#helpful imaginary friend loop

[chipper-smol]

star abducted :3

[acotarxreader]

The Stray and The Snakes

Cassian x Reader

Synopsis: Your adjustment to the Night Court after meeting your Mate is made all the more difficult due to the unwelcoming nature of two particular sisters.

Orignal request: "Okay, so I have a request. Reader is mates with Cassian, and Nesta is like jealous or something. Nesta and Elain are horrible to the reader, like always putting her down. Reader tries not to let it bother her, and no one really notices until it finally does get to them and the inner circle does notice."

Warnings: Fluff, Nesta and Elain being meanies

A/N: Hehe my first Cassian request. This was a lot of fun to write, I hope people will forgive the Inner Circle for their blindness, Nesta and Elain are a real piece of work in this.

Let me know what you think!

p.s thank you for the love on Other Worlds, over a thousand of you have interacted with it, can't believe it!

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

“It’s beautiful YN” 

“Do you think?” your hands traced down the front of the snowy dress, your head tilting to the side as you watched your own movement in the mirror. Feyre sat behind you on a blush-coloured pouffe, sweetly smiling in the reflection. 

“Do you think Cass will like it?” “Who cares what that big baby would like, do you like it YN?” your head tilted to the otherside before you span to face your fast-friend.

“I want him to like it” you admitted softly, Feyre unable to keep the roll away from her eyes as she stood, pulling your hands in hers. 

“You could walk into Starfall in a paper bag and your mate would love you in it. So, I’ll ask you again, do you like it?” a smile grew across your face to match Feyres as you nodded. 

“Great! Let’s wrap it up and head to the House of Wind” 

The both of you strolled across the city you had learned to call home, a far cry from the outskirts of the Autumn Court where you were born and raised. It had been six months since Cassian had rocketed into your world and changed it forever, meeting you while you worked as a cook in a grand house. The preparations for Starfall had sent the city into an excited frenzy and you couldn’t wait to experience it for the first time with your new family. 

“Feyre! There you are” Nesta’s voice sang out of her in excitement but it felt as though the tone was a snake heading for your feet. She looped her arm through her sister’s as the both of you entered into the House of Wind, pulling her away from your side, to walk ahead of you. 

“Where were you sister, Elain and I are just getting ready upstairs”

“I was helping YN find something to wear for tonight for her to feel beautiful-” “-as if you could find anything that would help that” she laughed out, the snake climbed its way around you further. Feyre rolled her eyes with a small laugh, brushing off her sister's words as you fought your faltering smile.

“She found a lovely dress, didn’t you YN?” She called back to you as the three of you entered the main living area of the house.

“Ye-” “-Feyre! How could I forget to tell you, I found the perfect shoes for tonight, come on I’ll show” you huffed out slightly, familiar with Nesta cutting across you. Nesta spun on her heels to face you, causing you to almost walk directly into her with the abrupt stop of movement.

“Something the matter YN?” she almost bit out, the snake of words wrapping around your throat. Feyre had crossed the floor towards her own mate who beamed at her.

”N-no Nesta” 

“I didn’t think so, go make yourself useful, go help the other staff, back to your true calling” whispering at the end so only you could hear. 

“I-” “-My love, there you are!” Cassian's voice pulled the imaginary snake from around your airways, returning lightness to your chest as he met your side, his arm wrapping around from behind. Nesta’s face softened and a smile you knew to be laced with simmering irritation crossed her face.

“You're so kind YN for offering” Your eyes snapped from your shoes back to Nesta.

“Offering what?” Cassian kissed your cheek gently, his hand moving from your waist to lace with your fingers.

“Well, your lovely stray has offered to help with the setup of dining room! Right YN?” Her sickly sweet words turned in your stomach as Elain joined her side to collect her sisters and return to getting ready for the party.

“Oh, really YN you don't have to”

“I-”

“Cass, let her help, she probably craves the familiarity of a dirty apron” Poison-coated words dripped from Elain but shielded behind a smile. You looked to your mate standing behind you, his genuine well-meaning grin warming you despite the cold environment Nesta and Elains’ presence had swaddled you in. You were finding settling in around the two sisters especially difficult, your arrival had halted the friends-with-benefits situation between Cassian and Nesta and this had led to some deep-rooted resentment from the latter. Elain joining the cause in some sort of sick solidarity with her sister. 

