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tripleyeeet · 10 months

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IN ANOTHER UNIVERSE, MAYBE (2)

SUMMARY: It's always been hard being the sibling of a superhero. Lately though, it feels next to impossible.

PAIRING: Miguel O'Hara & Female Reader

WORD COUNT: 5,136

WARNINGS: Angst, enemies-to-lovers adjacent, descriptions of a panic attack/dissociate behaviours, inappropriate use of medication/alcohol consumption.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Okay, first of all, the amount of love I've received from this fic has been insane??? Like, y'all really knocked it out of the park, both here and on AO3 and I'm absolutely astounded? Thank you so much! You guys have literally motivated me so much so hopefully this chapter lives up to the hype of the first? :)

CHAPTER LIST / LAST CHAPTER / MASTERLIST

“God, I am never drinking again.”

You stumble into the living room with your hands against your eyes, palming the sockets roughly. It’s morning, maybe even early afternoon, and already the sun is pushing through the blinds, coating the apartment in enough light that it makes you squint. On the couch Miguel grumbles under the covers as you walk by, pulling the fabric over his head as he readjusts his position, directing himself away.

You’re surprised to see him there but say nothing, opting to wander into the kitchen to pour yourself a glass of water, noticing a fresh sticky note on the fridge: Call me when you’re up —Pete!

Hm, he must’ve gone over to MJ’s for the night.

Peeling the note away, you continue your trek for hydration, grabbing a glass that you fill and chug down twice before feeling satisfied enough to continue. Or at least, enough to survive considering just how sore you are. From your knees down you can feel the leftover aches from walking home; the many miles you’d managed to travel in your drunken state now heavy on your mind. There are at least one or two blisters on each foot thanks to your poor choice of footwear while the muscles surrounding your shins feel like they might actually be burning through your flesh.

As you walk back through the living room you try not to groan at the pain, turning your attention to Miguel who’s now reluctantly awake.

“Morning, grandpa.”

You walk over and press the sticky note to his forehead, ignoring the way he swears under his breath and looks at you with narrowed eyes.

“It’s not nice to assault people with sticky notes before they’ve had coffee.”

Shrugging in response, you walk back to your bedroom to grab your phone, listening to the creak of your couch as Miguel shifts out of place.

It’s weird that he’s still here. After everything that happened last month, you were certain you’d never have to see him again. Being Peter’s boss and not much else, he’d become nothing more than a disdainful memory as time went on. A poor impression from the past that Peter never talked about. If you were honest, you weren’t expecting to hear about him so soon, much less see him, especially without his mask.

So seeing him here, sitting so nonchalantly on your couch is a bit strange. Off-putting in a way that leaves you emotionally winded as you sit on the edge of your bed, staring at your notifications.

There’s about half a dozen apologies from Peter alone, each variation more extreme than the last. Mixed between there’s a few memes and a picture of him pretending to cry on MJ’s floor with the caption sorry for being the worst brother, which you immediately save for future use. There’s also one from Harry asking you to send him a work email that you ignore and another from Gwen once again asking you to come for brunch.

You glance at the time, noticing that it’s nearing eleven. She and Harry are probably already at their usual spot, munching away on overpriced, organic eggs and inhaling mimosas. (Something you'd normally enjoy but can’t quite fathom doing thanks to the pain currently rippling through your body.)

Groaning, you curl further into the bed, feeling your head shift like an ocean wave that sends you flying across the room. In response, you shut your eyes as tight as possible, hoping that if you roll with the movements you’ll get used to them faster.

Immunity through the power of will and all that.

“I see you’re still alive.”

You refuse to open your eyes. You need to focus on getting better —on pushing through the swirling motions that attack your brain because if you don’t you’ll be stuck here all day, helpless and in pain and way too dizzy. No longer will you be a person, but instead a shell. A fragile casing of sensitive flesh stretched over bruising bone that will slowly but surely deteriorate over time.

“Are you always this dramatic?”

The urge to argue persists, flowing through you just quick enough that you find yourself opening one eye, noticing his stance.

He’s standing nonchalantly in the centre of your room; hands placed neatly on his hips. On his face, the tiniest of smirks pokes out of the corner of his mouth, prompting you to lift your head, blinking at what feels like a rare sight.

“Are you always this hostile?”

“Only in the morning.”

“Even towards complete strangers?”

“Especially to strangers.”

“Makes sense why you don’t have many friends.”

“And how would you know that, stranger?”

He’s got that teasing tone that Harry always has. The one that sounds so condescending that it borders flirtation. Immediately it makes you roll your eyes and direct your attention back to your phone, realizing just how little you want to continue this conversation. You’re too hungover. Too sick and tired to do this whole back-and-forth thing, so instead you call Peter, putting the call on speakerphone with a sigh.

It rings twice before the other end clicks to life, a very joyful and awake Peter greeting the both of you. “Good morning friends, how are we doing on this beautiful morning?”

Almost in unison both of you grumble out a quiet fine that makes Peter laugh, prompting you to look at each other with shared disgust.

“Are you hungover?”

“What do you think?”

“Gwen called me this morning,” he says, changing the subject. “She wants to go for brunch.”

“That’s nice, but I will not be attending on the account of the fact that I’d rather die.”

“So dramatic,” Miguel chimes in.

Ignoring him, you place your phone onto the pillow next to you and tighten the covers around your throat.

Your head is still spinning but less so, the waves feeling more like lakeside tides than oceanic swells, leaving you thankful. There’s nothing worse than the spins after a night out. You can handle the stomach aches and even the vomiting but the second you can feel that mental drift you’re a goner.

“Okay well, MJ and I are going to go if you change your mind. Miguel, you're welcome to come too.”

“No thanks,” he says, unsurprisingly.

There’s a pause after that. One that lasts a solid five seconds but feels like a lifetime longer thanks to the way Miguel continues to stand there, staring at your pathetic frame tucked haphazardly beneath the covers.

“You know staring is rude, right?”

“Is it?”

“Yeah, and weird too considering I barely know you.”

“You saying it’s weird for strangers to stare at strangers?”

“A little, yeah, so knock it off.”

He gives in, his eyes diverting towards the window before they move to the door, motivating his body to leave the room without another word. Once he’s gone you let out a sigh of relief and listen to his footsteps, hearing the way they move through the living room and into the kitchen.

It makes you wonder why he’s even still here, taking up space in a home he isn’t really welcome in. You figured it was obvious from the beginning that he was nothing more than an overnight guest. A protective stand-in meant to slip away in the dead of night with no word or note. He was never meant to linger the way he is now and a part of you wonders if he already knows. If instead of picking up and applying said social cues, he’s opting to ignore them for some higher purpose.

It wouldn’t make much sense but then again, you don’t really know Miguel so maybe he’s just a lingerer. Maybe he’s socially awkward and doesn’t understand that when you’re being mean to him it means you want him to leave your house so you can vomit in peace.

“I see you guys are getting along.”

“Swimmingly.”

“Did you two have a good night?”

“Yes, oh my god it was amazing!”

“Really?”

You offer a fake laugh that Miguel walks in on, raising his brow in confusion. “No, we had a terrible time. Your boss is mean, Peter.”

Offended, Miguel opens his mouth to speak but quickly closes it, watching the way you smirk beneath the covers, watching his brows knit together.

“How am I mean? I walked you home didn’t I?”

“Sure, begrudgingly.”

He scoffs, his palms moving to encompass his hips again. “I didn’t realize I was supposed to enjoy walking you home. I’ll remember that next time.”

Next time?

You narrow your eyes and stare directly at him, noticing the way he mirrors your expression. It’s subtle at first, the way the crinkles of his eyes sort of deepen to match the lines across his forehead. His skin is rough —aged looking most likely due to the fact he probably slept terribly— and the bags beneath his eyes are the heaviest you’ve ever seen, even rivalling Peter’s on some of his rougher days. Like you, he looks more like a corpse than a person, his face devoid of anything other than the sickened frustration of having to deal with your attitude.

“I’m gonna be honest if you’re ever running late again, please call someone else.”

It’s obvious you’re talking to Peter but as you speak you continue staring at the man in front of you, glaring at the way his weight shifts beneath your gaze.

You hope he’s uncomfortable. You hope he’s embarrassed or at least feeling a little self-conscious for acting like such a child in a space that he hopefully never feels welcome in. If you were him you’d certainly be.

“Yeah, so, anyway, is that still a no to breakfast or…?”

You’re beginning to regret ever wanting to get involved in Peter’s double life. Or at least, its most recent developments. Up until last month, everything was fine. Simple and controlled and not at all hectic like it is now. Back then, everything was smooth sailing when it came to helping. Your only responsibilities being lie to May and make sure the window was always unlocked before you went to bed. Two very mundane tasks you could practically do in your sleep.

Nowadays, it feels like an endless loop of stress. Kind of like when you were eighteen and just finding out that your brother was a superhero for the first time. Everything is complicated again. The stakes feel higher than ever before knowing the truth that there’s a world out there just like yours, endlessly repeating. That instead of just one Spider-Man there’s probably a million variations doing the same thing Peter’s doing.

You’d be lying if you said it didn’t make you look at everything differently —intensively. With each new person you pass you wonder what their version is like somewhere else. Are they still male or female? Are they younger? Older?

As you walk into brunch alongside Peter and MJ, it’s all you can think about as you stare at Gwen, remembering her counterpart. How she looked so familiar but you couldn’t quite place it.

You realize now that it’s because she’s your Gwen, but not. A direct copy but a good decade younger. They have the same hair colour and eyes and that little gap between their front teeth and upon seeing her it makes you wearily shift into your seat, putting on your fakest smile.

She’s already a bit tipsy when you arrive, you can tell. Her eyes are half closed and the grin plastered across her face is hazardously wide.

“Oh, my god, hi! I’m so glad you came!”

If it weren’t for the table between you she’d be pulling you in for a hug, tightening her grip around your shoulders until the air inside you was gone. You inhale nervously at the thought, wondering if other Gwen would do the same.

It’s hard to tell what traits transfer over. Considering she’s a spider person in her universe it’s more than likely she’s completely different, right? Perhaps relating more to Peter. It’d make sense that all spider people kind of have the same vibe. Perhaps like your brother, they’re nerdy and into photography and have partners with nicknames that double as their initials. Like him they'd live double lives, trying their best to find the balance between being crime-fighting arachnids and regular civilians with the help of their sisters.

Or brothers. You figure in other universes you’re probably a guy too. Hell, maybe even in some you're the spider person having to navigate through life with the help of your brother.

“Sorry we’re late,” Pete grins, pulling out the chair beside you so that MJ can sit down. “Somebody had a bit too much to drink.”

You shoot him a look as he sits at the head of the table, sticking out his tongue for good measure.

You hope in the universe where you have superpowers you give him a hard time.

“It’s fine, we overdid it too,” Gwen says, looking at Harry who rolls his eyes and looks at Peter, the two of them sharing a knowing glance.

“Hope you wore a condom,” you say, at which MJ and Gwen gasp, both of their mouths curling into cheeky grins that you can’t help but share.

Its always been obvious that the two of them are together, even though neither of them would ever admit it. It’s weird but Gwen says it’s a part of the intrigue, having this unlabeled relationship that she can just ride without the responsibility of making it a bit deal.

Both you and MJ think it’s because she secretly likes the drama of it all, but knowing how she’d react to such a claim, neither of you says that out loud.

“Did you make it home okay?” Gwen changes the subject before anyone can even join in, making you sort of sad because you love to tease.

“Relatively. Threw up on the walk home but that’s New York, baby.”

“Walk home?” Harry questions.

You freeze, remembering Miguel. He doesn’t exist in this world. At least, not to anyone other than you and Pete and maybe MJ. You’re not entirely sure what he’s told her but you figure she knows in some capacity because he wouldn’t have called you otherwise.

“I mean drive, sorry, drive home. I’m still hungover.” You try to laugh it off but Harry and Gwen share that look. The familiar one where they think you’re lying but know better than to actually bring it up. It’s the same look they give you sometimes when you’re covering for Peter and you hate it, feeling your chest tighten every time it’s shared right in front of your face.

It reminds you of how you felt having Miguel around. Something about the way he looks at you every time you talk fills you with that familiar twang of insignificance. Like whatever you say isn’t good enough.

With your friends you know it’s because you’re insecure about your lying capabilities. With Miguel though, it’s different. Yes, it feels the same physically but emotionally it’s an entirely new set of feelings. Ones that have you second-guessing their origins, remembering the way your stomach would twist each time he’d insult you. Each time he’d look at you with those dark eyes and pouting mouth.

Thinking about it now, he reminds you very little of Peter. Aside from the moniker of Spider-Man the only similarities (so far) you can confidently say that they share is the art of sarcasm and deflection. The way their voices can become so monotonous at the drop of a hat is unparalleled, even with all the tension, and it’s frustrating.

It makes you wish you didn’t wear your emotions on your sleeve. Like Peter and Miguel, you wish you could box it all up in the form of calm words so that nobody even got the chance to look at you the way Harry and Gwen still are.

Secretly, you wish you were the spider person of this universe. Not because you want to save lives, selfishly. No, you mostly just wish you were stronger like them. Less like yourself and more like your brother who sits at the head of the table holding MJ’s hand with the biggest smile you’ve ever seen.

And not so secretly, you want what he has. You want to be confident and to have people look at you in a way that’s filled with adoration. To have them survey you and conclude that you’re decent rather than picking out your flaws. You want May to look at you with fondness. You want her to be proud of you in the same way she’s proud of Peter and to affirm your belief that you’re doing alright for yourself even without filling her desires for grandkids.

You want Harry to look at you with respect. To stop looking through you just because you’re Parker’s sister who just so happens to be smart too. You want him to take him as seriously as he takes Gwen without the sex. Without the implication that to be valued, you need to provide him with something worthwhile.

