tags;; @alwaystired--neversleeping @handsomeunderwear-art @indefenseofkara @kaysav608 @1-is-loneliest-number @rosee-sensuelle @kitty-satan1 @k4marina @rahmown @royalty-purple @bowtruckleninja — if you are not tagged, it’s not allowing me :-)

[hollow-forest-creations]

Grocery Bag Tail Tutorial!

Buckle up, this is a long one lol! Also please mind any typo's. We're very dyslexic.

(Note: While I feel this craft can be relatively straight forward and repetitive once you get in the rhythm, still be prepared for this to take a several hours to complete)

Step 1:

thread a long piece of thread on a needle to roughly the length you want your tail to be. (A little bit of extra length is always good. This can be trimmed later.)

Step 2:

Measure out a 5"x5" (127mm x 127mm) square template out of paper, (This will roughly end up being the width the tail is around.) then fold it in half.

Step 3:

Cut the bag into a rectangle shape, preferably not including the label for a solid color. (Or leave it, that's up to you!) (Also, I like to save the access trims from the bag for other projects)

(Hint: If you paint a light wash of acrylic paint on the bag at this step you can change the color of the tail ;3 )

Step 4:

Fold the rectangle once vertically, and once horizontally.

Step 5:

Cut along 3 of the folded sides but NOT the side where they are all attached! (This is so it remains one solid piece) Fold It back out and it should have cleaner edges. (Once again I like to keep the trimmings for use in other projects.)

Step 6:

Fold the rectangle towards you and roughly to the size of the folded paper template (see step 2) Trim three edges; the one closest you you, and the side edges. NOT the top!

Step 7:

Hold the bag in the middle of the non-cut side and cut strips into the CUT sides of the bag. (it should end up looking like the second picture)

Congrats! You're over half way! Keep it up, you got this!

Step 8:

GENTLY pull each piece apart and lay them out. if done correctly up to this point, they should look like the image above. Repeat steps 3-8 until you have a decent amount of these. (You should make around 10-15 of these before moving on to the next step.)

Step 9:

Pile each of the squares on top of each other, then thread them through the center once one way and then back close to the center a second time. Make sure to leave some extra thread. (See the second image.) (Don't string it back through the same hole or it wont hold.)

Step 10:

Tie a double knot with the end of the thread and the other part of the thread still attached to the needle.

Step 11:

Trim the access from the side not attached to the needle. (Do NOT cut the thread attached to the needle! (It should look roughly like the second image.)

Step 12:

Tie a piece of string to the thread and double knot it. Trim extra. (this will help bulk it uses so you wont need to make nearly as many squares.)

One more step!

Step 13:

Slide the knot down to the the end where the bags are, then string another square.

Continue this process of alternating tying a knot of string and adding a plastic square until you are satisfied with the length! Simply tie it off at the end when you're done! (trimming at the end for shaping the tail can help too)

-

If anyone makes this and wants to post it, please tag us! we'd love to see! This method can most likely be used with other materials as well so get creative!

Also:

-Let us know if anyone finds a way to improve on how to make these more efficiently.

-If anyone has any questions about the tutorial, please let us know in the comments, and we'll try my best to answer. -Max

[rongzhi]

How it works

➣ You submit proof of a monetary donation to a Gaza aid charity or a Go Fund Me campaign in aid of persons in Gaza ➣ I translate a video from Mandarin Chinese to English for you and post it on this blog!

What you can request

Videos up to 5 minutes in length**, sourced from Douyin, Tiktok, Bilibili, or Instagram.

I would prefer to translate videos that are directly uploaded by the creator (not reposts to other sites), but I know there are a lot of reposts to other platforms that may be more accessible. I will try my best to track down the original video if so.

**I will not translate a video that contains offensive content (racism/colorism, xenophobia, homophobia, sexism, ableism, etc). If you submit a video for translation which contains something of this nature, I will reach out to you to let you know the request has been rejected. You will be able to submit another video request of the same length.

What to Submit

Photo proof of a donation corresponding to the exchange rate (see below). You may black out the Donor Name on your receipt. The date of the receipt must be at least November 2, 2024. I will not accept past receipts.

A working link to the campaign or charity you donated to, so I can share it under the video as well.

A working link to the video you would like translated.

Let me know if you DON'T want to be @‘ed in the caption. By default, I will write “Translation request for @…”

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The Sameer Project

@/helpgazachildren (https://gofund.me/38650f5e)

Donate eSIMs (https://connecting-humanity.org/, https://chuffed.org/pay/campaign/105356, or others)

You can just submit RECEIPTS for any of the above. Remember to crop out or black out any personal info such as your name or any card/account info.

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Video length … Minimum Donation

➣ 0 - 1:00 … $5 USD ➣ 1:01 - 1:30 … $10 ➣ 1:31 - 2:00 … $15 ➣ 2:01- 2:30 … $20 ➣ 2:31 - 3:00 … $25 ➣ 3:01 - 3:30 … $30 ➣ 3:31 - 4:00 … $40 ➣ 4:01 - 4:30 … $50 ➣ 4:31 - 5:00 … $60

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This event will be ongoing for the time being. Please understand if there is a longer turnaround, but I will definitely aim to translate requests within a week.

[violetwolfraven]

Wait wait wait remember that post about how Team Starkid/the Lang brothers are going to be comparable to Shakespeare 500 years from now and it was mostly played for laughs like yeah lol you’ll need a paragraph of footnotes to explain the zefron poster but like

I don’t think that’s actually far off from how Starkid’s place in theatre history might play out and here’s why. Just hear me out

Why is Shakespeare so popular today when he definitely wasn’t the only playwright from that era? When he’s not even the only playwright from that era from England that we have surviving works from?

Two main reasons:

1) Shakespeare’s work is (relatively) universally relatable. The characters do things that are so fundamentally human. They make jokes at their friends’ expense. They complain about being awkward in front of their crush. They have daddy issues. The plot lines of the plays aren’t too complicated. The dick jokes land whether you’re watching in 1611 or 2024, and they probably still will in 2637. Shakespeare’s works are timeless because he didn’t try to outsmart his audience. He wrote about things everyone could relate to rather than trying too hard to peacock his intellect in front of the nobility. This is not true of every playwright.

2) Shakespeare was really popular right around the time England started colonizing everything in sight. Copies of his work got shipped all around the world, translated into dozens of languages, performed probably thousands of times. Setting aside the moral implications of this, the important thing to note is that Shakespeare was about the most easily accessible English playwright during a time of rapid, intense globalization.

Meanwhile, Starkid:

1) Invests hard in meaningful, relatable character arcs instead of spectacle and expensive sets or costumes. Also, lowbrow, immature humor and dick jokes that make A Very Potter Sequel funny and enjoyable regardless of if you’ve ever seen any other Harry Potter media in your life.

2) Posts professional recordings of their musicals to YouTube FOR FREE, making their shows about the easiest, best quality musical theatre you can get pretty much anywhere in the world, regardless of if your area has an active theatre scene. Proshots from other companies are rare and usually not free. Bootlegs are all well and good, but even if the video quality is alright (and that’s a big if) the audio is usually garbage. Starkid has been posting the best quality free recordings they can afford since 2009, shortly after the birth of social media, another time of rapid, intense globalization.

In short, I’m not saying that theatre historians in 500 years won’t remember any our current Broadway faves, but I am saying that in my opinion, Team Starkid is probably going to be more accessible for the general public. If you’re a 26th century English teacher trying to teach your class about narrative structure in 21st century theatre, what are you going to show your students? A bootleg of Hadestown with blurry video and garbage audio? Or the professional recording of Twisted, parts of which they will probably even enjoy, because even long after no one remembers Disney’s Aladdin anymore, your class of 26th century 16-year-olds are still going to laugh at “No One Remembers Achmed.”