That had decided your plans, afraid to contradict Nesta, with the mentality of service in the Autumn Court of being seen and not heard, very difficult to unravel yourself from. 

-

By the time you had finished setting up, the inner circle had finished readying themselves. You met Cassian on the stairs as you rushed to get yourself ready.

“My love, are you alright?” His hands cupped around your face as his lips pecked your forehead with the utmost of tenderness.

“Yes Cass, just finished with the table, you look so handsome” You held his wrists as his thumbs brushed across your cheeks. 

“Thank you! I can't wait to see your dress…and see it again on our bedroom floor later” he laughed as you rolled your eyes at him. He kissed your forehead again before releasing your face with softness, his brothers appearing on the landing behind him, guests beginning to arrive. You marvelled at the three Illyrians before rushing yourself up the stairs to change. 

By the time you had built up the courage to leave your bedroom, the party was in full swing. Fae seemed to flow from every corner of the bustling House as you found Feyre glowing alongside her mate on the outskirts of the courtyard where the festivities were bursting to life. 

“YN, you look dazzling”

“Thank you High Lord” You did a small curtsey and Feyre elbowed Rhysand cutting off his building laugh. 

“YN how many times have I to tell you, please call me Rhys” he offered you his hand to help you rise from your curtsey as your cheeks flushed.

“She can't help that she's built to serve” The two mates laughed at Nesta's joking tone from behind you, its undertone of sincerity not lost on you. 

“Nesta you lo-look lovely” you offered like so many white flags you had beforehand. 

“And you look clean for once”

“Nesta” Feyre laughed out a half warning, carrying no weight. The group had chosen to believe that Nesta's relentless snipping at you was more like she was hazing you instead of its true goal to wear you down. 

“I-I must find Cass, the migration starts soon” You bowed your head slightly to the three, out of sheer habit, gaining a snide laugh to leave the eldest Archeron sister. 

“Oh he went down the side corridor” Elain offered with a smile that didn't meet her eyes as she joined her sister's side. You gave a somewhat thankful smile and began to make your way in the direction she sent you. You felt suddenly pairs of hands collide with your side, pushing you with harsh force into a service pantry of the hallway, the door closing behind you.

Your hip met the tile floor of the cupboard with force, your arms instinctively going outwards to the shelves lining the walls, sending various cooking powders and syrups down on top of you. You gave a small shriek in pain and shock as the sound of two laughing females on the other side of the door spat venom in your ears. 

“Hey! Hey you guys let-let me out!” You pushed shakingly from the floor, palms splaying against the solid wood of the locked door. The laughing grew distant until dissolving completely and you found yourself sitting back down on the cold, food-covered floor. You fought back tears as you tried to swipe the savoury and sweet additions to your dress from the fabric, the dark of the room holding you close. 

“YNN!” You heard your mate's voice call out through the hall, giving you the strength to call back, trying to keep the shake from your voice. 

“YNN! What the fuck?!” The light flooded the small space, Cassian's eyes landing on his beautiful mate, sat in a ball at his feet. He dropped down to his knees, beginning to sweep away the floury coating.

“I-I-” The thoughts of the truth ran around your mind, would he even believe you if you told him? Did you want to risk finding out if he'd choose them over you? Or what if he did believe you and it ruined the family dynamic you knew he had spent his whole life craving? “-I…was looking for the bathroom” you offered as he stood, pulling you back up to your feet. 

“The bathroom?” He raised an eyebrow at your obvious lie, a faux smile painting across your face. You looked down at your destroyed dress, the tears once again threatening to add to the scene. 

“You-you look beautiful YNN” his eyes traced the stained fabric, a thumb brushing over the last remaining flecks of flour on your face. 

“I'm covered in food Cass” Your genuine smile returned.

“Just makes you even more delicious” he kissed wholly then, the taste of him took any bitterness from you. 