You want Gwen to appreciate everything you do for her. To stop taking advantage of you at work and in life —to provide you with the comfort of an actual friend.

You want value, you decide. Whether that’s through the gain of superpowers or not. All you want is a little bit more than you’re given and you wish you could express that as you sit at the table, watching everyone talk and laugh as if you’re not really there.

Beside you, MJ leans into Peter as he talks, resting her chin on her hand in longing silence while the two across the table sit, completely engrossed. You try your best to listen in too, picking up that the story involves his boss over at the Bugle. Something about how his last few pictures of Spider-Man were so good he nearly fell off his chair.

You fight the urge to roll your eyes and pull out your phone, scanning the screen mindlessly, clicking on apps and profiles over and over again until the waitress shows up and asks for your order. You get a mimosa regardless of your hangover and a bagel breakfast sandwich with all the extra fixings, knowing you need it. Then you wait. Wordlessly exhausted, wishing that instead of deciding to tag along you’d stayed at home under the comfort of your covers.

Once you step over the threshold of your apartment you let out a sigh of relief and sink into the couch alongside Peter who rubs his face. By now your social battery is running at a negative ten, making your mind fill with nervous thoughts that have you frowning as you curl into yourself, clutching your knees to your chest.

You shouldn’t have gone, you decide then. Regardless of the extended invitation, it was obvious you were only invited because Gwen was drunk and felt bad. That’s usually how it went nowadays.

“They’re a lot, aren’t they?”

Peter’s always known how much you struggle with people —how you overthink every interaction after it’s happened. It’s how it’s always been and he’s used to it.

As you nod, you feel his hand against your shoulder, tightening. It’s a gesture of understanding but at the moment it feels like pity so you brush him off, frowning even harder.

“You okay?”

You aren’t. You’re overstimulated from the amount of interacting you’ve done in the last twenty-four hours. From Harry and Gwen to Miguel and back you haven’t had a break all day and you can feel your mask slipping. Physically, your chest is aching for a breath you can’t quite get, the realization of your interactions pushing you over the edge and all you want to do is scream.

You were such an asshole today. Sure, you’re always kind of mean but this morning specifically felt like a step above the rest with the way you argued with Miguel as if you knew him. As if last night was just another night between you, adding to countless others. You were brash and unwelcoming and rude, and despite how you feel about him sometimes, you still feel pretty shit about it.

“Do you need anything?”

“No.”

Your tone is stubborn, dripping with an arrogance that has Pete sighing because he knows he can’t do much. When you’re in these moods all he can really do is let you live through your anger —to explore the hate you feel inside in private. It’s how you’ve always done things. So when Peter looks at you with sympathy you can know that’s it. He won’t press the matter further. He’ll just get up and leave and go to MJ’s for the night. Check-in in the morning like he usually does.

As he stands you’re met with feelings of both relief and regret, watching the way he carefully pats your head and steps over your legs. Inside, your stomach drops as he wanders to the doorway, slipping on his shoes and coat without saying a word, knowing that it never solves anything —just makes it all messy.

Again, like always, you wish you were like him in these instances. Because maybe then you could have a normal relationship that doesn’t rely on boundaries you wish didn’t exist. Instead of pushing everyone away you could sit with them —talk to them. Express instead of repress. Prove to them that the love you want is the love you deserve.

If you were in any other universe you’re certain you could do it. In this one though?

You’re too scared.

When you’re alone, it happens, the calm before the storm.

As the hours move and you lay exhausted on the couch staring at your phone, you find yourself scrolling. Distracting yourself from the inevitable breaking point by watching YouTube video after YouTube video. First, you start with your usual poison, simple documentaries about things like haunted houses or murder cases that remained unsolved. Lazily, you click thumbnail and thumbnail, half absorbing all the names and dates and details as you lie prone, trying not to think about it.

It takes hours for you to fully accept your emotions and when you do it’s a mess. Now lying in bed, it’s nearing eight and your deep dive on unsolved mysteries has turned into videos discussing the topics of the multiverse. You’re not sure why you decided to delve into all that but regardless, as you do you’re in your head again, clutching a pillow tightly against your cheek as you try to steady your thoughts.

You bet Miguel’s world has a version of you that’s nicer. One that treats him with respect. They’re probably a spider person too which is why he looks at you with such disdain every time you argue. You’re a lesser version of them —no comparison. They’re better and it drives you insane, thinking that the approval of a man you hardly know is important.

Aside from Peter, there’s absolutely nothing connecting you. You’re from different worlds both literally and figuratively, so it doesn’t matter. It shouldn’t matter.

Except that it does, doesn’t it? Deep down, regardless of how well you know one another, this man has managed to find his way inside your skin. You’re not sure when or how or why but somehow he’s always there, lingering at the back of your mind like a memory. Like he’s absent until he’s not —until something reminds you that he exists and that he thinks you’re too inexperienced to understand that he doesn’t like you.

You figure he doesn’t like you because you’re stubborn. You’re sure there are other reasons but that’s the only one that really jumps out. The way he speaks to you is a direct example of that. Changing subjects often, he doesn’t like when you push his pull. Doesn’t like when you defy his authority or pry. He wants complete and total control and when you’re around he knows he doesn’t have that. You don’t trust him enough to give it.

His version of you probably gives him whatever he wants. Probably spoils him by following him around like some lost fucking puppy. They’re probably older than you —experienced— and have the backbone of an earthworm.

He probably loves it.

Shoving your face into your pillow you let out a loud groan, letting the tears well and overflow against the fabric of your pillowcase.

It’s sudden, the storm. Erupting out of nowhere over something that shouldn’t matter. Quickly, there’s a rage that fills inside you, quietly creeping from the depths of your soul in the form of breathless gasps and shaky hands.

You turn upwards to face the ceiling, the tears coating your eyes in a layer of disarray. You can’t see anything but the blurred beige above you. Everything moves like brushstrokes across the canvas, thick and liquidy and not quite good-looking. It makes you blink in annoyance and throw your forearms over your head, trying to stop the world from letting you see or shake or feel anything other than regret.

It’s painful, the storm. It feels like a deep wound being opened back up again. All the build-up of scar tissue is there, shoved amongst the perfectly good parts. Usually, they linger there together but as the wound is peeled open by your own hand, you can feel the worst of it start to push.

As it surfaces, you can feel the catalyst begin to wake. The rate at which the chemicals in your brain begin to increase, pushing you over the edge.

It fucking hurts.

By now your wound is gaping, ripping at the base of your chest. It’s hard to breathe under all the pressure of the damaged flesh. Under all the memories of a life you once thought was good. Decent

In another universe, you hope to god you feel just like this. Like the world is caving in and you’re the last survivor. At least then you wouldn’t feel so alone —so beside yourself while everyone else so carelessly continues moving.

It helps calm the storm. Thinking of you —another you. Regardless of if they’re better or worse or completely equal to you, the thought of this feeling extending across the expanse of a place you don’t quite understand fills you with ease.

It closes the hole in your chest —pushes all the tainted flesh back inside for safekeeping. Slowly, it settles into something you can handle again, sewing up the edges that’ll inevitably leave a new scar.

As you sit up from your bed, brushing past the tears to clear your vision, you feel your breath begin to steady. A slow one-through-five inhale, followed by another one-through-five exhale, each one becoming stronger than the last as you look towards the window, noticing the familiar blue and red spandex standing silently on your fire escape.

He doesn’t move when you notice him. Doesn’t fly through the air or duck out of sight. Standing there, it’s as if instead of flesh he’s made of stone, unwavering in his attempts to watch you carefully through the window. It’s scary if you’re honest. The way he looks so detached from the world. Even without seeing his face, it’s as if there’s nothing behind the angered design that adorns his features below. His emotions feel completely blank underneath the fabric, making you wonder.

What’s he thinking about?

As you inch toward the edge of the bed, you see him twitch. It’s subtle. The fingers of his right hand sort of jolt lightly in the air, and it’s over before you can even think about it, so you don’t. Instead choosing to forget as you move towards the window.

Surprisingly, he still doesn’t move. All he does is breathe, letting the rise and fall of his chest ruin the image of his fixed stance. He’s nervous, like you, you determine. Scared, like you.

It motivates your movements, pushing you through the room until you’re standing in front of the window, reaching for it with shaky hands.

Why hasn’t he left yet?

You push open the window, slowly, watching his body begin to move towards it, his leg pushing through the moment you step away.

“What are you doing here?”

He doesn’t respond. At first, you assume it’s because he’s embarrassed and doesn’t know what to say but then he moves. Lifelessly, he brushes past you and wanders into the living room, forcing you to follow as he drops onto the couch with a groan.

Seriously, why is he here?

You open your mouth to repeat your previous question but are interrupted by his mask. Almost instantly, it disintegrates before your very eyes, revealing fresh injuries that have you holding your tongue because laying there, he looks like Peter after a rough night. Maybe even worse thanks to the shiner that takes a good portion of his left eye.

“Do you have any painkillers?”

You don’t even respond before you leave the room, wandering into your bathroom to grab the usual meds you give Peter. They’re prescription, originally given to you for period cramps, but they do wonders on a battered body.

When you reenter, Miguel’s face is scrunched in pain, struggling to find comfort. Because of this, you practically run to the kitchen, grabbing all the usual items: water, ice packs, scotch, carrying it all in one go.

“What’s the scotch for?”

You untuck a glass from the crook of your elbow and settle on the floor beside the couch, pouring it halfway to the top before downing it.

“None for me?”

You pour another one. “You’re not meant to take it with pills but Peter always says it makes him sleep better.”

“Okay.”

You’re no doctor, but you’ve experienced this same formula countless times. If he takes one pill with one full glass of water then drinks the scotch, followed by another water he’ll be out like a light in no time.

“Pill, water, scotch, water,” you instruct, watching him closely as he follows suit, chugging back everything in under a minute.

After it’s done he settles into the couch again, tucking ice packs against his face and chest before glancing your way with a grin. “Stuff’s nice. Goes down good.”

He sounds like he’s been hit by a bus, his voice rubbed raw, scratching your brain in a way that makes you squint as you pour yourself another glass.

“Good cause it cost a pretty penny.”

“Yeah?”

You nod, opting to sip this one, still feeling the burn of the other radiating throughout your chest. “Ben bought it for me. A graduation present or something.”

“Wasn’t that ages ago?”

“Your point?”

All he does is grin and close his eyes.

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#who are you when nobody's watching?#miguel o'hara fan fic #miguel o'hara fic #miguel o'hara series #miguel o'hara x female reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara angst #summer writes

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cyncerity · 2 years

Text

This was based off of an instagram meme that i think was made for women over the age of 50, but when vore inspiration strikes, you have to do something.

So, here’s this!! I may make this a series, I may not, but it may depend on if y’all even like this story or not lol

so without further ado, here’s some crimeboys noms >:)

tw: kinda implied mentions of neglect/abuse, swearing, and vore

He had to get away. Tommy couldn’t stay another day in this damn house, he felt like he was suffocating. He had to leave, somehow.

All of his things were already packed. The little he had was stored in various bags he had stolen from the attic when the thought of running away had first occurred to him. When he had first realized that he couldn’t stay in this shithole any longer.

Now to think of where. That had been his main concern. Hotels were too expensive, and god knows he didn’t have any friends who would let him stay with them.

Which left him with one option, though he was dreading it.

A few months ago, a new app had been created. A way to book “unique” temporary living arrangements with giants. It was part of some weird initiative to get humans and giants to get along better, and had fully stapled itself to the claims that some humans who lived with giants made about how being eaten could be “relaxing.”

That’s right, as awful an idea as this seemed to Tommy and almost everyone else, there was now a way to book what could qualify as the worlds weirdest airbnb within giants. Literally. Apparently some giants were completely ok with random humans using their organs as a weekend get away, because there were plenty on the app for Tommy to scroll through. And scroll he did.

He had realized a while ago that this may be the cheapest option, and had gone through the website for hours until he had found someone. Early 20s, no criminal record that he could find with a limited google search, good reviews that he could tell were mostly from humans friends that he had, but the man seemed nice enough. He ignored the paranoia that told him that this man was only cheap because he would lure Tommy to his death. That the moment he and Tommy met, it would be over, and he’d be just another missing and forgotten person. Another victim to a random giant where there’d be no proof of his death and nothing to-

No, he couldn’t afford to think like that. This had to work. And, besides, was it really worth still living if he had to be at this house any longer? As much as he hated himself for thinking it, he’d rather let this stranger be the death of him than spend another second with his abusive shit family.

Tommy had messaged him once or twice and had paid him once already just to settle the deal. He ignored the feeling of dread in his gut every time he even thought about the giant, but he couldn’t help but be nervous. After all, this man would be holding his life in him until he got his shit together enough to at least get a job. He didn’t know how long that would be, but he needed to be practically untraceable. He couldn’t risk his family finding him. He couldn’t risk being taken back home.

He sent one final text to the man about where to meet. He knew it was late, but he had warned him in advance that he was probably gonna get a text in the middle of the night, so he slowly crept out of his window and, seeing that the coast was clear, ran, not looking back.

He would never look back.

…

Tommy had arrived at the meetup spot and had been waiting for 30 minutes and, still, no sign of the giant. Ok, now that he thought about it, maybe this did seem a little suspicious. Supposing the giant was a normal ass man, getting a text saying “meet me in an abandoned Tesco parking lot” was a weird thing to receive at 2:45 in the morning. But, again, Tommy was shooting to be untraceable. He couldn’t risk anyone seeing him or his giant. Could he call this stranger “his giant?” Whatever. Tommy knew his family. He didn’t want other people to get hurt, but he couldn’t do this alone. Even if it was a stranger, he needed help.

Tommy just sat and kept thinking, thoughts spiraling into what he would do if the giant never showed up, if he actually had to do this by himself, when the ground began to shake. Tommy quickly stood up and had to strain his neck looking up to see the giant approach. And, holy shit, this fucker was tall.