[honey-tongued-devil]

↠The last drop tour

| Part 1 | | Part 2 | | Part 3 |

Alright, alright, I know I’ve already shown you the Last Drop, so here we’re looking at the one from the alternate timeline, as seen in Episode 7. The elements and layout don’t change too much, but there are variations, and since my story is set in this universe, I imagine this version is the most helpful for anyone wanting to explore the universe I write about. The link to the story is HERE, but I hope this can also be useful for anyone writing or reading their own work.

Here we are once again! This tour might be a bit challenging, but don’t worry—your guide has got you covered! This time, we need to start outside.

I know we all recognize the exterior of the bar, which hasn’t changed, but I ask you to take a closer look at the streets. They’re clean and bathed in sunlight. (The Last Drop is in the Entresol, the middle level of Zaun’s three depth levels.) While it may seem almost normal or expected, the smog that used to accumulate made it impossible for light to filter through the thick air, even during the day. As a result, the underground city never got to see this much light. This is the first time.

In Heimerdinger’s sequence where he’s seen playing "Spin the Wheel," we can catch glimpses of glass greenhouses protecting plants, and people in wheelchairs, hinting that the city is now more accessible.

This is the third post where I’ve mentioned this damn ceiling, so I went back just to show it to you, because it was necessary at this point. Let’s start with the fact that the Last Drop has been renovated. The fact that Ekko is wearing a gold earring and is so well-dressed suggests that their profits have increased, and the first thing they did was fix up the place. But enough talk—let’s get to the proof. Now that natural light reaches Zaun, the LED lights on the ceiling aren’t needed anymore. What is needed? Glass, to let the light in.

And so, we move on to another small but significant difference. Scattered throughout the Last Drop, but especially at the bar counter, there are terrariums with plants. Claggor and Mylo are even working on plants capable of converting the dense air of the Sump into clean oxygen. But why do plants have such prominence here? In Season 1, we’re shown that in Zaun, only one place had plants: the Chembarons' meeting room. It was so high up and so clean, thanks to the ventilation on the ceiling, that plants were a privilege of the oligarchy, not something for everyone. But here, even ordinary people in Zaun have plants around, and they thrive.

The bar counter remains the same, the barrels behind Vander are still protected by the same glass partitions as always. The difference now is that everything is adorned with what used to be a symbol of luxury.

Did you recognize these booths? Now, instead of the Chembarons' photos, there are sheets with dart game scores written on them—both for the kids and the three older men. To be honest, the one I’m showing you in the photo from Zaun’s original timeline is actually the first booth on the left from the entrance. Meanwhile, the one shown where the kids are sitting is the second booth, a bit closer to both the bar counter and the narrow hallway that leads to the arcade area and the pool table.

Which ones? These. Actually... this photo was taken in front of the first booth, and we can see Powder's drawings hanging there. Basically, we understand that they’re portraits of all of them together, happy. Maybe some are solo portraits, but they’re definitely very different from how things are now. (the comparison)

I imagine that the basement where Vander and his children used to live is now the place where they store alcohol and reserve drinks, or maybe it has become a boiler room. We don’t have photos of the lower area (which, I remind you, can be accessed by taking the door to the right of the bar counter and going down a long staircase) nor of the upper area, which is reached by climbing the stairs to the left. So, I can’t show you more parts of our beloved bar, but I can tell you that according to what we’re told in episode 7, they now offer both live music and events. So, the Last Drop has continued both Vander’s family-oriented, rustic management and Silco’s vision of a nightlife hub and heart of the city.

As for the rest—how we got to this point, what brought the change, how Silco's eye healed, how they managed to reach such an economic development to renovate the bar in that way—I can only speculate. But, I won’t do that here.

The theme of the universe’s development from episode 7, starting with Vi’s death, is what I talk about in my fanfiction. So, I’ll take a moment to advertise myself during this tour and let you know that if, in addition to the objective facts, you'd like to hear my opinion, I address it HERE (Everytime it rains).

From these three tours, I think you've gathered that I’m someone who pays a lot of attention to details, which is why a superficial analysis of the differences wasn't enough for me. I needed a bigger space to narrate (and analyze) the politics and the domino effect of events. So, I don't know, I hope to see you again at the bar.

Sincerely, your guide, provided by...

-Kiramman's chronocare

[scam-alerts]

❗❗Scam Update❗❗

Previously on... 🔎Scam Exam(ination)🔍

Seen as: I would like a commission of my son/pet... Scam Type: Commission Scam

Please read this post for a complete rundown of this scam.

While browsing #scams on tumblr earlier today, I saw a post from the wonderful and very talented @louksna-0 where they were calling out a scam account that seemed to be running the art commission scam.

After messaging them.. I found out something... interesting.

The scammers are now changing their script.

@louksna-0 was kind enough to answer some questions and help explain their interactions with this scammer with me, and even provided me with some screenshots which I'll show you all as well.

----------

Part 1 - How it start(s/ed)

Note: @louksna-0 has told me that due to being blocked, they cannot access their conversation with this scammer, but they were kind enough to detail their conversation with me to the best of their ability. :)

@scam-alerts: When this person messaged you for a commission, what did they ask you to draw? What was your response, and what sort of images did they provide?

@louksna-0: They asked me to draw two cartoon portraits of a girl with blue eyes and blonde hair, it was 2 photos, but the second seemed to be taken from a video, not a photo itself. I told her alright, the two were separate drawings, one for $18, the other $20. $38 in the end. She started pressuring me for the details of the commission to get the process finished, being cold and even rude.

@scam-alerts: Did you tell them a price first, or did they offer you money first? Was this amount higher than normal, or was it the price of your commissions?

@louksna-0: I told them the price first, they didn't offer a price to pay. They were pressuring me to tell them the final price.

@louksna-0: I say them because although the profile seems like a girl. Her account of PayPal, email confirmation and Tumblr were all different. So I can't really say their gender. Her profile said Elizabeth, her email said mayes Mary, and her PayPal account said Margaret castro.

These were the screenshots provided to me:

image 1 - The scammer getting very persistent in having @louksna-0 check their spam email for confirmation that the money was sent.

image 2 - The different names that appear on the PayPal, blog, and email (in that order.)

Image 3 - A screenshot of the fake email. (the same exact one that can be seen in the previous scam exam(ination) report.

Image 4 - This one is.. odd. @louksna-0 says that this was sent to them by the same email with a request telling them to send a refund, yet it has a very odd and fishy looking link. (they did not click on it.)

----------

Part 2 - Examining the Evidence

From what it looks like, the scam is pretty much the same 'I want you to draw my <thing>' scam except now they've switched from:

can you draw my son / daughter / pet. to can you draw this cartoon character*

*They might look at blogs now and see what an artists 'style' is to get a grasp on what an artist can do before trying to run this scam? Since not all artists can draw kids and/or pets? So that might be worth keeping an eye on.

They've also switched from:

Offering you a very large amount of money. to accepting commission prices to seem unsuspicious.

----------

Part 3 - What you should do now

🚩Red flags still present🚩

Blogs sending these asks are either blank or bare in one way in another. Little to no reblogs, maybe 'one' picture or two posted. In this case the scammer just had a picture of a dog that probably isn't even theirs.

They will refuse to pay with any other method than PayPal.

The purpose of asking for your real name and your PayPal email is just so they can make a fake email to scam you.

Stop. Read the email very carefully. Think about what it's asking you.

'you are to send (name) money to expand your account.' You are to send someone money, to get money.

You can't just 'expand' your account by sending another user money. That's not how PayPal works.

Emails from these scammers will always show up in your spam folder because they are not from the real PayPal service. They are 100% fake. Only trust emails about PayPal from a @paypal.com email address. Any email claiming to be from PayPal ending in a gmail/hotmail/yahoo.com address is. a. scam.

Always check your PayPal account via the website or App for issues before responding to someone and certainly before sending anyone money. If you see no issues, there are no issues.