“C’mon, let's get you changed” he separated from you, his hand slotting into yours as you both traipsed back up the hallway. 

To get to your chambers, the main foyer had to first be transversed, the inner circle gathering there before going out to enjoy the spectacle in the sky together. You stepped slightly behind Cassian as you walked closer to the stairway, hoping to be able to sneak past the group.

“Ah Ah, you guys! We all promised we would watch this Starfall together, you can have sex after!” Mor laughed from behind you, your feet having only spent a moment on the bottom step. You reluctantly turned back to face the full group, Cassian instinctively standing to shield you from their eyes.

“YN and I will just be a moment”

“Yeah, I heard that's all you can last” Azriel laughed, the group following suit as Cassian shot his brother a playful death stare. Nesta sauntered over to the two of you, her hand landing gently on Cassian's shoulder, pushing him to the side, revealing the full picture of your ruined look.

“YN, what happened!?” Feyre looked you over, a bruise beginning to grow across your elbow.

“I-”

“It's obvious our little YN couldn't help but get involved in the kitchen” Nesta remarked, turning back on her heels, happy to watch the gawking take place. 

“I think it improves her outfit”

“Definitely Elain, anything would improve that tarp she's wearing” the two snickered, the group unsure of the sharp tones of the two sisters, too shocked at the brashness of the females. 

“That's not very kind of you two” Cassian felt himself bite out, the maroon now painting across your face as Cassian's hand held yours tighter.

“Oh Cass please, how could we ever match your level of charity, taking in such a lost cause” the group's heads snapped to the uncharacteristic bitterness dripping from Elain.

“I mean honestly Cassian, when are you going to wake up and realise she's never going to fit in here!” Nesta's sharp words gave life to the internal doubt you fought daily and you couldn't hold it back anymore, your tears flowed freely, having spent months being kept just below the surface. You dropped your mate's hand, catching the end of your long ruined gown and darting up the stairs in awash of pure heartbreak. You heard the beginning of Feyre and Rhysand reprimanding the sisters, with Mor and Azriel joining in, the agile footsteps of your mate echoing behind you. 

You crashed into your shared bedroom, wrenching the hair clips from your hair before running your hands across your tear-soaked cheeks. You had practically prised the stained fabric from your skin as your mate's knuckles rapped against the door. 

“YN let me in” You ignored his desperate tones, choosing to clothe yourself in trousers and a loose top before beginning to collect your things from around the room. The sound of Cassian's hammering had stopped along with his calling. You exhaled deeply before continuing to pack up your space. 

“YN!” You screamed with fright at the sight of Cassian closing the distance between you both, having landed on your balcony. He pulled the bundle of clothing you had grasped in your hands, tossing them aside before gripping your upper arms with a gentle firmness. 

“My love, please please stop”

“You heard them! I don't belong here, they're only saying what you're all too cowardly to admit!” You managed between falling tears, Cassian's heart beginning to shatter in his eyes at the sight. 

“YNN, you know it's biologically impossible for an Illyrian to be a coward” You felt a slight laugh leave you at his joking tone. His hands moved from your arms to wrap around you, pulling you flush with his chest where you could clearly hear his trembling heart beneath his midnight blue suit. 

“No one thinks what they said is true my love, they must have eaten something poisonous or something” You pulled back to look at your mate in his hazel eyes, it was clear to you from his words that he had not been aware of their historical treatment of you. 

“Cass-Cass they always say stuff like that” you managed to rattle out. You could see the rose-tinted glasses shattered in front of his eyes beneath his furrowed brow, reevaluating every interaction he'd seen between you and them before tonight.

“Gods…” he released you from his arms, standing back to run his hands down his face in disbelief at his blindness. 

“YN, I am sorry, I'm so so sorry for not seeing before, what kind of mate am I for being so fucking blind” You step back towards him, relief rushing through you that he had believed you. 

“One who believes the best in people” your hand ran down his cheek.

“I never thought I'd miss something like that”

“It's okay Cass, I'm sure you never thought they could be like that”

“No, it's not okay, it's not okay at all” his eyes darting across your face, the true reality he'd not been privy to before making him feel instantly ill.