Tommy had never met a giant before. Hell, almost no humans had. But from what he knew, they shouldn’t be this tall. He felt his knees begin to shake and his palms sweat as he took in the full size and image of the monster that he had hired to eat him. He had fluffy brown hair, wire rimmed glasses and a yellow sweater with a brown puffer jacket on and, weirdly enough, had a mask covering his mouth. He seemed to be hunched over, looking around for what Tommy could only assume to be him, pulling his red-brown beanie further over his head almost nervously. His eyes frantically scanned the empty lot until he found him, where he quickly made his way over as Tommy stumbled back, falling onto the ground and shaking violently from the cold and fear.

“There you are!!” the giant said, “Tommy, right? I’ve been looking all over for you! What were you thinking making this the meetup spot?!”

Tommy could barely speak. It felt like his head had been stuck in a freezer, his throat frozen and his mind muddled and cloudy, unable to form a response. “I-I..it….i- it was c- close…” he whimpered, stumbling back farther. The giant only then seemed to notice Tommy’s fear as he sighed and knelt down, trying to be more eye level as he spoke quieter. “It’s ok, kid. Fuck, you’re younger than I thought you’d be. You mean it’s close to your house, right?” Tommy nodded hesitantly and Wilbur continued. “Thought so. You probably didn’t want to haul your stuff all the way to the giant side. It’s just…i’m not technically allowed to be here.” Tommy looked up at him, confused, his breath slowing and his panic was subsiding now that the giant wasn’t towering over him and scanning the grounds for him like a fucking predator hunting it’s prey. The giant must’ve noticed his confusion, as he continued. “This isn’t a mutual territory. If i get caught here, i could get in a lot of trouble. I tried texting and calling you to tell you, given that humans don’t know a lot about the laws giants have to follow, but you weren’t responding, so i figured i’d just come and make this quick before the cops notice me.” He said. Ah, so that’s what the surgical mask was for. So the cops couldn’t recognize him. He held out a finger to Tommy, and he tried not to think about how this singular finger was taller than his whole body. “I’m Wilbur, by the way, i don’t think i ever introduced myself.” Tommy shuffled closer and grabbed the tip of the finger in an awkward attempt at a handshake. “I-I’m Tommy.”

“As nice as it is to meet you, you seem really nervous. First time?” Tommy nodded again, miraculously feeling less nervous by the second. Something about this guy, maybe his calming voice or how much more human he was than Tommy assumed he’d be, made Tommy trust him.

Or maybe it was the fact that this was the first time in a long time he had been treated with kindness. His family was barely decent to him, so this was a nice change, if an unexpected one.

“First time meeting a giant, actually.” “No offense, I can kind of tell.” Wilbur said, though there was no judgement in his voice. “Y’know, you don’t have to do this now. We could always resched-“ “No!!” Tommy shouted, interrupting the giant. “No, no, I want to, I have to, I’m out of options, please.” At that, Wilbur began to look concerned. “Tommy what do you mean ‘out of options?’ Are you ok? Do you need help?” “This is my help! Sure, maybe I’m a little bit fucking terrified, but i have nowhere else to go. I- I can’t go back, please, please, Wilby.” Tommy finished, the nickname naturally rolling off his tongue like he had known the giant his whole life. Wilbur looked at him with a vague look of concern and pity before bringing one of his giant fingers closer to Tommy’s face. Tommy didn’t even have time to react before it gently swiped across his cheek, wiping away tears he didn’t even know he had shed. “Ok, ok, i’ll help, it’s alright.” He said, giving Tommy a warm smile (he assumed; his eyes scrunched up a little near the outer edges, which seemed like a good sign he was smiling) that only slightly hid the concern still plastered on his face. And though Tommy still couldn’t see most of the aforementioned face, his eyes portrayed everything Tommy needed. Wilbur wore his heart on his sleeve; he liked that.

Tommy could have sobbed in relief as Wilbur’s words fully sunk in. He was going to get away, and the thought of finally being free was enough to drown out any more fears of what was about to happen. Wilbur then reached behind him and grabbed some of his bags, which looked ridiculously minuscule in his hand, as he brought them up to his mouth before pausing. “Do you want to go down first or do you want me to do to do these? For some people, it can be a bit nerve racking to see me swallow something first.” Tommy thought about it, then shook his head. It’s not like he wanted to see his few meager possessions disappear down the throat of a giant, especially knowing he’d have to join them, but he wasn’t gonna chicken out now. He just needed a few seconds to collect himself, and what Wilbur did with his bags in that time was none of his business.

Wilbur calmly lifted the bags back up, all of them at the same time, and slipped them under his mask. Within a few seconds, Tommy saw a vague outline slip down Wilbur’s throat, bobbing his addam’s apple a bit as they descended to where Tommy would be staying for a short while…maybe he should have gone first.

It all reminded him of a nature documentary he had seen on snakes once; he could see the outline of some poor rodent slowly trail down the snake to its final resting place.

Tommy tried not to think about that last part. After all, he’d be fine. He wasn’t prey, not to Wilbur, anyway. To his family…maybe. Not like they mattered anymore, though.

Tommy felt giddy enough at that thought that he stepped forward towards Wilbur as he watched the man press against his midsection gently, presumably to make sure Tommy’s bags had ended up in the right organ. After that confirmation, Wilbur looked back down, setting his hand palm up next to Tommy. “You ready for this, big man?” Tommy grinned at the nickname, at the way Wilbur treated him. Like a person; an equal. He grinned so hard it almost hurt. “Ready as i’ll ever be.”

Tommy felt himself be lifted and watched as Wilbur used his free hand to lift his mask just enough for Tommy to fit under and into his mouth. Tommy quickly found a perch on his lip and tried to climb in the rest of the way himself before realizing holy shit oh prime good fucking god his teeth were sharp. Wilbur made muffled cry of concern as his hand came back up under Tommy as he stumbled a bit. But, after the initial shock of the teeth being way sharper than he thought, Tommy managed to climb in the rest of the way successfully.

The mouth was hotter than he thought it would be, and way stuffier, too. He supposed the mask filtering and blocking out fresh air had something to do with that, but he didn’t have much time to deal with that before he started getting pushed around the damp, dark area. It took him a short while to realize that it was Wil’s tongue pushing him around. Tommy kicked at it a bit in discomfort, but Wil didn’t show any sign of stopping. Tommy thought about shouting to him before his rational thought kicked in; oh yeah, he’d probably have to be at least a bit damp for Wil to swallow comfortably. He stopped kicking.

He had no idea when Wilbur’s comfort in this situation became important to him. He also had no idea when the idea of being swallowed stopped being so overwhelmingly terrifying.

He soon found himself being drawn to the back of the throat, his feet entering the narrow fleshy passageway. He cringed a bit at the weird feeling before hearing a questioning hum from all around him. It felt like a huge concert where the bass boomed so loud you swore you could feel your heart vibrate. Tommy hoped it wouldn’t be that loud once he reached the storage area. “I’m good!” Tommy shouted in response, patting the now still tongue below him. After another hum signaling that Wilbur had heard him, he was quickly pulled the rest of the way into the giant’s gullet. He felt a gentle pressure from where he assumed the front of Wil’s neck was; ‘his fingers,’ Tommy thought. ‘Wil is tracing my way down with his fingers.’ The image of his luggage going down the throat crossed his mind, and he found himself mindlessly wondering what he looked like right now; if the lump he made was any bigger than his luggage. Or if to any passerby (not that there were any, he hoped) he would look inconspicuous, like some random piece of food that some random giant was eating, not a teenage boy that was probably going to be put on every missing poster and milk carton available within the next few days. That thought filled him with a giddy sort of relief. As much as people were aware that this whole swallowing thing was legal with the right permission, it still wasn’t a common thing to do unless you were one of the very few humans who had known a giant for years. No one would suspect Wilbur, just some random giant, to be housing Tommy. The plan was foolproof.

He was snapped out of his spiral of thoughts when everything around him suddenly got much louder. The heavy bass feeling was back, but this time it was in a steady, strong rhythm. Tommy realized he must have passed down under the collarbones and that he was now passing Wil’s heart, which meant he was almost-

He fell into an open area suddenly, much bigger than the mouth had been, and felt the ground below him and the walls around him vibrate with a loud gurgle. He paced around for a minute letting his eyes slightly adjust to the darkness (as much as they could, given the fact that there was no light whatsoever) before he saw a faint outline of his bags. He quickly made his way over and blindly searched for one of the flashlights he had packed. After a few more minutes of searching, he pulled it out and turned it on to reveal the pink, almost pulsating, fleshy walls. He heard a slight chuckle from above him and watched in fascination as one of the bigger walls of the pouch pushed in slightly, causing more, albeit less loud gurgles.

“I take it you found your stuff.” Wilbur said, and Tommy could hear the smile on his voice. “How could you tell?” Tommy shouted back, not knowing of Wil would even be able to hear him from there. There was another soft laugh as Tommy heard his phone vibrate from one of his bag’s pockets. He pulled it out to find it was image sent from Wilbur, showing that from the outside, there was a dim glow from his midsection, and an even fainter outline of himself. He laughed out loud, mostly in disbelief at the photo. There he was, barely a shadow to be seen through Wil’s organs. He was actually here; he’d actually done it, and that photo was undeniable proof. “Oh my god!” he shouted again, this time even looking up to the “ceiling” of the “room” as if that would help communication any better. “That looks fucking sick!” “No need to shout, child, I can hear you fine.” Wilbur responded. “I’ll tell you when you’re good to have the flashlight on or off; my family isn’t really ok with me doing these sorts of things, so let’s keep this between us, ok?” “Why not?” Tommy asked, now genuinely curious.

“Why should they? Think about this from my perspective; I just let a random teenager into my body, no background check or anything. For all I or my family know, you could be a renowned giant killer. Maybe you smuggled a knife in there and are planning to stab me from the inside out, i don’t fucking know. Of course, i don’t think you are, Tom, but it’s a hypothetical. I agreed to this with you because I like to think I’m a good judge of character, and you remind me too much of me when i was younger to not like you. But now I have to go about things way more carefully; I can’t fall, I can’t lay down without telling you first, I can’t store what I normally do, it can get a bit overwhelming, y’know?”

Tommy hadn’t even thought about that. How all of this was affecting Wilbur. He looked down at himself, placing a hand on his own stomach.

God, what is Wilbur feeling right now? Can he feel Tommy walk around? Can he feel him breathe? He had no idea how he would go about being entirely responsible for the life of an entire other person, but he was making Wilbur do it. He felt a little bit like an asshole now. “If it’s so much of a hassle, why do it? And why do it so cheap?”

“It’s…kinda complicated. A lot of it is to help giants and humans get along. I want people to see my species better, I want a human’s first experience with a giant to be good. I have a lot of human friends, so i like to think I know how to talk and act around you guys. But, my friends are another part of it. I, uh, you mind if this gets a little bit weird for a second? I’ve been told this can be a little bit of an awkward topic for humans.”

Well, that was a way to pique Tommy’s curiosity if there ever was one. “Go on, big man, and, if it makes you feel better, you made my first interaction with a giant go great.”

Wilbur laughed again, and he heard genuine happiness in his voice as he thanked him and then continued on with the explanation. “It’s just, uh, humans..taste good. Like, better than you’d expect. I read that it was something different about a giant’s taste buds or something, but humans taste good. Also, i generally just…like the feeling of having people in my storage. As weird as that may be.”

“What did i taste like?” Tommy asked, not a hint of concern or distrust coloring his voice. “…strawberries, maybe a bit of vanilla cream. Sweet, and a little bit bitter, like some odd mix of dark and white chocolate, all covering a strawberry.” Wilbur answered, and Tommy could practically hear the man licking his lips before he piped up again. “I’m so sorry, that’s probably weird to hear, I didn’t mean to go into that much detail, it’s just-“ “No worries, big man, I’m glad i was delicious enough that you’re getting embarrassed talking about it. Boosts my self esteem, and also gives me plenty to make fun of you for later.” He heard Wilbur laugh out loud, the joyful sound vibrating the chamber around him. “Alright, remind me I have to get some dirt on you eventually. But, as it stands now, I should probably get the fuck out of the human territory before I actually get arrested. I don’t know how human cops would do that, but i’m sure there’s some kind of procedure i don’t want to see. So we’ll have to stop talking for a bit here while I walk back to the giant side to get my car, then I can drive us home.” “Sounds good, Wilby.” Tommy said, and he could hear a snort of laughter above him, but no verbal response. Oh, this would be so much fun, Wilbur was so easy to tease. For the first time in a long time, Tommy was glad that that hell of a house never stripped Tommy of his Tommy-ness. That no matter the strain or fear or pain, his sarcasm and unique sense of humor remained.

As he felt the gentle swaying of his “room” caused by Wilbur’s walking, he gently sat to the floor and let himself bask in the reality that he was free. Sure, there was still a bit left to do to ensure that he’d stay free, but for right now, he was happy here with Wilbur; with this giant stranger who treated him better than his so-called family ever had.

He felt tears of relief and more than anything joy pour down his face as he sobbed quietly, trying not to alert Wil. He didn’t want him to think something was wrong when it was really quite the opposite. For the first time in so, so long, things were looking up. He was safe. He was cared for.

Tommy had never been happier.

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tsaritsa · 5 months

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Congratulations on winning Nano!!! Any hot takes or unconventional tips on how to achieve a huuuge milestone like that in so little time?