Never click links in an email you get during or after interacting with a stranger when money is involved. If someone asks: 'did you get the email?' Check your spam folder.' Make sure you click the link to fix your account.' It's a scam. And they're probably trying to hack you.

----------

Final thoughts:

Remember, take screenshots and report these users to the websites they are running these scams on. If they DM you on tumblr? Report the DM. If they do it on insta, bsky, twitter or even discord?

Make sure you report them there too.

ALSO: Beware of recovery scammers. This is anyone coming into your DM's telling you they can 'help you get your money back' after you made a post talking about how you got scammed. These scammers are just looking for a quick buck.

I've got a whole post right here talking about what one looks like.

Take care and stay vigilant.

And thanks again to @louksna-0 for being a dear. <3

Other helpful guides on spotting scams. (by @kyra45)

[easy-there-leftovers]

I See You, Darling (2)

[Astarion x reader] Due to surprisingly overwhelming demand, the previous fic, along with this one and many more to follow, will now be part of a series!! It was honestly very difficult trying to come up with what happens next, but here we are. The idea came to me during a fever!! |Word count: 2.5k.| Based off of this post I made.

Part 1 here!!

Next part here!!

The reader believes they are in a dream. It wouldn’t be the first time their fantasies conjured up such an obscure, yet somehow realistic scene. And so they’ve elected to treat the experience with as much realism as one would observe in a dream; little to none.

Alternatively;An ex-art-student-now-traveler accustoms themselves to the party.

————━─━────༺༻────━─━————

“Shadowheart. Shadow…heart. Hm.” His gaze bounced between you and her. 

“I’m sure her parents meant well, but the name is rather ominous, isn’t it?” He leaned over to your side, not bothering to hide his blatant distrust. Lowering his voice dramatically, if anything.

“Unless she chose it herself. Which is even more worrying, honestly.” He chuckled out.

It had been no more than two bells after mornbright when you met Astarion. Since then, you’ve come to realize how…different your presence has changed the course of the story. Though more subtle than you expected.

It would seem as if you had met the elven vampire before the party was formed, which was strange as your last save point was far later than that and the forest had been quite a long way from the beach.

When you finally stumbled upon Shadowheart, he was quick to share his inner thoughts that you haven’t heard from the game before. 

As they continued with their quest to find a cure for the Illithid problem, expanding their party as they did so, you had tried to make yourself useful by doing the dirty work for them. Looting and opening crates filled with camp supplies, armor, and potentially useful weapons and artifacts could always come in handy for trade or for “artifact consumption,” as per Gale’s need. Sorting them for your group’s convenience.

And while you did not have more direct and immediate practical use for your course of study in the modern world, the research you’ve created and reviewed for character creation and world building was doing wonders for your survival.

Or as much as it can for a magicless, not so athletic human. 

The “runes” of the medieval ages that have been carved into stone, along with the basic history and background of the common races and deities of the fantastical world that tabletop RPG has offered puts you at quite an advantage.

Not to mention your experience with the areas of the game giving you the same effect.

But this library of information had also aroused something akin to suspicion and concern. It would be understandable if you were a simple traveler just like them, or perhaps even an artisan from the guild, but you were not as astute as either background.

So how could you have access to this much knowledge yet be unaware of more practical matters? It’s as if you had simply read about it from somewhere. 

Astarion had been quick to give an explanation before you could form one of your own that could poorly convince your companions. Although, perhaps his suggestion was more outlandish than anything you could have come up with.

“They came with me. Property and all the formality that comes with it. A family pet, if you will.” A perfect excuse to justify your constant proximity to him, and a likely explanation to being well read, but not well experienced.

You thought nothing of the title, your apathy to the non-hazardous labels of this world apparent.

The same couldn’t have been said about your associates who had a few comments about this disclosure.

“I am unfamiliar with the–well, I shall not say ‘culture.’ ‘Customs’, perhaps. I did not think your kind to house such breed of cattle. Perhaps they could be useful.” Was Lae’zel’s. 

“I assure you, they typically don’t. Humans aren’t naturally subservient to Elves, at least in this manner. This setup sounds more akin to slavery. Blink twice if you need help.” Was Gale’s response. 

“It seems like Astarion's from the upper city, given the embroidery on his armor. I wouldn’t put it past them to have servants that follow them around.” Shadowheart’s nose crinkled at the thought. 

The party already had such an interesting rapport. Not entirely comfortable with one another to divulge everything, but loose enough to have semi-pleasant conversation with.

You thought this as you sorted out the fruits of your collective labor into neat pouches and bags, keeping items similar to one another factioned into their respective holding space. The chest being closer to Withers more than you’d like, but it was nice to hear the ramblings of an…undead person? Hearing someone continuously talking allows you to be more productive.

You’ll admit, handling enchanted armor and crystals does make you a tad nervous but you’re comforted by the thought that it will not be you who wields it in battle.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Gale approaching your direction. Possibly to ask for his share of the camp supplies just a little earlier to sate himself as you had an abundance of it for now. You regard him with your back turned and he stops for a bit.

“I will say that I don’t have the lightest of feet, but I figured myself better at sneaking around.” It’s not his fault that he got caught, but the bright purple robe and the smell of the oils you’ve been crafting for them are particularly noticeable.

“You are, but I’ll assume you're not exactly in the best shape after dealing with a few goblins.” You hold up a bottle of a healing potion, swinging it a bit with your fingers to indicate that the smell had warned you of his arrival.

“You’ve got a keen nose on you. Must be from all of Astarion’s training but, speaking of which,” He nears himself to your crouched form, going in to lean against a very old and empty crate.

“Gale, wait–” Right as your warning leaves you, they seem to evade him as falls right through the wood. A comical layer of dust and lichen pluming out from the force. He tries to quickly recover from both the physical and emotional damage as he brushes himself off to make himself presentable once more. 

“Ahem, as I was saying,” He again makes his way over to you, settling for just standing close as his attempts to look unbothered temporarily cost him his ego.

“I was serious about what I said before. While I don’t know what to make of our pallid friend just yet, as enigmatic as he is, what he said before is quite confusing. Best make haste away from here if you want your freedom while we’re distracted with this worm problem.” His tone suggests a genuine concern which confuses you.

You’d be lying to yourself if the label of the set up didn’t sound odd, but you’ve never expressed discomfort as there was nothing all too worrying about it on your end. It was mostly for show, and you had as much independence as Tav would have in your game.

You endeavor to quickly dispel his worries.

“You don’t have to worry, I’m very satisfied with my servitude under Astarion. He’s very lenient and reliable, and I’m better off with him than on my own." You return to your task of sifting through your materials but pause and look back up at him to continue.

"I do thank you for turning my way though. Your concern is much appreciated but unnecessary.” You lowered your head a bit to show your thanks.

“Well if someone as generous as yourself says to trust you on this, then I have no choice but to concede! I’ll keep a watchful eye and offer guidance, should you need it. Also, do we happen to have something for—” As he asks you for some sort of salve, just a few ways off, your eccentric “handler,” of sorts, watches the two of you interact.

Don’t get him wrong, such matters don’t really catch his attention, but being an elf does curse him with the ability to have extensive hearing. Something that he thinks Gale knew, and something you forgot. That would explain the lack of distance between you two.

He thinks it’s amusing how the wizard is trying to make conversation with you as if you were some foreign creature. His usual eloquence nowhere to be seen, and you seemed as unbothered as ever. Like how he usually saw you when you conversed with someone through a crystal.

It was a phone, not that he knew that though.

“They’re a real nice one, aren’t they?” Karlach says from her side of the camp which was nearer towards his tent and yours.

“Hm, yes. While that may be an admirable trait, it’s hardly going to get them anywhere if they keep this up.” Astarion huffed out, not very keen on your altruistic playstyle so far.