“Cass, I love you, it's okay”

“It's not okay YN!” His raised voice surprised you slightly as he moved towards the bedroom door again.

“Cass, where are you going?”

“To defend you, I'm just sorry I didn't do it earlier, they will be sorry for this” His unfamiliar coldness stunned you almost as much as the sudden sparkling out of the corner of your eye. You looked to see the migration decorate the sky with a level of beauty you had never seen before. 

“Cass…please stay with me for this, I want to experience this with you” You manage to tear your gaze away from the view to land back on Cassian as he seemingly reluctantly removed his hand from the doorknob.

“Of course” he said with an almost sad smile, reaching for your hand to bring you to the balcony. You both looked up in comfortable silence at the glimmering skyscape, a genuine smile growing on your face. Cassian couldn't help but look down at you with pure unadulterated love, his annoyance that he didn't see the torment you had been under sooner. 

“You’re my everything, my love” 

“And you're mine” You leaned into his side.

“If there's anything left of those two downstairs by the time Feyre is done, I promise I'll make them understand their grave error in hurting you” 

“I don't expect much to be left” you laughed, the sound releasing pressure from Cassian's chest. You both stood on the balcony marveling at the glorious sight above you, unable to image being anywhere else with anyone else.

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

Whatcha think?

[strawberrystepmom]

canon au. cult leader!geto x f!reader. | word count: 762, reading time: 3 minutes.

“Did I ever matter to you, Suguru?”

In a different life, the fact you’ve even asked would have crushed the man standing next to you. In this imaginary reality, he’d ask how he could show you differently that he cares. He would reaffirm that the attention you spent almost a year of your life extending to him was worth it and helped him through the worst times he has ever experienced, but in this one he knows better.  

It doesn’t matter if you did or not. His feelings won’t change the fact you will never be his, your noble choice to do good far more important to you than any lingering feelings you may have for him.

“No, I guess you didn’t.”

The words taste worse across his tongue than any curse he’s ever ingested. He’s a liar, damned to hell for more reasons than just dishonesty, but he has to finally let you go; to let you walk back into a crowded club with tears blurring your vision because his words cut to your core. You told him years ago you fear being forgettable, someone people can let go of without a second thought, and it’s the sharpest knife he can press into you in some ill guided attempt to get the last word.

“I’m glad to finally know.” 

A chance encounter in a club closes out a chapter in your life you thought you’d stay suspended in forever and your stomach turns, your hands idly resting at your sides while your thoughts race. From “does your boyfriend know you’re out dressed like that?” to turning your head with a grin that swiftly fell as you weaved through the thick crowd to end up out here. 

You sniffle and what’s left of his heart breaks, wondering for a moment if he can’t take it back. If he can’t replicate the grin of his former best friend, jovial and wide enough that you believe he’s joking. He could toss you a sardonic, bitter chuckle and you’d roll your eyes but who would it help? 

It’s not like you’re going to return to him, it’s not like he can undo this.

“Thank you for being honest,” you mutter quietly before turning on your heel to leave.

Words sit heavily in his mouth but they disappear with each step you take, putting distance between the two of you before you glance over your shoulder. He’ll try not to remember the look in your eyes while they dance over the entirety of his form as though they’re seeing who he really is for the first time. 

He’ll fail and it’s why he accepts that tonight you’ll return to Satoru, begging for affirmation that you aren’t as worthless as you feel and he’ll almost certainly give it to you, eager to please with sweet words and teases. Reassurances you aren’t nothing, that you’ve made a mark on his life he won’t soon be recovering from. The boy with the silver spoon has become the man with a gilded tongue, the one who always inevitably gets what he wants.

God knows Satoru has wanted you for long enough, since you first stumbled into his life at fifteen, it’s only right he gets to have you now despite Suguru’s selfish wishes that you stay affected by him forever.