Also, if you'd like to share, I'd love to hear more about the piece(s) you worked on during this year's event! Big yay if you want to tease us with a sneak peek as well. 🙂

Congratsss again!!!

ty!!!! i am afraid my tips might seem kind of obvious and not that much of a hot take but here's what worked for me:

writing sprints. do 10 min. do 17 min. do 30 min. whatever it is, just get words down on the page. after each sprint was finished i'd look at what i wrote, fix up the most glaring mistakes (espe if the words looked terrible. i've learned to live with a lot of spelling errors bc otherwise u waste too much time. during nano each day i'd prolly manage between 2-3 sprints -- usually enough to net me between 1000-1500 words each day. i wouldn't stop if i hit the daily total, i'd stop when i could feel the motivation waning. my lowest day was under 300 words, my biggest was just over 4000.

get a community. writing sucks alone. i feel very grateful that i've made some friends on here who were also trying to write regularly, so now there's 5 of us in a little discord i've made. we do sprints with each other and share lots of snippets, memes, pretty pictures etc. it keeps us excited about our own projects, but also allows us to cheerlead each other on.

get used to placeholders. i use TK. anytime there's a word i need but it's not on the tip of my tongue? TK my beloved. sometimes i'd write like she sighed in a TK kind of way, or like harry opens his mouth to argue about TK TK some work thing he's doing TK TK. it just keeps u in the pace of writing ur in, but allows for a few words to be spent writing down a piece that needs further expansion.

establish habits and goals. for me, it's stuff like trying to write the bulk of my writing with a nice candle lit, but also the silly stuff like putting on lippy so I feel like. Ready to do shit. have a few drinks avail. one to hydrate (ice cold) one to caffeinate (also ice cold). play music or sounds that will help u get into the zone without overly distracting. now that i've won it i'm gonna treat myself to some silly purchases as well bc i should reward myself for such hard work and dedication. i'm thinking a v comfy hoodie.

overall if i didn't have the community i had this month i think my external motivation would've been lost quickly, so find friends to yell at about ur project. watch yt videos about ppl doing writing! make posts and don't give a flying fuck about being cringe or not suiting ut 'aesthetic'. this is u. do it for U.

in terms of this project: the short version is hermione goes back to hogwarts post book 7 and has to slowly begin to recover from/learn to live with the PTSD she's gained. alas, draco is also back and she's gotta learn to make peace with the fact that he's allowed to want to change and that he's making small steps to become a better person than who he was. they're gonna kiss and be disgusting with each other. ultimately this is a story about hermione's journey, as the whole thing is written from her perspective, so although the dhr aspect is there, there are also other important relationships i want to focus on -- especially her and harry.

i'm ignoring/expanding on a lot of canon, and using some details from the movies i prefer over the books (namely her mudblood scar bc mmmmm parallels). i don't really know if anybody is in character but i don't care! this is my story and i'll do it how i see fit haha.

the following excerpt comes from late sept in the current draft. at this point dhr has been forced together a few times already. draco has surreptitiously managed to drug slughorn with a potion of his (slughorn's) own making during their potions class bc the potions professor was spending an entire lesson just showing off instead of. u know. teaching.

#ask #live by the cringe die by the cringe #i'm seriously thinking about starting a little vlog journey for this so i can just keep myself even more motivated haha #ty for the ask!!!! basically u just gotta write. doesn't matter how bad it is. it counts!

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badassxbirdy · 9 months

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Edit: Mobile nav is here. Blog maintenance may have temporarily broken the link in the description box. 😅

August Activity Update (Pinned Post)

It’s time once again for an activity update! If you’re new here: these monthly posts help me to keep track of what the frick I’ve been doing, particularly when tumblr breaks or the brainfog strikes. This update includes things posted or in drafts for the month of July, as well as the first three days of August as I’m a little late. Everything else can be found in previous monthly updates under this tag. There’s also the thread tracker here.

The full activity update (along with OOC house keeping) is below the cut. Bold text = links.

If you want to see all IC interactions without the other stuff, click here. If you’d like to start something new, there are opens, memes, and the wishlist, or you can just hit up the DM’s. You can also add Ty on Wire for IC texting.

Now onto the update!

OOC Housekeeping

@innerwar has just released a book! Check out the deets here for Amazon, or here if you prefer google books!

I’m giving the blog a clean and tidy. That includes clearing out the likes, so ignore it if you get any random likes on older posts. I occasionally double click by mistake.

Apologies for the huge dip in quality lately. Ditto the quantity! I’m beginning to feel a little more like myself than I have for quite a while, so hopefully this will improve things! 😅

Thank you for the kind words regarding the loss of the oldest pooch. People have been lovely, and I cannot tell you how much I appreciate the support. ❤️

Threads, replies, and other IC interactions:

(In alphabetical order by username)

At the motel. (link) - @demcnsinmymind

Azzy proves a point. 👀 (drafted, and I am screaming over this whole interaction!) - @demcnsinmymind

Drunk!Ty being her silly self. (drafted) - @demcnsinmymind

Taking Lance on a hunt! (drafted) - @demcnsinmymind

Car trouble (buried somewhere in the depths of the queue. I’ll find it and yeet it to the top asap! ❤️) - @demcnsinmymind

Damon shields Ty, Ty is ANGY. (link) - @derschwarzeengel

Werewolf problems. (link) - @derschwarzeengel

The idiots reconcile. (link) - @derschwarzeengel

Ty encounters Vampire!Damon. (link) - @derschwarzeengel

The children are bickering again. 😂 (link) - @derschwarzeengel

“She’s a ghost AND a bitch!” (drafted) - @derschwarzeengel

Universe differences (drafted) - @derschwarzeengel

Damon encounters dark!Ty (drafted) - @derschwarzeengel

Judging 50 shades (drafted) - @derschwarzeengel

Ken in France means… (link) - @derschwarzeengel

“This isn’t what it looks like.” (drafted) - @discipulusmaleficus

“Tell me— What is your day job?” (link) - @first-born-to-his-name

Ty is about to die of embarrassment. ☠️ RIP. (link) - @heavenguided

Meeting the captain. (link) - @hvbris

Ty is massively confused by Wednesday. 😂 (link) - @hvbris

Human!Ty and FBI!Fish (buried somewhere in the depths of the queue, I’ll find it and yeet it to the top asap! ❤️) - @imprvdente

Mischief at the fair (drafted) - @indyflanery

Bad jokes with Charm (link) - @innerwar

Monster encounter (drafted) - @lcbcshcart

Demon problems (link) - @magaprima

Demon problems part 2: electric boogaloo (drafted) - @magaprima

“I totally didn’t do what you think I did.” (link) - @pantslessoptimism

Leaving the compound. (link) - @razorfst

Drafts: 11

Memes/Asks: 13

Headcanon, dash games, and assorted silliness:

Tyler needs everyone to know what “kenning” means. (link)

I think that’s everything! As always: please let me know if I’ve missed something. I never intentionally drop threads without notifying, rest assured that if it’s not here I simply have not seen it. Remember to be kind to yourselves, and stay safe! ❤️ — Em

#activity update #pinned post

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etraytin · 1 year

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First Lines of Fic Game

First-lines-of-fic meme! Tagged by @beingatoaster!

Rules: share the first lines of ten of your most recent fanfics and tag ten people. If you have written fewer than ten, don’t be shy and share anyway

Whoo, it's been awhile since I did ten fic, but let me dip into the archives here. Most of what I've been writing lately is Minecraft stuff because it is kind of fun to play in a universe where all the physics are made up and the biology doesn't matter. Here we go! (I have decided to take the concept of "first lines" very liberally and go with sort of "first idea of the fic.")

Number 1: We Could Be Sleeping in the Flowers (Hermitcraft) It could be worse, Grian thought to himself as he grimly scaled the wall of his base to attach another few strands of glow lichen. He could have come down with much worse diseases.

Number 2: This Heart of Mine That's Guilty, Not Remorseful (Hermitcraft) “I’m sorry, Grumbot,” Father whispered, and Grumbot didn’t understand. In the darkness of predawn, his sensors could barely detect the small Player crouching under the screen that made up Grumbot’s “face.” Other Father did most of the maintenance on Grumbot, but he could sense the faint discomfort that was someone meddling with his interior components.

Number 3: After One or Two False Starts, I Believe We've Found Our Stride (Double Life) “So do you and Scott still have something going?” Tango asked one night.

Number 4: Do You Know How To Go To The Heaviside Layer? (Double Life) Pearl should’ve just ignored the noise from the forest. She had so much to do! Her precious doggies were well-fed for now, thanks to the meat rotting in Ren and BigB’s abandoned home, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t still time for hunting!

Number 5: Set You Sailing From My Harbor (Double Life) Grian went to Scar in the first quiet moment he could find that first day, the first moment he was sure that the implacable attention of their audience was turned elsewhere.

Number 6: Put Out All Your Strength of Arm and Heart and Brain (Double Life) Pearl woke to the sound of Tilly barking. That was odd in itself, since Tilly rarely barked, but what could be bothering her inside their own base?

Number 7: I Hope You Blink Before I Do (Double Life) Pearl told herself that being alone wasn’t so bad. It wasn’t as though she needed a partner for a simple survival world anyway. She’d done this dance a thousand times on her own.

Number 8: Brick By Brick and Heart By Heart (Hermitcraft, Third Life) The swamp was peaceful at night, Grian thought. Maybe not all swamps but this one certainly was, just a little wedge of nature left tucked between Larry the Snail and the magical village.

Number 9: Isolated Cases (The West Wing) “Does my face look flushed to you?” Josh demanded. “Well, you’ve been yelling for the past ten minutes, so...” Donna pointed out. Josh frowned, leaning closer to his laptop. “No, I’m being serious. Do I look flushed to you? I feel hot.”

Number 10: Cause Problems on Purpose (The Good Place, Untitled Goose Game) It was another perfect day in the Good Place, seventy degrees and sunny, no clouds, no bugs, and no pollution. Around a thousand years ago Janet had changed the neighborhood algorithm to allow for occasional rainy days and a month here and there of perfect summer, autumn or winter, but for the most part the Good Place was a world of beautiful late spring weather.

There's a real big jump in time there between numbers 8 and 9, because I basically didn't write at all after the start of the pandemic (except that one particular fic) until spring of 2022 when the writing bug bit again. Number 1 is a WIP that has been lingering for months now since my mom had her stroke and life got real weird again for awhile, but I'm planning on finishing it up very soon. There is more writing to be done!

Let's see, I'm gonna tag @smallblueandloud and @tanoraqui and @stars-inthe-sky and anybody else who wants to take a little walk down Fic Memory lane. It's fun!

#my fanfiction #i didn't realize i wrote so much hermitcraft and double life smp fic #i guess because they were mostly short little one-shots #once i was reassured there is basically no rpf in either of those fandoms my brain started vrooming along with stories #the little block folks are a lot of fun

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royaletiquette · 2 years

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𝐓𝐄𝐍 NINE 𝐐’𝐒:

1. When are you usually online?

In the afternoon and late into the night at the moment due to work schedules. Literally this time last year I was getting off of work around the time I'm getting out of bed now. But I'm always lurking, watching videos or streams while playing a game or working.

2. What verses are you involved in?

None? I’m not in any fandoms and I’ve never been compelled to create a verse for Hibi to fit into a specific media. I feel comfortable with the current selection I have now to morph those if need be to fit other’s. I only had the main verse in the past so it’s nice mixing it up a little, though.

3. What is your biggest RP pet peeve?

I guess someone consistently being on and active on the timeline but only writing with a one or two people. It just feels rude when it continues for months to the point of it being a theme. Like being invited to watch my friends play while I sit and pretend to tie my shoes. I don’t even care if you reply to a thread 8 months late if you at least vaguely acknowledge prompts or memes and aesthetics that I’ve dm’d you. By then it’s like, ok have fun, I’m gonna go find people that wanna pass the ball to me every now and then too.

Also muns that don’t understand that your muse doesn’t have to be and yes, but you do. Like I get it, Hibiya hates a lot of people. He’s a selfish, fake little dude. That’s why you work together to create situations that force muses interact.

4. Are you drawn to specific types of muses?

In terms of writing myself, none specific. Probably blissfully ignorant characters. Hibi’s the only muse I write and other people I come up with I just save for DND. In terms of writing with, I adore OCs because canon muses make me feel like I’m on thin ice half the time. Honestly this might just be a concern from back in the day? But I need to be told where you muse comes from and the rules of that universe, not just a little bio of likes and dislikes. You can be a naruto muse all day, but I don’t know more than there’s a 1 through 9 tails thing and that one really good opening song. So I get very worried it’ll be assumed I know who it is just because most people know your muse’s canon because it’s from popular enough media, cause I promise I don’t.

5. Are there reoccurring themes in your writing that people might not notice?

I don’t think? If anything, I feel like my writing partners point out themes that I don’t even notice. History repeats itself, coming of age to an extent, identity. I’ve said it recently but I’d love to explore more themes through Hibiya’s work like corruption through power and good verses evil type of deal, but I have to figure out the right situation/people for that cause I don’t know.

6. What are your favourite RP trends?

I think one thing that feels really different and cool now, compared to when I stopped writing cause school, I feel like everyone just has so much love and investment in one another’s OCs. I see a lot of posts that was like “back in my day, reblog karma, rarara,” but like, I don’t remember partners sending memes and shit unless it was for jokes, let alone unprompted headcanon asks and multi paragraph prompts. Maybe it’s just the small part of this community I’ve shoved myself in, but everyone just seems to really care about the world of another’s muse, whether it effects theirs or not. And I think that’s the sweetest thing.

Oh I also love mobile friendly about and rule pages. That's really sexy and cool, especially when it’s not a google doc.

8. How do you feel about duplicates?

Honestly, I would kill to see another fleshed out Hibiya. In the past, there were a handful for sure but I can honestly only think of one that stayed around for more than a few months. The kiss of death I think is only/mainly interacting within the fandom, which I feel is why there are no duplicates. Back in the day there were enough of us, but once the shipping was kinda said and done, they left. I feel like that’s the main reason why I continue to be inspired by Hibi compared to other people that write/wrote him, because I am rarely writing with fandom-preestablished relationships.

9. How long have you been involved in roleplaying?

2013? I wrote Izaya privately for like a year and then brought Hibiya to tumblr.