He doesn’t know much about what you do and don’t know, all he knows is that you do know of the events to unfold and could be the key to defeating his master.

 All he needs is to keep you at his side. So he’ll allow you this much freedom.

“Oh come on, you. You can’t seriously think that after everything. Our camp’s pretty well maintained because of ‘em, not to mention the connections we’ve been able to get!” She fortifies her statement by knocking on her chest, the engine humming within feels lighter and newer since you’ve informed her of the tiefling blacksmith at the grove. 

He hums in response, returning to reading his book as he thinks about his growing hunger. He’ll have to hunt soon enough. While your positive reputation occasionally reflects on him by proxy, it can also reflect negatively due to the alleged nature of your relationship. If he wants the journey to a way of understanding the tadpoles to be a more comfortable one, he has to at least prevent their trust in him from diminishing.

~

Night falls later than he’d have liked, having waited for everyone to be asleep so that he may prowl the forest for sustenance.

The rest were sound asleep in their bedroll as the skirmish from earlier on in the day had proven to be sufficiently tiring. The crackling fire surely brings a lulling warmth that he supposes he’ll have to miss out on for a while.

As he begins to slink off into the darkness, he looks back to gauge his surroundings and catches your form from across the settlement. It seems you were tallying away the items in the shared chest and double-checking to see that everything is checked and balanced with your records. 

Your shoulders jump at his suddenly standing form, but try to understand his intentions. You mouth, “where?” with a very confused face, to which he responds with a simple shushing motion and waits for your acknowledgement.

You nod slowly, and he holds your gaze before sneaking off once again.

‘He’s coming back, right?’ You wondered. The progression of your experience now in comparison to the game was vastly different, and you didn’t know if all scenes, or only some, would present themselves in this world. You assume he planned to hunt, and while you trust his abilities, you want to make sure he’s attended to properly should he be harmed in any way.

So after retrieving a few potions, a journal, and a pencil, you stashed them in a satchel and positioned yourself at the base of the tree in the direction he left in. You weren’t particularly sleepy tonight, and planned to pass the time in wait of your companion. 

There wasn’t much to do in this century to keep yourself entertained. The only things you’ve found so far were a few instruments and all manners of journals and inks.

The inkpot that you picked up appeared to be red this time. The game of, “which ink dye will I get this time?” will have to be the most of your entertainment for now. Not all too different from home, you suppose. And while writing keeps your mind at bay, illustrating all manners of wildlife have proven to be quite the fun exercise. 

You’ve made a few notes on creatures that you and your company have encountered. The visual elements of a drawing allowed you and the others to keep track of materials that could be salvaged from them, and their resistances to certain attacks. 

Though as much as you liked depicting such lifeforms in paper, you’ve come to be very interested in portraying your vampire friend.

Evidence of your interest present in the pages filled with his likeness as you search for an unmarked page. You’ve made a few of the others, yes, but anyone who would gain access to your journal would surely see which member of the group you favor more.

You continued to draw, and occasionally write, on the parchment as you waited for Astarion to come back. All sense of time evading you as you focus on the task at hand.

A perfect opportunity for a tired rogue to surprise an unsuspecting human.

“And what are you still doing up, little one?” He appears from behind the very tree you rested against, causing you to spill a bit of ink on your thumb.

You clicked your tongue, not at all annoyed by the character but by your absentmindedness and now stained appendage.

“Sorry, I was just waiting for you.” You sealed the inkpot, and gathered your materials. Effectively, but unknowingly, hiding your work from peering eyes that were the same deep red as your finger.

“I’m very flattered, darling. But couldn’t you wait until morning? I'm sure this couldn’t have been all too important, yes?” He gestures to your satchel, referring to your journal, but you misinterpreted it as him asking for your medical supplies.

“Oh, that depends. Are you hurt, by any chance? I stayed awake in case you might've needed help tending to yourself.” You opened the pouch to reveal its contents to him, your stained thumb in full view.

The sight makes him sigh out, but is thankful for your offered service.

“I’m alright, nothing of interest happened while I was away.” He considers telling you about the nature of his little…'escapade.' He's unaware if you are of his condition, and he doesn’t wish to out himself if not necessary to avoid possible conflict. So he settles for advising you to rest.

“We need you well rested, my dear. You sleep. I’ll keep watch.” The dialogue is familiar, and you can’t stop yourself from letting a small laugh out as you responded with an equally familiar line

“Thank you. I’ll sleep better for that.” You lower your head as you usually do in gratitude.

“The pleasure is all mine.” He mirrors your gesture, albeit in a way that is most appropriate for someone of his character. “Sweet dreams.”

You walked back to the chest. Returning the potions and ink you’ve plucked from the supply, but keeping the rest of the pouch’s materials with you as you turn in for the night. Awaiting the promise of further study that a new day typically makes.

As Astarion is left with his own thoughts, a sour taste still in his mouth from his earlier meal, he thinks about the man in the journal you kept. He did not see much, only a vague outline of the figure. He thinks about who, or what, it could have been but dismisses the thought rather quickly.

He has no time for a mysterious person with hair less perfect than his own, touching his untainted locks as he does.

————━─━────༺༻────━─━————

Thank you everyone for your interest in the series!! As per the request of some, I'll now be adding a taglist!

Thank you to @rey26, @shyminnie07, @lynnloveshobi, @iggee-rose, @automnepoet, and @tiannamortis for asking to be tagged!!

[kissmetwicekissmedeadly]

MIDNIGHT CINDERELLA MEMORIAL POST

The Midnight Cinderella app will be closed on Monday August 26th, 2024 (5 PM JST). The English version was actively updated from 2014 to 2021 when Cybird announced the ceasing of operations for MidCin, but the app remained accessible until today. I'm sure I'm not the only one who mourns the loss of it even after all these years of discontinuation, so I wanted to put together a post to properly say goodbye to it. Trying my best not to make it all too sappy - I'd rather look at it as a show that reached its final episode. Some things might be left unresolved but in the end, you remember the cast and the emotions they made you feel more than the actual plot. Nowadays there arguably may be better titles by Cybird out there, but for me, the simplicity of MidCin was what made the details so memorable.

1. VIDEO - POV: You're playing Midnight Cinderella (for 10 minutes)

The 10-minute version (without sound) is accessible via the link above (opens in Google Docs) This one I was really excited about recording! It's just your normal day playing midcin, I'm sure many will find it nostalgic and comforting. You log in, claim your daily bonus (I used the chance to do a present box reveal, 90+ items, many of which you might recognize from route grace checks), play the garden gacha (in my case, I used up all the points I had accumulated, 7800 which equals 39 solos), do your princess lessons, change your avatar, greet your friends, read 1/5 of today's free story parts, check the ranking and your stats, look at your memories directory. The video has no sound, as the game wouldn't let me turn it on (you will see me try to do so throughout the video...) but later on I got it to work so I recorded a one-minute video (the one imported above) of me replenishing stamina just for those iconic sound effects that you either loved or absolutely couldn't stand the volume of, haha.

2. A Midnight Cinderella playlist (spotify link)

While I wasn't there for the early days of midcin, the songs I associated with the game almost always captured this very specifically nostalgic 90s-10s period, you'll see what I mean. Many of those are taken from 8track playlists dedicated to Midnight Cinderella, and if I'm not mistaken you can still look at what is left of them if you search them up. Others are just my very random interpretations of the route stories and the characters.

3. Fic recommendations

We have a lovely community of creatives and there are still so many works left behind which you can check out on the tags! But especially for fics I wanted to list some that truly touched me during the years (all links open in ao3) -

i'm on fire and its NSFW bonus scene bloodstream by a deleted user - words are not enough for this one. It's like it meant more than Nico's whole route for me at one point, and the songs are forever in my heart as Nico songs...