He’ll fail and that’s why he knows he will return to the compound, a failed scouting mission in the city under his belt, but he’ll slide into someone’s bed regardless. There’s a woman who looks enough like you when the lights are low he can pretend, it’s the reason he recruited her in the first place, a poor imitation of the real deal. He can press his hand over her mouth to keep her from speaking pleasured babbles in a voice that doesn’t belong to you and he can close his eyes and pretend the smack of skin on skin is yours on his. He’ll ask her to flip over to her belly so he doesn’t have to look at her but he can imagine that the hair that’s a shade too dark to belong to you is still yours, looped around his fist while he fucks all of his angst into her, pretending he’s another man living another life.

Your retreating footsteps continue and his traitorous mouth opens, gasping quietly enough it doesn’t grab your attention over the sound of pouring rain and thrumming music behind the entrance to the club, and he closes it wordlessly, grateful he’ll never have to see you look at him like that again.

[backwardshatnick]

𝖿𝗂𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖺 𝖻𝗋𝗈𝗄𝖾𝗇 𝗋𝗈𝖽 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗇𝗈 𝖻𝖺𝗂𝗍

in which matt is a man with a mission but horrible baiting techniques.

pairing: call centre representative!matt x customer!reader wc: 1.3k notes: matt finally makes an insta story post :> i cringed so hard writing this, it's not even secondhand embarrassment, but a firsthand because i just wanna put my hand first into a tank of piranhas. [divider credits to: @strangergraphics]

Matt has been pacing around the café’s parking lot for 6 minutes straight, launching his phone in the air and catching it— though failing a couple of times, resulting in a few more cracks being formed at the corners. He could be seen mumbling, his mouth moving and lip being chewed a couple of times, as if rehearsing something in his head but never seeming to be satisfied.

You were inside the coffee shop, focused on stacking croissants and red velvet muffins with unnecessary intensity while your best friend was lounging by the espresso machine, meticulously filling it with the new Colombian coffee beans.

“Did you see the last minute e-mail from our TA this morning? He is really testing my pa—”

She got cut off. The bell on the glass door had jingled as a pair of uggs walked up to a counter.

“Hey. Um- hi again,” Matt greeted, all shy. He looked a bit different today and seemed to look a lot more put together. Stubble not found, white hoodie replaced with a light blue striped dress shirt with a white top underneath, but with his carabiner clip around the belt loop of his matching brown trousers.

You looked up from the display case and headed towards the counter, “Oh, Matt, hi. Back for another passionfruit lemonade?”

Damn it, he wasn’t even here the past four days yet you remembered not only his name, but what he had ordered the last time he came. You tried to retain your composure, hoping the tinge of pink on your cheeks only indicated the heat that somehow travelled from the fresh pastries.

“Yeah, well, I had a feeling that the Wi-Fi here would crash again,” Matt replied nonchalantly with a sneer, though he was cringing and mentally hitting his forehead on an imaginary concrete wall, “You know, for the nostalgia.”

Your strawberry blonde best friend snorted in the background while you cleared your throat at his answer.

“I’m afraid you’ll just have the day off, Matt. No tech-related emergencies today at the Coffybara. Just overpriced muffins…” your voice smooth and answer prompt.

You could see that Matt’s teasing smirk had faltered, the sparks of exhilaration that he had kept deep within his electric blue eyes now fizzling away. This was not the reaction that he had expected.

Similarly, he cleared his throat too, “Right. Yeah. Okay, that’s totally cool,” he paused, “You ever called like… customer support? For tech stuff?”

Fuck, this is causing me pain, he thought.

Matt was met with repeated blinks from you, the bafflement obvious when you answered him with a breathy “What?”

“Like, have you ever called those customer call centre hotlines where someone walks you through turning the router off and on?”

“Huh?”

“Oh, right. Totally, pshhh,” he scoffed, hoping that that would somehow make light of the absolute hot water that he was in, “I mean, me neither.”

When he was not met with a response but with yet another quizzical gaze, your head now tilting with eyebrows scrunched, Matt just had to layer more onto the uneasiness when he added, “I do know a guy though. Goes by Bernard. Kind of a legend, not gonna lie.”

“That’s a weird thing to bring up,” you finally spoke, “If we have another Wi-Fi problem and you somehow can’t make it, hopefully this 'Bernard' can come and help.”