10. Is there a muse or verse you could write in, but haven’t?

I’m so boring, I’m not really into any fandoms, even Durarara’s honestly, so I can’t think of the last time I felt drawn to throw myself into a character or setting that wasn’t Hibi’s. If anything, I’d love to better fully realize the people in their lives. Their parents, kids, some maids, people in their nobility, just make their world feel more alive, but also to feel more comfortable writing those people as NPCs. Which I’ve been giving a lot of thought to lately and hope to eventually create a small bio for everyone. For no one else but myself really.

If there was any other muse I could write, I can see myself writing an historical figure. Couldn’t tell you who cause I dunno, but like, centuries old, the type of person where most of what we know is hearsay.

Tagged by @nezumivc103221

#i stalked back to try and find number 7 and no one has it LOL #honestly with the pet peeves thing #ive never really cared if it takes a while to reach out and start plotting #cause i know im slow if i dont immediately get a spark #but i wanna write with someone i see as a friend and vise versa

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akuzeisms · 1 year

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GET TO KNOW THE AUTHOR

NAME: Sera/Seraphina

PRONOUNS: She/her

PREFERENCE OF COMMUNICATION: Tumblr IMs, or Discord if you have my Discord. I don't give out my discord openly, only to those I chat regularly with on Tumblr. You're welcome to ask, but understand that I may say no until a later date when I feel comfortable doing so.

NAME OF YOUR MOST ACTIVE MUSE(S): Ashley (at virmireisms) & Katrina (on this blog). I'm also relatively active on Miranda (solheimisms) and Alisa (furyisms) as well. I check all 4 blogs regularly, usually a few times a day, but I check from Ashley's most often (and usually only hop over to the other blogs to either do replies or send memes directly from their blogs).

EXPERIENCE/HOW LONG (MONTHS/YEARS?): I've been roleplaying since 2006 or so, so I've got well over 15 years. However, I have only been on tumblr since late 2021 or so, specifically in the Mass Effect fandom since February 2022.

PLATFORMS YOU'VE USED: Email, Userplane/Cbox/Chatango (yeeeears ago), forums, Twitter (and I will never go back), and Tumblr. I've also dabbled in D&D a bit, though I haven't played in years (only played 3.5 and 5e, and my last experiences were... unpleasant to say the least, so I'm hesitant to play again unless it's with IRL friends).

BEST EXPERIENCE: Honestly? Joining Tumblr. That's not to say I haven't met a few unpleasant people (who hasn't?) but for the most part, it feels good to have my creativity respected and given the love it deserves. I felt like on other platforms a lot of that was dying out, but it seems in general on Tumblr people actually love that kind of thing. It's refreshing. It feels amazing to have people that I can talk to regularly about our muses and just have fun with.

RP PET PEEVES/DEALBREAKERS: Multiple spacing on replies (around punctuation to separate it a little is fine, but every word is a no-go) because it causes me eyestrain. Tiny icons (same reason tbh). Excessively formatted replies (it's distracting to me/detracts from the writing). Also, people who don't fill out my interest tracker, especially if I fill out THEIRS. I don't mind if you take the time to interact with me and don't fill it out (& some people have it listed in their rules that they don't and that's fine) but my blogs aren't follow-for-follow. I want to interact if I follow. I assume you've read my rules, & if you don't fill it out, you've chosen to ignore my rules, and that is a problem. You're certainly not obligated to interact with all of my blogs, but at least one of them.

FLUFF, ANGST, OR SMUT: All of the above. I'd say it goes in the order of angst (I'm a sucker for hurt/comfort tbh), smut, and fluff. However, I like there being kind of a mix of things, like a sort of ebb and flow; I can't handle just straight, constant angst; there needs to be breakpoints in the thread to make it flow more naturally, because if there's just too much of one thing, it becomes repetitive and boring.

PLOTS OR MEMES: Both. If we're writing muses from the same verse and/or you have a Mass Effect AU, then memes are great, but if you don't have one/don't know a lot I do prefer plots just to hash something out and have something to work with, and then we can go from there. I like having a general idea of how our muses know each other or would interact to work from for sending memes so that we're kind of on the same page.

LONG OR SHORT REPLIES: Medium to long. Short replies (1-2 lines) I find very difficult to reply to because there's so little to work with. Medium (2-3 paragraphs average, I'd say) is fine to me, though I'll admit I prefer long. As long as it's within 2-5 paragraphs, that's honestly my comfort zone. I tend to reply to longer threads faster than I do short threads.

BEST TIME TO WRITE: Late at night. I'm a night owl, so I'm that person who'll crank out a bunch of things into the queue in a 2-3 hour timespan from like... 9pm to 12am. Sometimes I can get up early and do a few, but late at night is where I thrive.

ARE YOU LIKE YOUR MUSE(S)?: Not really. My muses are influenced/like me in small ways, like... Ashley's favourite flower is dahlias because I really like dahlias, she likes yogurt parfaits because I like yogurt parfaits, but it's generally small things like that which I can relate to. Personality-wise, no, they're not like me.

TAGGED BY: @pessimistics TAGGING: @frstwomn @wcsea @diewithaname @inadxquacy & anyone who'd like to steal!

#dash games. ❖﹙ don't deny you're petrified ⋄ like you're looking at the living dead. ﹚#I think I've done this a few times but I've had some new followers so it's worth doing again for sure!

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princess-pill-enjoyer · 2 years

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Ah.. I won't lie.. I've honestly went off the deep end ever since that 1.6 dose. I don't know what it is specifically but it has been ROUGH tryna act regular atp. I don't want to talk to anyone, I don't really want to eat and when I do it's like I want everything all at once, I fucked up my sleep schedule right before I started my training.. Bruh like. All that shit ain't even what's upsetting me. It's just the dumb junk I've been doing as a result of my head.

I know it's kinda a multitude of things. Knowing that I can take a whole month's worth of benadryl in a single dose with no one noticing any difference has got me overthinking. On one hand, learning what all I can get away with by plain being quiet and not fussing even when I should has been nice. I don't know what it is about i but knowing that I used to only have a good 5-7 hours until they'd figure out I dipped which is now somewhere around 15-24 hours is comforting to me. But at the same point, it's kinda weird to look on. I know if we weren't as distant with each other this shit'd never fly

I've taken a damn near week long break from dph too and even then I had no real feeling of like.. Oh yay. I've been sober!!!1!1!!!1

It doesn't feel any diff than normal tbh. Whether I get high or not I do more of the same Plus, with the risk factor pretty much being nonexistent nowadays, I don't even have that to make my sober days stand out. It's all a blur atp. I even took 750 last night and woke up completely forgetting it even happened til I saw I left the top of my pills by accident

Plus all that and R has been blowing me off for the last like month or so. I've been tryna be patient and take no offense to it cause I get where she's coming from. She lost someone that was supposed to be around for good. I know it hurts still. But at the same point, I feel like such an outsider nowadays and I don't know how to react anymore. She unadded me months ago on the platform we orignally met/played together on which while at the time stung, I've grown to be okay with cause we've kinda went on two different paths gamewise. We weren't really playing togther no way you know ? But then it's like.. it started to happen again and again after the breakup was official.

She unadded me on insta and she turned off notifs anywhere else I'd reach out as well. And she's been mostly ignoring me for damn near a month now. I remember way back on her birthday I texted as sooon as 12:00 hit so I'd be the firsst to say it more than likely which she never said anything to. That was fine tbh, I didn't even realize she never said anything to that until after she ignored another text about a week later. By that point we were already not really talking but she semi started again after I sent her birthday gift but once that wore off we were barely talking again just like how it was before. I was tryna make sure she knew I wasn't mad or anything so I just sent a simple Hi I love you thinking nothing of it. Usually even if she goes ghost she'd text back within a few days or so but it's been damn near 2 weeks now

It all wouldn't be as hurtful if it were a mutual thing all of her friends were experiencing. But it's just me. She started back talking with an old (and honestly lowkey toxic) friend that she stopped talking to due to her partner not really liking their friendship. But she ran right back to her after the fact and ever since it feels like she's left me in the dust. She's following a few of her other rekindled friends and even started adding people back on the plat we met on again. But even with that, she still ignores me.. I've reached out in almost every platform we have each other on and a good 80% of that gets ignored. I genuinely don't know what to do for her now. She told me she felt uncomfortable with me checking in, so I stopped. I tried to just talk about random stuff, she ignores it. I tried to just send videos and memes, she'd either ignore or respond so late that I've forgotten I've even sent it. On the rare times she's the one that reaches out, it's not really conversational.. I don't really know how to explain that

It's making me feel so abandoned. She used to talk about how much she missed the toxic friend and how she's helped her in the past when no one else could. I guess that with the combo of everything else makes me feel like she doesn't need me anymore. it'd just make sense. All the times she's played me, all the times she's gotten upset at how I talk to her, seeing her going back to talking again with the only being exception of me not being there all makes it seem obvious. I feel really horrible for putting her in that position if that's the case. I would've ignored her earlier so she wouldn't feel as much guilt about not wanting me around. I hate that since I couldn't read the writing on the wall I more than likely made her feel so bad. It hurts that I wasn't what she needed/wanted anymore but it hurts worse knowing how long I dragged her along our friendship. She's really sweet you know? I know it probably hurt to have to do all this to get the point across

Ah that one was longer than the other two major influencers but I'm sure you understand why. None of them is what specifically is making me feel this way. Even slowly losing R. It stings a lot but.. we are our own people. I don't think it'd be right for me to base my entire self worth on person's opinion of me. But I'd be naive to act like it hasn't been a massive weight on my mood as well

It feels so off nowadays. Everything coming together like this.. all the smaller shit along the way.. I am just kinda. Here. I don't even know what to describe this feeling as. I want to cry, but it won't make me feel any better. I want to come clean, but it won't really solve anything (if it doesn't just make it worse tbh), I want to ask R what's up but I'm just tired. It feels like I'm always fighting and camouflaging to match what everyone wants from me. I've sat here and held back so many angry/sad texts to R purely cause I know why she's acting the way she is. Even though she's hurting me, I don't want to hurt her too. But having her become yet another person I have to heavily think on every move for.. It's all become too much. I just want to go ghost and pretend like this part of my life and all my previous family and friendships never happened. Just start all over somewhere new

I've been just barely resisting the urge to indulge in some only slightly better sh that I used to do in the past.

Content warning: specifics on self harm

this'll be the end of the note so you can just skip the rest if you don't wanna hear specifics on that

I've kinda been had an urge to cut again. I cut on my upper thighs so it's very easy to hide which has led me to going too hard on it in the past. I used to wear almost exclusively skinny jeans as well so the pain from my jeans being pressed on/rubbing against my wounds made me really like doing it. But nowadays I've been kinda iffy on it. I don't wear as much form fitting clothes + 9 times out of 10 dph does all that and more with no scars to worry bout either. I've done it once a few months back and ever since I think about it a whole lot but I've kept myself from bothering to for the most part. But tonight.. I don't know what came over me. I was just sitting there. I was so upset but I couldn't think of anything to even ease that. I was just kinda stoically looking around my room. But right before I started writing, I was finally gonna cave. It felt weird. I guess I'm glad I started writing then but at the same point.. it feels weird knowing that I was right at the cusp of crossing that bridge again

I'm done now. I don't know what else to say and I feel as thought if I try to go into more specifics than that this whole thing will be a mile long. I'm just gonna go to sleep

#dph #benadryl #diphenhydramine #dph addiction #vent

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prettyboyhub · 3 years

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[ suna rintarō ] with a s/o who acts just like him

- he’s probably baffled at first

- maybe even offstandish???

- and you return the side-eye he gives you

- cuz what’s his problem?

- my guess is you’re very introverted but the twins think you’re cool and forcefully adopt you

- once suna hears you make sarcastic comments to the twins, you begin to amuse him

- your tired expression mirrors his perfectly

- at first he thinks you’re copying him

- his demeanor, style, interests, and witty remarks

- but no, you’re really just like that

- you’re both independent and seem unbothered by one another, so you never really talk

- until atsumu adds you to the second year group chat

- it went a little something like this:

atsumu: i’m adding y/n to the gc

you & suna (at the same time): why

suna: …jinx

you: no but like why am i here 🤨

atsumu: because, as your best friend-

you: you’re not my best friend

atsumu: AS YOUR BEST FRIEND

atsumu: you have to meet our close friend suna

- sorry that was so long

- anyways,

- you and suna stay up way later than the other second years

- you guys overrun the gc late at night, sending memes, songs, and just clowning the twins

- eventually osamu tells you to text outside of the gc cuz its 4am and he’s waking up from the notifications

- so you start talking privately

- and you never stop

- for months its just one long conversation that carries on to the next day

- you hang out during practice, maybe you even become the manager

- you guys start walking home together every day

- the twins think its sus

- so they follow you guys

- but you guys are just listening to your own music, walking next to each other

- just enjoying each other’s company, really

- the miya twins just thought it was kinda weird and let it go

- but unbeknownst to them, suna can’t stop thinking about you

- every little thing reminds him of you

- the rain, a movie you recommended on netflix, seeing your favorite food at the store

- he hates it

- the vulnerability of caring about you

- he tries to distance himself from you

- and his life kinda sucks when you’re not around

- you notice, but think he just wants some alone time

- you think he dropped you </3

- so you don’t really say much to him

- until you run into him, skating around town

- “suna, you skate too :D”

- you look so cute, smiling up at him

- he can’t ignore you any longer

- so you skate together almost every day

- he even shows you his secret hang out spot

- it makes your heart melt that he shared his hideaway with you

- the whole team notices how close you’re getting

- and they have questions

- but you and suna just brush it off as being best friends

- atsumu is so hurt

- and you both try to convince yourself that you’re nothing more than best friends

- and never acknowledge how you feel

- but you both feel the need to be closer

- whether you play with his hair

- or his arm is slung lazily around your shoulder

- or the train is suddenly “too loud” so he puts his face right near yours

- its so subtle that no one really notices

- except for you guys

- eventually you don’t feel right if you’re not close to him

- and he feels the same

- he invites you over to his house

- you guys just lay in bed with each other, a shitty movie playing on the tv

- but you’re so painfully aware of his body pressed against yours that you can’t focus on the movie

- “stop staring at me weirdo”

- “shut up ugly”

- you bicker constantly, to both of your amusement

- but you’ve never felt more comfortable in your life

- you usually get grossed out when people touch you????