MidCin Works by DBMidCin (SoftSen) - ALL of these. This is my go-to collection of writings for midcin when I start to miss the game, it has a little bit of everything. The headcanon of Giles teaching his girls French for instance is one of the things I still remember reading like it was yesterday!

Bedroom Etiquette (NSFW) by RubyLeeRay - Because this is the dream. Doing something forbidden with your tutor Giles is the ultimate fantasy, I swear. I just love it.

And of course, many, many more. There are currently 166 works on the midcin tag in Ao3, and I'm sure there are a lot of hidden gems here on tumblr as well! Reminder that writers LOVE it when you interact with their old works, it's not weird, you shouldn't hesitate doing so if you find yourself enjoying any of them! <3

4. My own humble collection of MidCin writings on my writing blog @xxsycamore!

Maid, Butler, Chamberlain (NSFW) - Nico x MC with Giles joining them

Grabbles: 💋 Demand for a kiss, right here, right now (GILES); 👔 Stealing their clothes to cuddle when you miss them (BYRON); more coming soon as there are still some in my askbox and I plan on including midcin in future short writings request openings too.

Shared Moments (NSFW) - Nico x Reader - Secret relationship

Ice-cold heat (NSFW) - Byron x Reader - Temperature play

Double the Surprise - Alyn and Leo birthday fic

Leo Crawford having a misadventure with a cat (ao3 link) - crack fic featuring most of the suitors

5. Out of context Midnight Cinderella screenshots

This is a sideblog of mine dedicated to posting out-of-context funny screenshots that I took while playing the routes - @oocmidcin . If you have some of your own that are not on there, you're free to submit them and add to the archive!

6. The perfect MidCin song - The Moon Will Sing by The Crane Wives

When I first discovered this song back in 2020 I dreamed of making it into a midcin music video with simplistic art and animations... It ended up being just something you daydream in detail about while in the car, but that's alright. I could at least share my vision with you! Disclaimer, this is just an interpretation and obviously it can't fit all characters ideally - In the brackets, I explain how the lyric is related to them and usually it reveals their backstories. Some of the details I've already forgotten, sorry if it's inaccurate.)

Tell me once again

I could have been anyone, anyone else

Before you made the choice for me

(Giles - his family making the choice for him since birth and later disowning him once he failed to become a knight due to his illness)

My feet knew the path

We walked in the dark, in the dark

I never gave a single thought to where it might lead

(Nico - wandering the streets with his mother once they were thrown out of Stein castle because she was a commoner having an affair with Byron's father, the King)

All those empty rooms

We could have been anywhere, anywhere else

Instead I made a bed with apathy

(Robert - the empty rooms of the once flourishing palace of the country that Robert ruled and led to demise, nowadays becoming a mere court painter)

My heart knew the weight

Ten years' worth of dust and neglect

We made our peace with weariness and let it be

(Leo - the years in which Alyn didn't speak to him, after the death of their parents)

The moon will sing a song for me

I loved you like the sun

Bore the shadows that you made

With no light of my own

(Albert - loyally standing in king Byron's shadow)

Name your courage now

We could have had anything, anything else

Instead you hoarded all that's left of me

(Sid - his relationship with his fiance that he agreed upon just to find out more about his parents by getting close to her father)

Swallowing your doubt

Like swords to the pit of my belly

I want to feel the fire that you kept from me

(Alyn - searching for answers about the murder of his family and the fire that burnt down their home)

I shine only with the light you gave me

(I could have been anyone, anyone)

(Louis - being a nobody and MC being his sun)

7. It goes on

I went to read what I could of chapter 4 of Rayvis' route, using my last two chapter tickets as well, thinking it won't make me cry. And then I'm hit with those familiar things.

So let's close this with a word about the things that never change in the universe of Midnight Cinderella.

Stumbling down the grand staircase and right into the arms of somebody. Escaping the palace at midnight with Nico's help. Sitting at breakfast with Giles giving you your schedule for the day. Nico's teasing little smile as he accompanies you everywhere and listens to your relationship troubles. The way he's just a little suspicious at times. Finding Robert painting in the garden of Wysteria palace. Going to the room of your chosen suitor for the first time and meeting a pet there. Leo teaching you history and politics in his office. Dance lessons with Louis. Needing those dance lessons because King Byron is coming to Wysteria and a ball is going to take place. The bureaucrats being unhappy with you as a princess elect, no matter what. Galloping on a horse with Alyn who just protected you from an enemy attack. Getting information from a certain flirty merchant at a bar. Albert bickering with Nico, Sid teasing Louis. Being introduced to Archduke Herneit at Stein castle. King Byron appreciating the night sky. The sight of your yellow and orange princess elect room where on the large bed with its blue bedframe and tall see-through canopy you lie awake and think about the events of the day and how would a wise future Queen of Wysteria deal with the current situation. But ultimately you fall asleep, hearing the melancholically beautiful sounds of a violin coming from somewhere deep within your dream, and leave it all to the following day.

Thank you for everything, Midnight Cinderella!

08/26/2024

[hivemuthur]

What was that? - Ch. 1.

viktorxfemale!OFC mature! (for now, I will mark later chapters as explicit when the time comes

friends to lovers, co-workers, sexual tension up to the wazoo, pinning and banter that got me frustrated when I was writing it, attempt at humour, some angst and a slow burn with a happy ending and a classic Viktor for once

Ch.2. | Ch.3. | Ch.4. | Ch.5. | Ch.6. | Ch.7. | Ch.8. | Ch.9. | Ch.10. | Ch.11. | Ch.12. | Ch.13. | Ch.14. | Ch.15.

word count: 4,6K

tag: #what was that

summary: A romance that explores two insecure people growing closer together through snippets of their time at work.

author’s note: Can I post three things a day? Yes. This is the first fic I've written and I love it dearly. It connected me with @rennethen who has been beta reading it patiently and helped me create significant parts of it, and for that connection alone it was worth to write it.

Cross-posted on AO3

—

“Renly, are you being serious right now?” John stormed into the lab’s kitchen visibly flushed with anger. Renly only blinked at him, a question in her eyes.

“I guess? Didn’t you get my note?” She definitely remembered sending the note asking John to take a raincheck. She even made a song about it to not forget, like the last time. Viktor had mocked the song at first but later grew annoyed with it.

”Please stop, this song is now rotting my brain. I get it, John is a nice guy,” Viktor rotated on his chair with a groan that has clearly been building up for at least one minute.

“Sorry, it’s the only way I don’t get distracted and forget!” to Viktor’s demise, Renly sang this line as well.

“Well, didn’t you get my note?” John said, already huffing, seemingly offended. He did get her note, he did see the little heart she drew on it and a coffee stain that suggested she wrote it hastily, while doing something else with her other hand. So, he sent a passive aggressive jokey note back stating that it’s tomorrow or he doesn’t know when, because he is also oh-so-busy.

“I can’t make it otherwise,” he laid his hands apart in apologetic gesture.

“Like… this week? Or ever?” light mockery in her voice, she said with her back to John, while pouring coffee into two cups. “It’s okay, we can have breakfast here. Do you want coffee?” Renly pulled out the third cup from the sink and waved it at John expectantly.

At which point, Viktor entered their tiny lab kitchen, scrunching his wet hair with a damp towel, his cheeks flushed and clothes slightly dishevelled, clinging to his hot-after-shower body. “Do I smell coffee? Hi John,” he said, waving at the doorway.

“Nothing will hide from you. Crisis averted?” Renly asked referring to fifteen minutes ago, when Viktor banged viciously on the bathroom door, demanding shower access immediately, as he spilled suspicious fluid from Renly’s workstation all over himself.