Matt was spiralling now, brain working overtime to remember his Communications Psychology module that was two semesters ago, charm and wit on the tip of his tongue as he failed to relay the Bernard's communication skills.

“Yeah, I guess I- you kind of… I don’t know. Maybe sound like someone that he has helped?”

You knew deep down that this guy is baiting, but you were not to give in this easily. Not too early into this stage. Not when his fishing rod is broken and bait nowhere to be found. And so, with immense self-respect you tried defending yourself.

“So what you’re saying is that I sound inept when it comes to fixing my own internet?”

He stunned in silence, “...Maybe?”

That was it. That was the last straw and Matt looked at you as if he not only wanted to run into a concrete wall, but to seal himself in it for eternity. You stared at him for a second longer then turned away, returning to your tray of pastries at the display case.

“You know the muffins are still warm. Care for one?”

He gave you a nod and quickly paid for it once you gave him the red velvet muffin now bagged in a white paper bag. Reaching for a copious amount of serviettes and toothpicks nearby, Matt was still insistent.

Trying for one last time he said, “You really do sound familiar, though. Just saying.”

“Must be the voice of all people who hate slow connection,” you bitterly replied without looking at him as he left the coffee shop, bell on the glass door rattling which signalled his exit.

Thanks to the two-way glass, Matt was invisible, already in his car repeatedly striking his head on the steering wheel until he finally stopped when he had accidentally honked the car horn by mistake which scared a group of exercising elderlies nearby.

He drove away to a different branch of the café, buying yet another passionfruit lemonade to not only wash down the unnecessary sweet pastry, but as a moral and consoling drink to let the embarrassment lingering in his dry throat disappear. Now seated on a bench outside with no one to talk to, he finally reinstalled his Instagram and posted an update.

And that was $12 down the drain, alongside his image and pride.

You and your best friend were now on your way back to the dormitories, which was conveniently just a 7-minute walk. The rustle of leaves accompanied your stroll, both too tired to break the silence after the draining 6-hour shift.

“Okay,” your best friend finally cracked, “do you want to talk about how you just made that guy question his entire identity or are we just going to move on like nothing just happened?”

“I didn’t say anything mean.”

She can’t help it but to let out a loud cackle, “Sure, but your vibe, miss girl, your vibe was totally screaming ‘you-have-the-wrong-person-and-are-also-an-idiot.’ What has he ever done to you?”

“He was being weird,” you quietly answered.

“He was trying to flirt. Desperately. But you just had to do whatever it was that you did this morning.”

You stopped in your tracks, staring into the distance as you thought of your own internal monologue, “I panicked, okay?”

“I could tell,” she answered, “You literally didn’t even blink the moment he mentioned Bernard.”

“I mean, I wanted to blink. My whole soul was blinking,” you continued and quietly followed it up, “I just think that was the Bernard himself.”

“Oh my god—”

You clamped your best friend’s mouth shut by with your palm, now looking like a kidnapping situation, “I swear if you fucking shout again I’m gonna replace your body lotion with mayo.”

She now started whisper-shouting.

“I knew it! You’ve been acting like a cat on heat ever since that tiny man had a meltdown over our Wi-Fi. Were you even telling me everything?”

You threw your arms up in the air, “I was embarrassed, okay? I didn’t even tell you the whole details before the survey text. I sorta flirted back, talking about Mr. Winston and wanting to thank him during our grad speech. Like some tragic rom-com female lead! And now the universe is against me with him just out there trying to confirm if it was me and I just—”

“Decided to gaslight him into thinking it was me instead,” your best friend interrupted and started clapping slowly. “Got it. Iconic shit, honestly.”

“I didn’t mean to. I froze because he was right there! In the flesh! With that smooth Bernard voice and stupid little grin on his stupid cute face… He even remembered the nickname.”

“Einstein?” she blurted out.

You winced and shuddered, not because of the cold, but because of the realisation finally hitting you on just how much you hated yourself for finding it hot when he said it.

“So what now? We continue the Instagram hunt?”

“Absolutely not. I will take this to my grave, all inertia and stagnant.”

She was now side-eyeing you, face painted with doubt and sneered, “You’re so gonna cave in. He’ll stop by again and this so-called inertia that you have will be long gone.”