- you don’t give men the time of day

- but suna,,,

- he’s different

- you try to tell him, and you’re still cuddling

- “suna?”

- “don’t call me that. i’m rintarō to you”

- “okay. rin?”

- “you don’t have to say it, i already know… me too.”

- and you lay there in silence,

- both so content

- and it’s a silent assumption that you’re his

- and he’s yours

- and you’re both enjoying the other’s presence

- you guys don’t tell anyone

- you prefer to keep things lowkey

- and its so nice and private

- until one day he calls you babe in front of the team

- uh oh

- you’re caught

- atsumu is so hurt pt. 2

- how could his best friends do this???? behind his back????

- but it was so obvious from the start

- you and suna were made for each other

#haikyuu #atsumu miya #osamu miya #inarizaki headcanons #suna headcanons #suna x reader #suna rintaro fluff

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http-konoha · 3 years

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haikyuu!! as questionable classmates headcanon pt. 1

as always, this might not make sense as i’m always writing this late at night right when my mind is fuzzy lmao. anyways, enjoy!

here is pt. 2 (aoba johsai, date tech, shiratorizawa), pt. 3 (nekoma, fukurodani) !!

KARASUNO

daichi

to avoid making small talks with people he recognize, sometimes he would do the naruto run from the bathroom to his classroom, thinking that people wouldn’t recognize him if he did the run.

sugawara

took out his phone in class and started watching the 3 hour long hamlet live action play with volumes up and then said “i need to see if this gives me the will to live. to be or not to be”

asahi

stood up in the middle of class, slapped himself on the cheek and excused himself to go to the bathroom.

shimizu

during self-study time, she wore headphones and blasted heavy metal so loud that everyone around her could hear it. is she okay? she’s a manager of the volleyball team, how is she okay?

nishinoya

did backflips in the hallway to impress the girls from the class beside them and got his slipper stolen by his friend. both got called to the teacher’s office and is banned from sitting next to each other in class.

tanaka

is the friend. also, he would immediately take off his shirt whenever pe is next, even before the girls could get out and change in their respected classrooms. he is trying to appeal to them and have a gf. he just wants affection

ennoshita

accidentally falls asleep in class and would randomly shout and get mad because usually nishinoya and tanaka would appear in his dreams, doing a bunch of stupid things, embarrassing him and the rest of the volleyball team. his own scream would wake him up, and as the whole class stares at him, he’d clear his throat, mutter an apology and pretends that nothing happened.

kinoshita

plopped onto the ground like a sim whose stats are at its lowest. he does this at least once in six months, and sometimes his friends would copy him and kinoshita would plop onto the ground in embarrassment. his butt would still be sticking up like a sim

narita

whenever he’s freaking out he’d say “aahh i want to pull all my hair out. ...wait.” every single time. it’s not annoying, it’s just funny how he says it without thinking.

kageyama

made tea in the middle of class. he literally has a thermos of hot water, tea sachet and fresh fruits to mix in his drink. he gave up on class and even the teacher got interested in the tea he was making.

hinata

he had to present in class with his laptop but he forgot to change his wallpaper. it was a minion meme that said “exercise? i thought you said extra fries!”

tsukishima

had a heated discussion with the science teacher about evolution that ended up being 30 minutes long. now the teacher fears having him raise his hand in class and would ignore him occasionally.

yamaguchi

put his whole fist in his mouth during a calculus exam. i have no words. i can this boy do that out of nervousness

yachi

during finals week, she took out her textbooks, notebooks, a cutting board, knife and onion. she cried through lunch time.

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newtonsheffield · 3 years

Note

You mention how Edwina is the sweet princess but I feel like Kate is also truly loved by the people, they just maybe take a while to warm up to her.

Can we see a snippet of Kate being the Queen of everyone’s hearts like we know she would be and Anthony hyping her up the entire time?

Just you know to compensate for the angst today?

You don’t have to, of course but it’d be nice to read is all 🤗

Oh, Kate is definitely loved by the people by the time her coronation comes round because of a few things that happen during a televised event in two chapters time.

Make no mistake, the Royal family of Genovia is very well loved amongst the public and honestly, while they had thought Kate's relationship with Anthony might be a PR disaster, it turned into pretty well the opposite, let's take a look.

(I'm trying real hard not to spoil anything but some things might slip through and I'm sorry )

"Are you sure this is a good idea, Sophie?" Anthony said nervously to the woman currently flitting around behind his chair, directing a lighting technician with startling efficiency.

"We've been over this, Anthony. Yes. All of my ideas are good, and if you question another of them, I'll tell your mother what really happened to steal you from your engagement party." Sophie looked pointedly at Anthony, whose cheeks flushed as he thought about how Kate had felt, moving against him in the water of the fountain.

"How do you-?"

"I know everything that happens in this palace Anthony." Sophie said dismissively, "Also, Kate told me."

He could see Kate smirking across the room as her make up team flitted around her, putting the final touches on her.

This had been the part of their relationship that was the hardest for him to adjust to. He hadn't thought he would have to. Had thought it would be easy, given he'd had a semi public life as a viscount, but he'd very quickly learned that being associated with the royal family proper was its own kind of pageantry. He had Kate hadn't been together a week before they'd been sat in a room, the Queen Regent's disapproving stare fixed firmly on him, as Sophie chatted with 15 PR experts all tutting and umming.

"Just how public do you want this to be?" Kate's mother had sighed her eyes barely leaving Anthony's hand clutched firmly in Kate's.

Kate had frowned, "I know you think this is a mistake, Mary, but I love him." Anthony's chest had ached, for the disapproval in Mary's voice, though he knew it had nothing at all to do with Kate and everything to do with him, and rightly so.

"I don't think anything, Kate. You're enjoying a not insignificant bump in public opinion given everything that happened at... your wedding, I'm just saying, the public might not take kindly to seeing you in a relationship with someone that tried to stage a coup."

Unfortunately the PR experts had agreed, even Sophie humming sadly, but Kate had insisted, she wasn't going to keep their relationship a secret and so, Lord Bridgerton had emerged as Princess Katharine's public companion two weeks later.

And to everyone's very great surprise, the new royal couple had been a hit. Magazines were filled with pictures of Kate, smiling down at his younger sister amidst all the other school children. Pictures of him kissing her cheek as they got back into the car, the two of them branded star crossed lovers. Two people who weren't supposed to fall in love, but couldn't help themselves, capturing the attention of the entire country. Requests for media appearances pouring in, Sophie's phone ringing off the hook. And it had only been worse when Kate had been spotted, three weeks ago now, coming out of his apartment, an engagement ring fixed firmly on her finger.

So here they were, about to give a televised interview discussing how they fell in love. And it should have been so easy. But it really didn't seem that way.

"You look very handsome. I might have to undo those buttons with my teeth later." Kate's voice growled in his ear as she settled on the sofa beside him, legs crossed primly as she tucked herself against his side, wrapping his arm over her shoulders, her left hand resting on his knee so the engagement ring was front and centre.

Anthony felt himself flush, "Don't make promises you can't keep, Your Majesty." he ground out, ignoring her little huff of breath against his neck.

"Who said I wasn't planning on keeping them?" Her fingernails gliding up his leg, heat rushing to his stomach.

"Can we dial this horniness back to about a 2?" Sophie sighed from her position, by the door, waiting for the journalist to enter.

"What do you think we're currently at?" Kate hummed directing her attention back to Sophie effortlessly as Anthony tried to redirect his thoughts elsewhere.

"As always, 25. We want young and in love not ready to rip each others clothes off and make a celebrity sex tape."

"You can't deny we'd definitely get a lot of viewers." The corner of her lips was tugging upwards in smirk.

Sophie rolled her eyes, "One of these days I'm going to- Sandra! Lovely to see you again!"

The journalist had entered the room, looking around curiously, greeting Sophie politely. Anthony knew Sandra Jacobsen had been very carefully chosen for this interview, the exact brand of questioning carefully plotted out by Sophie.

"Your Majesty." The woman dropped into a curtsy before Kate, who nodded politely.

"And you know Lord Bridgerton?" The woman curtsied again.

"Sandra, it's so lovely to see you again. How is your son enjoying university?" Kate slipped effortlessly into her public mode, kindly enquiring after people, and Anthony knew, while other dignitaries had this information fed to thm, Kate kept her own careful notes on everyone, ready to use at a moments notice, and people were powerless t resist her smile.

Sandra settled in the chair in front of them after several long moments, rattling off some introductions, sending Anthony's anxiety hurtling towards breaking point, Kate's fingers drumming on his knee keeping it from getting there.

"Now, the two of you sent the entire country into a spin a few months ago."

Kate laughed delightedly, "Yes, I suppose it was a little dramatic wasn't it?" She turned to Anthony, her eyes sparkling at him, sending his heart skipping.

"We're nothing if not dramatic." Anthony couldn't help but grin. It was easy to laugh about it now, all the tears shed months ago now disappearing in the wake of this beautiful thing that had blossomed between them.

"I think, I speak for the entire country when I say what a beautiful couple you make." Sandra was saying, but Anthony couldn't pull himself away from Kate's eyes, drowning in them a little, falling deeper and deeper every second nw that he'd let himself.

"Lord Bridgerton?" Sandra's voice caught his attention, as Kate's elbow caught him in the ribs. Sophie hissing behind him like an angry goose.

"Sorry, Sandra I got distracted. Could you repeat that?"

"I was just saying, the two of you met when you were invited to stay at the palace," The very public, very necessary lie always grated on him. But they could hardly have had him say The future queen let me take her home not even knowing my last night and fuck her in my shower. Could they? "What was the first thought that ran through your head when you saw her?"

Kate was smirking at him, her hand tight on his knee, he could almost see Sophie begging him not to say something stupid, an image flashing through his mind f Kate on a barstool laughing delightedly his breath leaving his body.

"Honestly Sandra? Oh No, She's really pretty."

The entire Genovian news cycle is taken up by clips of Anthony stammering through his words, unable to take his eyes off his fiancée, Oh no, She's really pretty played on a loop, made into memes and jokes on late night TV. All with the same sentiment It's what she deserves. And Anthony honestly, couldn't have agreed more.

#Anthony is a himbo #change my mind #royals #princess diaries au #kathony #anthony x kate #anthony bridgerton #kate sheffield #kate sharma #molly's asks and answers

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memoriesofthecircularroom · 2 years

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Bleh. I would put this on a read more or whatever but 1, mobile never cooperates with me when I try that, and 2, I just kinda wanna get this done with.

Look. I would say I don’t give a shit what people think about me on this blog, but that’s a lie. I would say I won’t interact with syscourse, but it’s never worked when I try. I always come back, and y’all drag me back so easily.

It’s not hard to scroll back a year and see how pro-endo I was. Hell, I do to this day. I scroll back and see how much of an asshole I used to be. How I used to be as aggressive and batshit as so many of the hate anons have been @ me lately. I’m glad I’ve grown. But I still believe Endogenics COULD exist.

But I’m not going to just discredit the science that got us here. And I’m not going to ignore the fact that the instant I was no longer radically inclusive - the instant I said “I would love to see sources on this topic!” the community that had loved, fostered, and cared for me while anti-endos called for my blood suddenly HATED me. Suddenly dragged me headfirst into syscourse. Suddenly, I was a disgusting sysmed.

I am so, so tired of having to be Online 24/7. If I choose not to reply to someone - for example, today, with navel - due to the lack of energy caused by syscourse and the drama and also the fact that, oh yeah, it’s been 3 months since I last fronted, and I usually go years between fronting… I thought it would be okay to say “I don’t have the energy to waste here” in the quick 4 minute class change.

Instead, I decide to check back in during lunch, to see they’ve once again twisted my words, and decided to “reality check” me during my “pity party.”

I’m so sorry I’m suicidal, traumatized, and lack energy. I’m so sorry that I can’t engage with syscourse constantly. And yes, people on both sides say that “you can just leave.” But when I do that, I get messages of “are you ever going to address this” and “I guess you’re just okay with this heinous thing.” Fuck man, I literally just went to bat today for someone who didn’t have the energy to respond to someone else’s bullshit, because they shouldn’t need to be in syscourse 24/7, and someone else was still mentioning an event ages after it happened - all because they never got a response.

Not even a few months ago, I said I would move away from syscourse and try to make memes. But I can’t anymore. I don’t have the Funny Haha bone anymore. This whole syscourse thing took it out of me. I can’t even grasp how fucked up this whole culture is.

And the worst part is, I enjoy educating others. I’m a teacher. It’s my job. I enjoy discussing what I know from my years of being pro-endo, and what I know now about OSDDID. But all I’ve been getting lately is endogenic hate, and anti-endo positivity. Of course that’s what my blog will become geared towards when all the endo community is giving me lately is hatred, harassment, and dragging me endlessly back into syscourse.

I’m even making a new blog to start over soon. Something less polarized and without bias. So. Expect this blog to become a dumping ground I guess? Ugh fuck I’m rambling, I just need these thoughts out of my head.

Tl;Dr: I’m tired of syscourse, and while I would like to step away from it, it’s hard when people constantly drag me back in. Furthermore, I work to educate, and misinformation keeps finding its way on my dash. I’m going to try and correct it when I see it. I am *actually* genuinely sorry that I can’t be better for my followers and for those who want more from me. I do try my best.