She said it was punishment for snooping. He said she’d taken his favourite pen, and her workstation was planned ridiculously, making moving around risky. Also, she took showers that lasted forever. She said her shower was only fifteen minutes, which is perfectly within bounds of morning toilet routine. He said she should shower at home and sleep at home; otherwise, she would end up a social pariah like him and Jayce. She said it’s a bit late for that as night is a perfect time for quiet work and she is one person away from the social pariah status. She meant John. So right now, it really did look like she was close to adding it to her work signature. She had to evacuate from the bathroom before she had the chance to dry off completely, which is why her hair was wet.

“Did you shower together?” John’s tone gained additional pitch to it as he asked his ridiculous question, visibly getting more and more distressed.

“Yes, John. We also have occasional orgies that I forgot to mention,” Renly couldn’t help about the snarky comment but when she turned around to take a look at her… boyfriend? They went out about ten times and slept together twice, so she guessed he was her boyfriend already. Well, he looked hurt, and she immediately wished she didn’t say it, no matter how ridiculous it sounded.

“Please, don’t be like that. I pulled an all-nighter again, and it was too late to go home. We showered separately, obviously,” she said in a softer voice as the cups were placed on the tiny table in the middle of the kitchen, only three chairs.

“I will give the two of you some space,” Viktor swept his cup with Jayce’s face on it and gave both of them polite smile as he walked out faster, than Renly thought he was able to.

“So… are you very cross with me?” she waited for Viktor to leave the area and asked reaching out to place her palm on top of John’s forearm, but he winced away.

John had always been good at making himself seem indispensable. When they first started seeing each other, his charm felt effortless—little gestures like remembering her favourite tea or distracting her with a ridiculous joke when she was too stressed to focus. She had let her guard down with him in a way she rarely allowed herself to. It had felt safe, comforting even. But lately, the cracks in that façade were harder to ignore. He got offended easily and threw some stupid accusations at her when he was out of arguments. She did admit, she was quite oblivious to some of relationship savoir-vivre, but it was also discussed priorly! And he said he doesn’t mind, so the next part caught her off-guard.

“I… don’t think this will work out this way,” he said with a sigh and waved his hand around making her question if he meant them, or breakfast with Victor in near vicinity. “I didn’t know this is what I was signing up for frankly,” he finished and gave her a sad puppy glance. This made her… angry? Of course, he knew what he was signing up for. She told him from the very beginning how important her work was. And how bad she was at this, but he just called her cute. Surely, this was enough of a warning. Or maybe it wasn’t but John really didn’t seem like he heard anything of what she ever said in the long run.

He was a Piltie, and she was from Zaun. He liked posh places that were trying to pass as casual, she liked to hang out by the riverbank in the evenings and sneak into The Undercity to look at street art and eat street food. He always seemed to pay attention to what she was telling him about her lab work and how many lives it could potentially change but at the end of every test presentation and heated one-sided conversation (it was hot on her side only) when she looked at him expectantly, he praised her with a you are so smart or you look pretty when you get excited about science and it left her empty of all air like a sad balloon in the aftermath of a party. He probably had a politician’s career ahead of him, so in the future, he would be the person to decide whether she does or doesn’t get funding for her research and in her mind’s eye John was a person that would probably happily fund something else than the medicine for long term Grey exposure symptoms. But he was a good practice for that. And despite everything else, she did like him. He had his moments, as they say.

In a few seconds, that took very long in the pocket dimension of her brain, Renly tried to calculate how much fault in this situation was hers and if it was worth to back down and give him a peace offering in form of a dinner at her place, that she would cook, and they would be alone, and it would be romantic, and he would probably get to fuck her on the dinner table.

The plan started forming itself, when John said “I mean… you spend all your free time here, or you drag me around the lanes. Also, this Viktor guy? I got over Jayce, recently he is barely here. So…” he dragged his huge eyes across her face looking for a sign of understanding that wasn’t there “…you understand how I feel when you spend most of your time with another man.” It came out weak, but he decided to stand by it.

“Another man? It’s Viktor,” she scoffed. “Not even a day ago he stated how much I disgust him with Zaunian food in fridge. He works all the time. We sleep in separate rooms. He…” Renly inhaled, exasperated by this accusation. It’s ridiculous, how insecure John was to even suggest that.

“He is a friend. And that’s all. I assure you he is not interested in me.” She had a dead serious certainty about this. If something was fixed in this universe, it was the fact that Viktor wasn’t interested in her. And she didn’t think of him that way either. Except the one time she let her mind wander, and she did. Which was a lie, because she thought that at least twice.

Once, when they met for the first time. She already knew Jayce, who made her gasp the first time she saw him. The impression passed, but friendship remained. Jayce and Viktor, freshly acquainted, were passing her classroom when a quake shook The Uppercity. It caused one of her test tubes to fall into the vial she was working on, breaking and triggering a teeny-tiny exoenergic reaction (it exploded). The hero within Jayce’s body drove him straight in to help any casualties, of which the only one was Renly, face full of colourful goo. From the floor, she glanced at Viktor walking in shortly after his partner, and she gasped, even more than when she had met Jayce. She immediately knew it was wrong to look for so long. Her suspicion was confirmed when Viktor’s expression shifted from amusement to the realization that his brief chance to present himself as more than the guy with a cane had passed. From that point forward, he was very formal with her, though he occasionally joked about history repeating itself within the academy walls.

It was a lie though, as well. She first saw Viktor by the riverbank in Zaun, as a child. She had been maybe seven, and he could have been slightly older. Her eyes, round and curious, followed him trying to chase down his mechanical ship taken by the stream. She tried to shadow him that day, but he disappeared in the mouth of a cave she was afraid to walk into. He had a smaller cane then and she thought him a magician. So, she only lingered in disbelief that their paths crossed once more and that he was, indeed, real. And also, in awe of how beautifully he has grown up. But overall, Renly counted it as a one time.

Second time, after she decided to stay at university to continue her research and teach students, they were copying the notes together and Jayce was growing more and more bored, so he kept trying to start random topics.

"I wonder if all of them are as pretty as Mel,” he said, trying to trace down beautiful Mel Medarda’s heritage while fishing for reassurance from his friends about their imminent romance.

“But maybe it’s not a rule. I mean, looking at the both of you I would say the rule for Zaun is to be full of attractive people as well,” Jayce was waffling on, and Renly grew tired of it.

“And ugly people. And short people. And tall people. And fat people, and skinny people, Jayce. It’s all just people, like in Piltover, there is no rule to here or Zaun. Initially, it’s the same city, and we all come from different places,” she said harshly not lifting her sight from the notes she was copying.

“Oh relax, it was a compliment! And I am looking for reassurance from you guys, yes,” he traced his finger down the blackboard, wiping some of the old equations away.

“Not very progressive of you, the Man of Progress. I can give you reassurance – Mel seems fine. You will be fine. You are a big boy, Jayce. But I do not need compliments, not because I’m from The Undercity, nor because I’m a woman,” Renly’s dead stare made Jayce look for help from Viktor. She gave him a pass and went back to scribbling.

“Vik, any help?”

“I’m afraid with this one I have to place myself in Renly’s corner. Even though of the two of us, I probably am the one that needs compliments,” Viktor also didn’t glance up from above his paperwork.

“No, you don’t,” Renly didn’t notice she now got the attention of both of her friends.

“You are, yourself, quite…” her mind was absent at this moment, so it was probably the other part of her that spoke the rest “…dreamy.” A second past, in which her brain caught up with her mouth and a deep shade of red bled into her cheeks and chest. She cleared her throat, stood up quickly and threw barely audible excuse me leaving the boys to exchange their looks and make their fun of her. Jayce snorted when Renly was out of hearing range and Viktor only mouthed a what was that? That was the second time, infinitely more mortifying than the first one.

“You put a lot of effort into assuring me of this, but you never once said if you are not interested in him. From where I’m standing, you are definitely not interested in me,” John’s voice broke her out of reminiscing.

Renly’s face went into stupid mode, twisting her features with disbelief. How dare he.

“Are you really saying what I’m hearing? Are you accusing me of infidelity based on your own insecurity? Have I truly given you any reason to believe I’m involved with anyone else but you? When do you think I would have time for that? Or do you actually not listen to me when I tell you about what I’m doing here and how much of my time and energy it consumes?” John’s expression grew more and more panicked as he saw how far he has overstepped.

“This is not… I didn’t…”

“What you didn’t do is think. You are the one who is not interested in me, John. You listen to me, but you do not register, nor remember anything I tell you. What do you want from me? Should I drop everything I’m doing just to dangle from your shoulder at the parties? Should I change the way I speak? Should I cut all my friends and relatives loose because they are from The Undercity? Would that make you feel secure enough?” she spat at him, becoming more and more angry with every sentence, self-winding regret fuelling her.

“Gods, this is not what I want, and you know it,” John brought his hand to the back of his neck, his voice gentler this time. “I just don’t feel like you want me around, is all,” he whispered, his words making Renly’s shoulders drop and her chest sink.

His fingers tapped an idle rhythm on the table, his eyes darting toward the adjoining lab room. It wasn’t the first time she’d caught him stealing glances at her colleagues’ workspaces, but she had always dismissed it as idle curiosity or stupid jealousy, first over Jayce, then over Viktor. Now, though, every stolen glance felt like a clue she should have picked up on sooner.

“I do,” she hesitated. “I did. I invited you to meet my people, come to my home, my work, my bed,” at which point, in the other room, Viktor—who was doing his absolute worst not to listen—squeezed a piece of chalk a little too hard, causing half of it to disintegrate into dust with a loud, whiny, bone-chilling sound that gave him goosebumps at the back of his neck. So, they slept together, great. Just great. It didn’t bother him at all, and yet… it bothered him greatly for some reason. Probably just because she will be a nightmare to be around for the next week or so.

Ridiculous, Viktor thought, though the word didn’t carry the weight he wanted it to. What did it matter who she invited into her bed? It certainly wasn’t his concern. The tightening in his chest wasn’t jealousy—it couldn’t be. No, it was irritation, that’s all. Irritation because she was so impulsive, so reckless, letting herself be distracted by someone so undeserving of her attention.

Why did it bother him? It wasn’t the first time she’d been entangled in some personal drama, and usually, he had the patience to tune it out. Yet here he was, bristling at every raised word, every pointed jab from John. It wasn’t his place to care. He had told himself years ago that people like Renly—bright, chaotic, and distractingly beautiful—were nothing but a complication. And yet, he found himself gripping his cane tighter every time John’s voice rose.

“Just realistically, I don’t think this is what you want. So, the obvious choice would be to put a pin in it until we both decide what we want,” her voice faltered. Breaking things off with John hadn’t been part of her plans for the day, and she could never have been emotionally prepared for this—especially not before breakfast. She wasn’t really breaking things off with him, either. Maybe a short, temporary break would do them good, cool things off. She fidgeted with her fingers under the table, becoming increasingly self-conscious about how much of the conversation Viktor had overheard.

“Really? So now it’s about me not respecting your Zaunian heritage, instead of you blowing me off at every opportunity?” at this point John knew that guilting her into giving it one more shot was probably his only chance. His father really wanted those hextech blueprints, and he would be very disappointed if John didn’t manage to get them. “Look, I don’t mind if we hang out here at all. But truth be told, you don’t really invite me here very often,” John said, his voice softer now, but there was an edge beneath it, like a scalpel disguised as a pen.

He had a way of twisting her words, making her feel like the selfish one for not prioritizing him more. It was a skill he wielded well, and for a moment, it almost worked. But the memory of all those little disappointments—the times he had brushed off her work as "just another experiment" or barely listened when she explained her progress—bubbled up like a pressure valve ready to burst. He did actually like her. She was his type – pretty, quirky, talented and driven. She could be a bit more elegant, but that would be polished with time. “We could make a schedule, meet here when nobody is around? Maybe you could even show me some hextech, hm?” with this, he knew he probably pushed a little bit too far, as her expression grew weary.

There it was again, that same calculated curiosity masked as casual conversation. At first, she had chalked it up to natural interest—what Piltover scholar wouldn’t want to know more about hextech? But now, with his eyes lingering too long on the blueprints and his questions steering the conversation in predictable directions, she couldn’t shake the feeling that this was about more than idle fascination.

“I… you know I don’t work with hextech,” she shook her head while her brain was glueing the pieces together. “Why would you…,” and it hit her gently, prompted by the guilt painting her soon-to-be-ex-boyfriend’s face. Unbelievable. When she thought about it longer, he did usually snoop around innocently while waiting for her to wrap up work. He would wander between the lab rooms, seemingly just killing time, but she saw him linger on the blueprints more than once. When she told him about her experiments, he always drove the discussion towards Viktor and Jayce’s work. How are they doing? So does this hextech actually work? And what do they want to use it for again? And he tried to pin it on her sleeping with Viktor. The audacity.

Renly wanted to believe the relationship had been real, that it hadn’t just been about her work or her connections. But as she stared at him now—his charming smile just a little too polished, his words just a little too well-placed—she realized how many times she had ignored her instincts. How often she had pushed aside the nagging thought that he didn’t see her, not really. Just the parts of her that were useful.

“So… you come here and make a scene about the note that you seemingly wrote for me and that I didn’t get. You accuse me of cheating on you with my colleague,” at which point Viktor scoffed to himself in the other room. The idea of Renly and him being a thing was laughable. She was too stubborn, too unpredictable, too... distracting. And yet, John’s misplaced jealousy had struck an uncomfortable chord. Absurd, Viktor reassured himself. If anything, she deserves better than someone like me. She deserves better than both of us.  

“You propose a solution – let’s hang out here,” Renly exhaled, and her eyes rested on her hands with the realization of being used all this time hitting her hard. She didn’t think she cared that much. Frankly, having a normal secure relationship also with someone normal and secure was a hope she didn’t dare to entertain very often. It was mostly work and friends for her. So, when John came along, she just let it happen, as maybe, she thought, it was a good thing happening to her. Realizing there was no love in it, left her feeling numb.

In the other room, Viktor stopped pretending to work and simply sat on a stool, his hands and chin resting on his cane. That was new territory, a kind of danger they hadn’t anticipated. Also, he did feel angry for Renly – annoying as she was, she really didn’t deserve this. He wondered if he should intervene and kick John out, but the act would have to be based on his authority, which as a fellow Zaunian in John’s eyes he had none. Any show of force would need to be purely verbal—calculated and precise enough to leave the boy speechless and make him back down without a fight. While he was negotiating the terms of this heroic act with himself, he heard Renly’s voice echoing across the corridors: “I think it’s best you go.”

“Can we talk this through?” one last desperate attempt on John’s side as he covered Renly’s palm with his. She slid her hand from underneath his, threw a quick no over her shoulder and stepped through a heavy metal door that separated living area form the laboratory. She locked it behind her with a loud crank and immediately sank to hug her knees. Well, shit. This wasn’t part of her plan for today. And she didn’t want to cry in front of Viktor. If Jayce was here, he’d make it better, but he was with the beautiful Mel Medarda having breakfast in her quarters, which was a secret. Viktor would make fun of her—or worse, he’d get cross for endangering their life’s work. On one side of the door, her mean ex-boyfriend, on the other her mean niggling friend. She could just stay here.

“Do you need help getting up?” Viktor’s voice made her gasp and release the tears that were gathering under her eyelids, now streaming down her cheeks. And just to be clear, they were angry tears, not sad pathetic tears.

“Maybe,” Renly said, wiping her face with a sleeve, unable to bring herself to look him in the eye. She accepted his offered hand, which was about to pull her up. Unfortunately, the sudden movement sent a cramp shooting down Viktor’s calf, leaving Renly standing while he folded in half.

“Oh shit, Viktor I’m sorry, let me grab a stool!”