That’s all. I’m good now. Thx

#did #dissociative identity disorder #syscourse #plural #osdd #traumagenic #other specified dissociative disorder #actually traumagenic #endos #mod Rice #switching out soon #suicide mention #tw suicide

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meruz · 3 years

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Aforementioned long ask post please excuse me while i try to figure out tumblr's new text editor. I’ll get into the art meme questions first and then the rest at the end.

Ok first of all thank you all for sending in questions! Giving me an excuse to talk hehe. I’ll address these in number order. Here’s a link to the ask meme for reference but also I’ll restate the question for ease of reading.

1. When did you get into art?

Super cliche answer but I don’t remember a time where I WASN’T the weird art kid! I started keeping a dedicated sketchbook when I was about 12? But here’s a page from my kindergarten journal about what I want to be when I grow up.

2. What art-related sites have you ever signed up for?

LOL this is a weird question. Not sure why so many people want to know. Anyways I definitely had a dA. more than one dA account. I used to browse oekakis when I was a kid but I think I was only signed up to some small ones that internet friends owned. What else...? Mangabullet,Tegakie, Paintberri, iscribble back when that was a thing, instagram if that COUNTs, I used to post art on livejournal and dreamwidth too. Patreon, I guess. Gumroad, inprnt, bigcartel, storenvy all for selling stuff.

In terms of resources.. I have a schoolism account that I’m sharing with friends. Used to take classes on coursera for free. I signed up to textures.com for work recently haha. I can’t remember if I ever had an account on posemaniacs. Did they have accounts...? I definitely used to visit all the time.

3. Show us your oldest piece of art you have on hand.

Alright here’s me actually logging into my old deviantart account. These are from September 2008 So I was 13 years old. I don’t have a deviantart account from before then because 13 was the required age for having an account and I didn’t want to lie about my age because I wanted people to be impressed by how young yet clearly incredible at art I was LOL.

4. What defines your artistic style?

You guys are probably more equipped to answer this than me but uh... I wanna say... Focus on colors. And... a slightly heavy hand? Like confident... not always well-considered mark making HAH...

Also I think I have a pretty healthy mix of american comics/manga influences. I feel like people who are into american comics always think my art is too manga and people who are into anime/manga always think my art is too american. And I’m taking that as a good sign.

5. Do you practice other styles/have you tried other styles in the past?

I like to think I switch it up a bunch! I mean, these are pretty different, right?

I think I’ve mentioned this before but one thing I really took away from art school is that, for an illustrator at least, art style shouldn’t be consistent. Your greatest weapon is changing the aspects of your style based on the task, the emotions and message you want to illustrate etc. So depending on the project I’m working on, the fandom I’m drawing for, whether I want something to be funny or serious or dramatic, I’ll change things about my style all the time.

One thing I don’t rly post on here is really tight polished work and that’s because I do that for my day job haha. If you’re not paying me... I’m probably not gonna color in the lines.

6. What levels of artistic education have you had?

I have a whole ass diploma LOL. Bachelor of Fine Arts in Illustration. from the Rhode Island School of Design. And I had a great college experience tbh. Besides the student loans. If any of you guys are thinking about art school feel free to e-mail or message me questions or concerns, I’ll be happy to help. Be as honest as I can be.

7. Show us at least one picture you drew or sketched recently that you did not put on a public site.

heres the wandavision kids. Uhh what else do I have...I feel like I’m rummaging for loose change here...

assorted valentines prep doodles

8. What is your favourite piece that you have done?

Well, obviously this is gonna change all the time and generally it’s gonna be my most recent piece LOL. So yeah, why the hell not. I’ll say it’s this one. I have a pretty short memory which I count as a blessing for an artist. I don’t dwell that long on older work and it keeps me moving forward.

10. What do you like most about your art?

I like that it’s something that only I would make! I had this thought fairly recently and I wrote it down in my sketchbook, it’s pretty cheesy and rambling but it felt revolutionary at the time:

So yeah. I like my art best when it’s the most me and for me. And I like it least when it feels like I’m just making something for social media or for other people’s expectations or whatever.

14. What do you like drawing the most?

Kids in baggy clothing are like my go-to LOL idk if that’s obvious. but also I like being challenged so lately I’ve really loved drawing multi-character compositions, environments, weird angles, etc.

oh i LOVE drawing the underside of shoes lol. And bandages. People that are kinda beat up.. I think it comes from getting a bunch of cuts all the time. I’m always patching myself up and I want to patch characters up too.

15. What do you like drawing the least?

mmm I try to find something to like in every drawing but lets see... I don’t like doing commissions of people’s dogs. Just because it’s normally like... a family friend and my mom volunteered me without my consent and I don’t even really know what they’re expecting me to draw and I don’t even get to meet the dog. Also I’m not that great at dog anatomy. Trying to learn though.

18. What is your purpose for drawing?

This could have a million answers! Uhhh to GIT GOOD??? But also to express myself... and also to make money... I mean it depends on what the drawing IS. I draw fanart mostly to connect to people in the fandom so if you ever see me drawing fanart please take it as like an open invitation to talk to me about the character haha.

20. How would you rank your art? (poor, mediocre, good, etc.)

Good!!! I have a lot of self-confidence primarily born out of ignorance and a short attention span. If I don’t think too hard about how many other artists are mindblowingly unfathombly good... its easy to think I’m good too! LOL

In all seriousness though, I think the opinion a person has of their art is like a crazy balancing act, right? Like you have to think you suck enough to want to get better but also you have to think you’re good enough to not want to give up. I think we’re all walking that line, I know I am! But also I’m a glass half-full type of person so. Most of the time I feel good about it.

22. List at least one of your “artspirations.”

This is a good question because I’ve been trying and failing to put together one of those “influence map” memes for like a full month now. What’s giving me a hard time is I feel like none of these are actually really obvious “““influences”““ in my art? Like it’s hard to see a lot of them in the work I make...? But idk maybe you guys’ll see what I can’t.

And these are just a couple! God there’s so many more. I could talk about other artists for ages, from all different genres of art. Daumier, Rockwell like every illustrator out there, Dana Gibson, Alex Toth, Hiroshi Yoshida, a lot of the Brandywine School. Lots of current working artists too, Karl Kerschl, frikkin Masashi Kishimoto lol, Jake Wyatt, Richie Pope, Edouard Caplain, Matt Cook, Sachin Teng, - lots of big internet artists, Sophie Li, Freddy Carrasco, Milliofish, Angela Sung... like all my friends from art school too. I could just keep going but I’ll stop for now lol.

24. Do you have a shameful art past? (recolour sprite comics, tracing art, etc.)

I mean if that’s how we’re defining shameful?? sure LOL. It’s not sprite comics but I used to do pokemon sprite recolors all the time. And I used to trace manga panels and color them... Granted this was all when I was like under 12 yrs old so it’s not even embarrassing. Can you really call it shameful when a 7 year old wets the bed or whatever? Not really. In fact some of these are cool as fuck. Look

25. Draw a picture!

Man I’m so tired now but here.

I used to get a lot of compliments for drawing people smiling lol but I don’t think I’ve drawn a lot of smiling lately.. here’s proof I’ve still got it.

OK MEME DONE. onto the rest.

I read this ask first thing when i opened my computer in the morning and it made me really emotional.. I’m so glad my sketches could help you!!

I think a lot of artists on social media talk about the struggle of making art but imo not enough people talk about the joy! Like I know it’s corny but. I really meant what I said at the beginning of that sketchbook about re-contextualizing art around process and progress > product and perfection. I think its super important..! The strength of messy, unfinished, and energetic art! For the feeling of it, for the love it!

That's crazy!!! I hope you like 'em. The whole line of x-books is really good rn imo.

Hi! I totally have the answer for digital stuff on my faq lol. But in terms of drawing on paper.. it varies! I tend to use sketchbooking and any on-paper doodling I do as a way to loosen up/warm-up or experiment. But right now my go-to aresenal is:

from top > bottom

- kuretake no.55 doublesided brush pen

- tombow fudenosuke

- muji 0.38 ballpoint

- medium size poscas

- grey tombow double brush pens

- good ol bic mechanical pencil

not EXACTly sure which inking you referring to from my sketchbook but if I had to take a guess it'd probably be the kuretake no55. That's been my main inker, lately. Great for sketching with the thin end too.

You can print out and eat my art if you like. Just please don't mass produce or re-sell. <3

Thanks! I've come to accept that my art is always gonna be sort of gestural and painty naturally. It's getting it to tighten up enough to be legible that's hard lol...

uh yeah lol I agree actually. I think yolei is great.

I assume these asks are related? LOL

1) Yeah totally true. I love David.

2) I don’t take requests, sorry! But if you want to commission me to draw Legion i would be MORE than happy to. Just e-mail me at [email protected].

<33333333333333333333333333

#ask #anonymous

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dellinah · 2 years

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I made a new icon after 84 years bc I needed to vent I guess

It doesn't look THAT different from the old one but at least it's an anthro one which I've wanted for forever since that's usually how I imagine/portray Talita as she is literally me and unfortunately I'm a human instead of being a little fox with no care in the world LIKE I SHOULD HAVE BEEN

But instead I'm here worrying about burnout depression and my future so if you're only here for the furry art fair enough ill keep the rant in a read more

Anyway hi

I have absolutely not been doing well these past few weeks and I'd say some moments might have been close to being some of the worst in my life but I am so jaded by previous experiences that I barely notice how bad it's affecting me until it hits me at 3am and I can't sleep and I just realized I'm in it DEEP which makes me freak out even more

Apparently my way of coping with life and issues is ignoring them until the last minute and just repress the SHIT out of it until it hits me in the face (peak 'this is fine' dog meme) and that isn't working anymore bc now I am an adult whose actions have consequences

I have so much school stuff to catch up on bc I stalled a whole month that short of spending hours on end at it for the next month I don't see how I can catch up in time but my mental health does not allow that as I have been sleeping 15 hours a day and staying up all night and I am scared shitless of not making it bc I'm supposed to graduate soon so FUCK and i barely know how to start. I feel so dumb and left behind while everyone seems to have their shit put together and i canr ask for help without feeling like a parasite or like they'll judge me for it

I also have no idea what I want to do or how to go about life once I am graduated (if i graduate) and i hate it bc I am so godamn lost and I have like 2 months to figure it out

My mother has covid for the 3rd time somehow which means another wave of covid has been going on in my family but I guess I avoided that but I cant see them for a while and I also lost a 3rd person I loved and cared about to it a while back and I haven't even cried yet bc once again Im ignoring and repressing it

I had to take 2 shots at the same time for covid and influenza which knocked me out for 3 days straight and made me miss yet more school stuff and I haven't eaten an actual meal since bc I'm not awake most of the day anyway

My meds for anxiety and depression have started to have side effects after 5 or so years so fuck me i guess bc i gotta get them replaced which means a lot of trial and error and i dont have time for that rn bc once again im late as shit

I just feel like I'm falling apart and no one really knows or sees it bc I'm the one that everyone in the family goes to when there's a crisis and I kinda just wanna keep it that way but also I kinda just wanna break down sometimes too yknow but if I do then who will literally solve every problem they have bc they refuse to go to therapy and apparently nobody else can help them with anything it has to be me even when I'm busy otherwise I'm an ungrateful child

There's this weird paradox where everyone in the family sees me as immature and irresponsible and a liar but they also come to me for help and support bc GOD FORBID someone else helps them so I just dont wanna give them more reasons to see me as immature but keeping that image that everything is fine is HARD when I'm on the verge of giving up

Other than that I also have just been reflecting on past events in my life and I feel so bad about some of them. I had so many good friends that I lost bc we grew apart and I had some I lost bc I was a shitty person and I never got to apologize and I know I'll just always miss them. I was at such a good place mentally between 2013-2015 and I miss those times that I can never go back to. I was doing so well in 2018-2020 too before the pandemic wrecked it and now Im just so nostalgic for those times and I can't help but feel like I'm just gonna get worse and worse after so much lost time

But that's ok. I think it's going to be ok. I just need to kick my own ass

It's just a lot of damage control and getting over stuff even though it feels like days just pass by and I can't deal with it

So I sat down and drew this in a few hours bc I just wanted to finish something I started for once. I was happier with it before but I think it looks ok and it helped me figure out what I wanna change in my furry designs. and I guess I wanted to put myself in a sunny sunset where I'm just happy with nothing to worry about, yknow? If i cant be happy at least talita can

Hope days like that can come again soon. Problem is that it only depends on me. So... shiiiit

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ieattaperecorders · 3 years

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Notes on Causality - Chapter 2: Georgie and Elias

An addendum to Something's Different About You Lately. Small scenes of Jon attempting to change the future that I didn't want to put in the larger fanfic.

The events of this chapter take place around the end of Chapter 8, Stranger.

(Incidentally, the main fic will be updated very soon. I'm mainly just holding off till the finale drops, in case whatever happens makes me want to tweak anything mood-wise in what I have planned.)

Read on Ao3

- - -

One ring. Another. Then another. Maybe she wouldn't pick up, Jon thought, drumming his fingers on the desk. Maybe it would go to voicemail . . . he could hang up, try again later. Take a little time to mentally rehearse what he would say.

A click, and her voice asked, "hello?"

"Georgie . . . it's Jon Sims, from Oxford?"

"Jon? Hey, been a while! How've you been?"

"Ah – good? I've been good," he lied. "Yourself?"

"Oh, not bad. Got a new roommate since you last saw me . . . he lays around the apartment all day and won't share the rent, but he's cute so I let it slide."

"Good to hear that your landlord is cat-friendly."

"You should hear him, he has the loudest little meow. Hang on, I'll if he'll say hello . . . ."

For a moment and he heard some vague coaxing noises, distant as if she was holding her phone away from herself. They were followed by a close-up, disinterested sniff, then Georgie's voice returned.

"Ah, never mind. Not in the mood, I guess."

"I've heard the Admiral's color commentary before," he smiled. "He's in all your mailbag episodes."