“Ah, no need. It’s fine. Just a cramp, it’ll stretch,” he panted, sliding down the corridor wall. She crouched down by him, question in her eyes about what to do.

“Well, where is it? I can… rub it out?” she heard herself saying and a darker shade of pink flushed her already enflamed cheeks. Viktor noticed. Her hands were faster than her brain this time and she already had his calf in her grasp, looking for the knot.

The warmth of her hands startled him, a flicker of something unwanted creeping into his thoughts. He shut it down immediately. She’s just helping. Don’t make it into something it isn’t. But the gentleness of her touch lingered longer than it should have, and when she looked up at him, her face flushed with concentration, he had to look away. Focus, Viktor. This means nothing.

“How did you get this so bad, Viktor?” she gasped at the state of her friend’s muscle, contracted like a rusty hinge. Her eyes full of concern, and some guilt. She made him uncomfortable in his own lab, because of some stupid drama. Stupid, yet it tore a hole in her heart.

Viktor remembered this look. He remembered the way she had looked at him back when they first met—not the awestruck gaze she reserved for Jayce, but something deeper, sharper. It had unnerved him. People always noticed the cane first; it was a fact he had come to accept. But she had looked past it—no, she had lingered on it, and he wasn’t sure whether it was curiosity, pity, or something else entirely. It didn’t matter now. He had decided long ago to keep her at a polite distance.

“Too much sitting down, ah!” he gasped when more pressure was applied “I tried to work through your… quarrel,” Viktor’s voice grew breathier, his eyebrows pinching together. Absent-mindedly, he placed his right hand on Renly’s shoulder and closed his eyes, letting his body relax into her touch. She was very careful, almost… affectionate.

“I guess this would fuel John’s theory,” he chuckled slightly, forgetting himself. Did he just admit that something was possible? Renly was too focused on getting rid of the knot to notice the awkward grunt following this sentence, and without much thought to it she said, “don’t be ridiculous.”

Something sunk in Victor’s chest hearing that. Of course, it was ridiculous. He was ridiculous. All of it. He was about to figure out how to run away, take his leg with him and tell her this is good enough, when she continued.

“I mean, we are not responsible for someone’s insecurities. I refuse to be. Also, as I presume you heard all of it, you will know that it was all a play,” she put so much attention into rubbing Viktor’s calf that the words just went out of her mouth. “Just to get his hands on hextech. So, I’m guessing this accusation was also fabricated to guilt me. Or he was obsessed with you. Which I understand… gotcha!” she exclaimed as the muscle relaxed under her fingers, and Viktor gave an involuntary moan, making both of them flush slightly.

The tension in his calf eased, but his chest felt impossibly tight. He was about to thank her—briefly, formally—when the look on her face stopped him. She was glowing, not with the self-satisfaction he often associated with Jayce, but with genuine care. It was infuriating. No, not infuriating—irrelevant. Why do you even notice these things? he scolded himself, rising awkwardly to his feet and turning away before the warmth in her eyes could undo him further.

“Forgive me, I… thank you,” was all he was able to say.

“That’s… it’s nothing, no worries.”

“I believe you know this, but in case you don’t—he’s a donkey, and you’re brilliant, yes?” Viktor tossed over his shoulder. “Ah, I’m not… thank you,” she said, standing in the corridor, confused, her face burning. What was that?

[n0vatsu]

Ok ik this isn’t smth I usually do but the internet is in danger and I need to take action

Recently KOSA has got its first pass and we need to stop it from becoming a law ppl r saying call or email your senators to oppose this bill and this is true but what if you’re asking what I don’t have one or what if I don’t live in USA or just can’t do anything since you are a minor well I am going to spread awareness of this petition so the people who are deciding this KOSA stuff can see this and possibly stop KOSA for good right now this petition only has around 10,000 signs and we need a lot more than that

“What is KOSA?”

KOSA aka online children safety act is a internet bill that claims that it will protect children from inappropriate stuff(18+ for ex) but actually It’s gonna end up banning all apps and sites that are “inappropriate” (tumblr for ex) and not only that it’s also gonna give your parents more access on what you are doing on the internet they are gonna view what sites you’ve been on and everything giving minors NO privacy on their phones for ex: you haven’t told your parents your part of the LGGTIA+ community welp this bill is gonna tell your parents that and you’re not ready yet

here is the petition

disclaimer: I did not started this petition I am just trying to spread awareness and attempt to save the internet

You could make a change, you could help stop KOSA and save the internet and save so many content creators from experience of this madness we won’t give up until KOSA is done for good remember anyone can take action to stop something that is wrong when either how to take a step is big or small

Here’s what I want you guys to do

1: sign the petition

2: reblog this post

3: tag your friends and get them to do the same thing

4: if you can, spread this petition (not this post) to other sites for ex: YouTube,Discord,TikTok, or whatever apps you use

5: do anything else that can spread this across the internet

repost this ik I said don’t repost my posts but this is an exception Idc just do whatever you can to spread this petition I am not losing everything over some dumb internet bill

-Tsutsujinothere

THIS IS NOT A JOKE KOSA WILL RUIN THE INTERNET!

[galedekarios]

this is a personal vent post so please let me just get it all out without trying to come at me lol:

so many ppl saying they respect larian's decision to peace out and not deal with hasbro/wotc, but i have to be honest, i don't respect them at all.

they are leaving a game behind that is unfinished and a narrative mess.

they leave a game behind where everyone paid the same amount of money for it, yet depending on which character you prefer, you get less content.

the disparity between everyone else and their writer's pet ast*rion is insane. he has a half to a third more content depending on which character you compare him to.

they leave behind a sparse act 2, which is already so barren compared to act 1 and all it had to offer. act 3 is a narrative mess and lacks structure.

they leave a game behind where they made promises a handful of weeks before release where they ought to have known that they, in fact, will not be delivering said promises: access to the upper city, consequences for playing certain races across the acts (playing a drow is going to be different in act 1 and gives you advantages vs act 3 where it would give you understandable disadvantages), etc etc etc.

they leave behind a game where content was cut from the companions to make it seem like the origins have something to offer when that system is barely able to compare what origin playthroughs offered in dos2 and it hurts the game and the experience (like tara being cut for companion gale).

they leave behind a game where they promised to much variety and proclaimed in panels from hell how they struggled to show the width and depth of the game, but really? it's about as deep as a puddle. a lot of the choices do not matter. kill ethel? nah, she's alive and well in the city. no sister hags to be angry here. give karlach no infernal iron and never talk to her at all? doesn't matter, she'll survive until the end of act 3 and will still call you her bff. dissuade gale to use the orb? we'll make sure he'll still offer 3 more times just in case. send yenna away from camp bc you don't want her there? doesn't matter, she'll stay. and yes, i'm aware these are all small things, but they are part of a larger problem. almost nothing you do truly matters to the point of where i just skip most things in act 1 and 2 now.

they leave behind a game that they promise to still patch, but some things have been broken since early access / release to the point of where i'm like i'm sorry, but your word that you will continue to patch things means about as much to me as all the other empty promises. the dialogue about morena dekarios is still broken and it's been over half a year now. the astral sea scene has low-res body textures for months. i know from mutuals who love minthara that her romance is still broken. and i could go on and on.

and what gets me the most about this is all is that they have learned nothing at all from dos2: act 3 of that game was so bugged and all over the place that i couldn't muster up the motivation to finish it the first time i played. they neglected a character to the point of where he could have been removed from the game or made a general hireling (beast).

those issues were at least attempted to be fixed in the definitive edition.

with swen saying that there will be no new content anymore and stating that both bg3 and its characters are now property of wotc/hasbro, it seems unlikely we'll even get an attempt of a fix.

so what this boils down to to me is just another game company not delivering on their promises after overselling their product and more or less abandoning it after a year to move onto the next big thing.

i don't think i can respect that ngl.