"Didn't know you were a listener."

"Well, I need something for the commute . . . it might as well be the UK's most onomatopoeic source of paranormal research."

"Ha. Knew you'd hate the sound effects."

"I don't hate them. Anyway, they're . . . distinctive," he leaned back in his office chair, the nerves he'd built up slowly dissipating as they fell into the rhythm of conversation. "They're very you."

"Classic Barker." There was movement in the background, and a few soft thuds. Likely the Admiral jumping to the floor. "Well from what I hear, we're in the same field. Aren't you working for the Magnus Institute now? You must hear plenty of ghost stories there."

"That's actually sort of why I called. I think we might have a mutual colleague . . . Melanie King?"

"Yeah, she's the one who told me you were there," she said knowingly. "Sounded like you left a hell of an impression on her."

". . . Not a good one, I imagine."

Georgie made a non-committal sound, being decent enough not to rub it in by overtly agreeing with him.

"I was trying to be helpful, but I think I just came off as dismissive. Ended up arguing with her over nothing," he sighed. ". . . Classic Sims."

"Accept no substitutes," Georgie said fondly. "So, what's the call about? If you want me to try smoothing things over with her –"

"It isn't that. Did she tell you about her experience?"

"Not really. Asked a lot about Sarah – she's a sound tech I recommended to her? Got the impression she'd been unreliable. She was nice about it, Melanie that is, but really evasive. I just assumed she's caught onto something interesting and wants to be the first to report on it. The risks of being friends with competition, I suppose."

"Ah. . . ."

"Not that she has anything to worry about. Climbing fences and squatting in abandoned churches is her thing. I'm all about doing research from my computer desk with a cup of tea, personally," she paused, and he heard a distant clink of ceramic. "Hey, are we even allowed to talk about this? Isn't there some sort of confidentially thing?"

"As it turns out, privacy isn't really something this place values," he muttered, "I don't suppose she's talked to you recently?"

"No . . . not for a couple of months."

"I'm concerned. Her experience left a powerful impact on her. Now she's chasing after anything that might bring her closer to what she encountered, and I'm afraid she doesn't care about the cost. She's going into some dangerous territory. And, well . . . it's not my place to judge her emotional state. But I am worried."

"Yeah . . . I saw the memes," he heard a frown enter Georgie's voice.

"I've tried to talk to her about it, a bit. But she and I always seem to push each other's buttons somehow. I'd be grateful if you looked in on her. I think that she could use a friend right now, and –" he smirked. "I happen to know you're good with obsessive types too stubborn for their own well-being."

"Ha. You trying to set me up or something?"

"Wh–" he started, taken aback. "I mean, well, that's really your business, not mine."

". . . Wait. I was joking, but are you really?" There was utter incredulity in her voice. "Jonathan Sims, did you call me out of the blue to set me up with someone I knew before you did?"

"Of – Georgie I don't even know if you're single, don't be ridiculous," he sputtered, feeling blood rise to his face. She laughed, and the uncomfortable heat spread.

"Okay, okay," she said. "I'm just giving you a hard time."

"I just . . . " he spoke slowly, trying to be precise. "I think that Melanie needs someone else around her right now. Someone grounding. If you're not looking to take that on, I understand, of course. But for whatever it might be worth, I would be grateful if you checked in."

"I'll give her a ring," something in Georgie's voice was familiar, and profoundly comforting. "See if she wants to get coffee and talk spooky-shop."

"I think that might do her a world of good," he said with relief

"Also? We should get coffee sometime too, catch up! I want to hear all the creepy stories you're apparently so free to talk about."

"Really, it's mostly drug experiences and conspiracy theories . . . ."

"Even better, I'll get to hear you complain. Then I'll be entitled gripe to you about all the weird emails I get. It'll be perfect."

Jon wanted to say yes. He really, really did. The thought of sitting down for a few hours with Georgie and talking about nothing particularly dire was a nice one. But he could only bring trouble to her door.

"I'd . . . like that," he said, "But I don't have much time to myself right now . . . maybe after everything calms down."

". . . Sure," she sounded a little disappointed. Georgie could always tell when he was brushing her off. "Some other time. Hope you can get some rest, then."

"I'll do my best."

"And thanks for the heads-up about Melanie. Really," the smile in her voice was back. "Don't be a stranger, huh?"

"Right," he smiled back, hoping she could hear it. "Ah. Goodbye, then."

"Bye."

He stared at the screen of his phone, not sure what to name the feeling in his chest. In his mind's eye, he saw her form vanishing down a long white corridor, and he knew she would have made this choice herself, eventually. He was just respecting that. Speeding things along.

"Trying to set her up . . . honestly," he muttered.

What he'd said about Melanie needing someone to talk to had been true. He was hoping Georgie's influence could nudge her away from the path she was on, one that had its natural end in blood and pain and the drumming of war. It was hardly his fault if he knew that particular matchmaking arrangement had already worked out once.

The call had barely ended for a minute before his phone vibrated with an email notification. He opened it, frowning when he saw who it was from.

Jon,

See me in my office at your earliest convenience.

Also, in the future please remember not to make personal calls during work hours.

- Elias

It was the most direct contact he'd had with Elias in months. Aside from a few institute-wide emails, there had been nothing since their conversation about the recordings. Jon hadn't even run into him in the hall. At least on the surface, he'd stuck to his promise to involve himself less directly. Not that Jon imagined Elias was truly keeping his distance, but he had begun to get comfortable with not having to see or talk to him. He dreaded the idea of going up there and actually breaking the silence.

That comment about personal calls irked him, too. He was taunting him. Going right up to the edge of admitting he'd been watching while giving himself just a little deniability.

He could ignore it, of course. Why should he do anything Elias asked him to, however small? Why should he make any part of his life easier? But that wasn't a smart attitude, he knew. Elias was keeping his distance for now, but if he saw Jon as too troublesome things would escalate. It would be foolish to bring that moment any closer by antagonizing him over nothing.

Jon still remembered the comment he'd made when they last spoke – I'm sure one of your assistants would be up to the task. If it came down to it, Elias knew exactly whose throats to hold the knife against.

With a distinct lack of pleasure, he climbed the stairs out of the archive.

Despite his mood he smiled at Rosie, tried to seem friendly as he greeted her. The words insecure and aggressive had a tendency to turn over in his mind when he saw her lately. He was earnestly hoping to be easier to talk to, but fairly sure he just came off as awkward. At least she was friendly with him. But then, she'd always been.

She said he was expected and should go right inside.

Elias was at his desk, writing on something hidden inside a folder. He glanced up and nodded as he entered.

"Ah, Jon. Sit down, I'll just be a moment."

As he took a seat and waited, Jon couldn't quite banish the idea that the folder was just a prop. A way to make whoever he'd called in wait, to make it absolutely clear how much more valuable his time was than theirs. Or perhaps to give them time to stew, to sit in anxiety and worry. Then again, maybe Elias really did have paperwork that needed doing, and the fact that it was absolutely, positively maddening to sit there in silence and watch him was only a bonus to it all. Eventually, he finished.

"It's been a while since we've checked in, hasn't it?" he paused just long enough for Jon to wonder if he was supposed to respond, then continued. "I'd like to hear your version of how the last few months have gone. What sort of progress you feel you've made, etcetera."

Oh, God. Was he actually expecting Jon to keep up the pretense of doing actual archival work? He hadn't been prepared for that at all, and felt preemptively exhausted at the thought of coming up with some nonsense progress report.

"Well. . . as you know, Gertrude left the archives in a state of serious disorganization, so progress has been hindered by that," he tried to remember what projects he'd put the others on to keep them all going with a token show of work. "I've set aside a section for discredited statements, which has been steadily growing. I imagine . . . it will make things more efficient for researchers in the future? And, uh . . . ."

"Let me stop you there," Elias said, holding up a hand.

Please do, Jon thought, relieved he wouldn't be subjecting them both to several minutes of this. Elias leaned forward and looked at him seriously.

"Have I done something to offend you, Jon?"

The question took him by surprise, to the point where he had to bite back a sarcastic laugh. What hadn't he done? "I'm not sure what you mean."

"Really. Because it seems to me that I've be extremely generous to you," that familiar tone of disapproval, of bland impatience. "I've given you a unique opportunity, allowed you free reign in setting your own priorities, and you still seem determined to resent me."

Fleetingly, Jon wondered if the elaborately decorated letter opener on the desk between them was sturdy enough to sink into Elias's chest without snapping. Not worth it, either way. Not with what it would cost.

"I . . . apologize if I've created that impression," he said evenly. "I've been told that I can be standoffish in my manner."

"Why does that not surprise me?" Elias smirked. "Though ‘standoffish' is a great deal more polite than the words people actually favor. Isn't it?"

Jon tried not to look away, tried and failed to meet Elias's eyes. Perhaps his inability to maintain eye contact with a conduit of the Beholding spoke well for his remaining humanity, but it still twisted in him. Made him feel weak.

"Are we done here?" he asked, voice tight.

Elias sighed, as if all of this was such a burden to him, as if he wasn't basking in the anxiety that Jon knew must be radiating off of him like heat.

"What was it you said to Martin . . . about discarding the facade once it stopped being useful?" That startled Jon enough to look back, to see the condescending smile on Elias's face as he continued. "Maybe you ought to do the same."

He stared, suddenly voiceless, heart pounding. This was it . . . should he be relieved or terrified?

"I've been where you are now, Jon." Elias continued. His voice was stern, with only the barest concession to false sympathy. "Trapped in a world that no longer makes sense, surrounded by malevolent forces, seeing enemies everywhere. And I can tell you that the only way to survive in this world is to recognize what resources you have."

". . . Resources."

"Yes, if you could just get past this irrational distrust you seem to have of me. I can't hold your hand through everything. But if you have questions . . . I might be able to give you some answers."

Answers? That would make a change from before, Jon thought bitterly. The Elias he remembered used misdirection, contempt and sometimes flat refusal to avoid giving Jon any information he could hope to use. Unfortunately there was only one question Jon really had for him anymore, and it was one he couldn't ask: how much do you know?

. . . Did Elias have that same question for him? It would explain why he was directly inviting him to ask about his situation.

Jon paused. He had to be smart about this. If Elias had sat him down like this before, he'd have wanted to know everything. If he didn't seem curious, it might point to how much he already knew, and that would be disastrous. But he also couldn't look too naive . . . he'd made his suspicion clear, already warned the others, he couldn't pretend to know nothing about the Institute's nature.

He tried to think back to when he was only just getting a sense of the way things truly were. What would he have most wanted to understand then?

". . . What happens to me," he asked quietly. "When I read statements? The real ones. You know what I mean. I can feel something happening, I know it's not just reading."

"The answer to that is rather complicated . . . ."

"Are you going to give it to me?"

"It would help if I understood what you already knew. How much did Gertrude tell you about the nature of this place? The Institute?"

"Enough to know I can't trust it," he glared across the desk. "And maybe the reason I don't trust you is because you're constantly peering over my shoulder."

"You must have some sense by now of the dangers the Institute attracts," Elias raised his eyebrows. "Can you really blame me for wanting to keep tabs on everything?"

"Because you ‘keeping tabs' was so helpful when I was pulled into those hallways for weeks."

"You opened the door of your own free will. I do what I can but I can hardly be expected to protect you from yourself."

"You're the reason I'm here in the first place! You've been--"

Jon cut himself off, he could feel himself beginning to shout, losing control of himself and it was stupid, so stupid. What was the point in arguing with him? Jonah Magnus knew exactly what he was doing, he wasn't going to be shamed about it.

"It doesn't matter," he said, trying to gather himself back to a neutral tone. "Can't change the past."

". . . For what it's worth, Jon, I do sympathize," Elias said, folding his hands. "Someone has to be the Archivist. You were just the best option available."

Why had he thought he could play along with this? As if he'd really be able to sit there, feign ignorance and draw information out of a man who'd been doing that exact thing to others for centuries. He wasn't going to beat him at his own game . . . far more likely he'd let something slip out of anger that would get somebody killed.

He pushed his chair back and stood, turning towards the door.

"I'll find my own answers," he said.

* * *

The door slammed shut, loud enough to echo. Jonah supposed he was going to have to get used to outbursts like these.

"I expect that you will," he muttered to the closed door.

Blind spots. He didn't like blind spots. Sometimes they were unavoidable, but having one so near to him was profoundly irritating. It was like knowing he'd forgotten something important, but being unable to dredge up any details.

He could watch Jon as easily as anyone else. Though there were moments his gaze would unfocus, and he suspected Gertrude might have taught him a few of her tricks, overall it wasn't hard to keep an eye on him. But lately, that was all he could do. No matter how he tried, he couldn't Know anything deeper than what appeared on the surface. He might as well have been following the Archivist around with a camera crew rather than channeling the overwhelming power of an Eternal and Unblinking Gaze From Which No Secrets Can Be Kept, for all the good it was doing him.

It was as if the knowledge was all there, but had been shifted somehow. Nudged just outside his field of vision.

A part of him was tempted to start over with another Archivist, one he could See more clearly. But the Web mark was hard to find, and he couldn't even be sure this anomaly was unique to Jon – that it would go away with his death instead of attaching itself to his successor. Despite its frustrating obscurity, something about it that felt like an aspect of the Beholding, though he couldn't say why.

So he'd tolerate the blind spot for now. At least Jon was easy enough to read without the Eye's assistance – the man wore his heart on his sleeve, was helpless in that way. Jonah liked that about him.

What he needed was encouragement. Something to get him out of his comfort zone – four marks was progress, but not fast enough, not with the Unknowing looming closer every day. Jonah wrote a quick note on a post-it and stuck it to the folder in front of him, then pressed a button on his intercom.

"Rosie?" he said, "I need you to run something down to the archive for me. Just drop it on Tim's desk, he'll know what it's for."

#tma fanfic #tma time travel au #sdayl

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