📤 @mattsgracie @vanillaspacecamp @httpssturns @oopsiedaisydeer @vanteguccir @slvtf0rchr1s

[aziraphales-library]

I didn't know the fandom had librarians! This is amazing!

I read Factory Settings recently and I'd like to find more fanfics that deal in multiple realities, split realities or time travel / time loops etc. Do you know of any?

Hi! We actually have tags for these, so do check out the fics we've already recommended here: #multiverse, #alternate universe, #time travel, and #time loop. Here are more to add to the collections...

A Moment Suspended in Sea Spray by cassieoh (T)

Green filled his vision in the brief second before he instinctively tucked his head away in his coils. Crawly didn’t think there had ever been anything green and growing in Hell save perhaps a good mold behind Hastur’s knees. Cautiously, he inched the very tip of his nose out of his coils and flicked his tongue. Growing things. Soil. Apples. The oil left behind by human hands. Something strange and sharp smelling. Under it all, a smell he knew but couldn’t place. This wasn’t Hell.

Limitless by SmokingMirrorChaos, Yvesriba (T)

Crowley has never known a world with Aziraphale. Where he's from, his counterpart was the angel Anathema. 6000 years of friendship eventually lead to them traveling between worlds until they discover one where there has never been a Crowley. But, there is an Aziraphale. They met and fall in love and with Aziraphale, Crowley finds the happiness he's always sought. A tale told in Crowley's stories to Aziraphale and flashbacks.

creatures of circumstance by attheborder (M)

Anthony J. Crowley, Jr. is the prodigal son of CrowleyCorp, the UK’s most powerful, dangerous, and controversial technology company. A one-night stand with a mysterious man who calls himself Aziraphale tips his hopeless life upside-down into a dangerous obsession. And somewhere else entirely, a girl-shaped creature is presiding over the back room of a bookshop in Soho, where an angel and a demon lay unconscious on the floor…

Endless Night by AppleSeeds (T)

Spending Halloween in an old cottage with his housemates, university student Crowley finds himself trapped in a time loop that repeats every four hours, with only the spirit of Anathema's dead witchy ancestor to help guide him. Agnes believes the time loop has been triggered by Crowley's own thoughts, and that the only way to break it is to ensure that Aziraphale, who Crowley is completely infatuated with, actually enjoys himself. Despite how flustered he gets every time he even looks at Aziraphale, Crowley does everything he can to try to make that happen. But no matter what he tries, things keep going wrong.

World Enough And Time by Stephquiem (T)

For Aziraphale, there were always two Crowleys: the First Crowley, the one he met in the Garden, the one he's spent 6000 years meeting across human history. And there is the Second Crowley, the one who comes to him across time, again and again, propelled, it would seem, by some unknown tragedy. Both, his hereditary enemy. His dearest friend. For Crowley, there is a Before, and there is an After. Before, he spent 6000 years as Hell's agent on Earth, seeing Aziraphale occasionally, working together where they could get away with it. After... After, he's drawn back over and over, like he's attached by a tether that just won't let him go. Not that he wants it to let him go. The alternative...

Smoke and Mirrors by cyankelpie (T)

“If we want the truth from him, he needs to feel safe enough to speak truthfully,” said Gabriel. “Now, I know what you’re thinking: ‘The traitor couldn’t possibly feel safe while he’s in Heaven for interrogation!’ And you’d be right.” His grin widened. “But—this is where it gets really good—he won’t even know that’s where he is.” (Aziraphale is imprisoned in Heaven, but breaks free thanks to Crowley’s help. On Earth, Crowley wakes up from his pandemic nap to find Aziraphale missing. Meanwhile, two angels watch an imaginary life unfold, with all the time in the world to wait for the answers they need.) And the sequel, dealing with the aftermath: Reality Check

- Mod D

[faithst]

unspoken confessions

⊹˚.♡ syn gyuvin, secretly in love with his affectionate childhood friend, is tormented by his feelings. when an unexpected conversation forces him to confess, he fears it will shatter their bond.

⊹˚.♡ genre gyuvin x gn!reader, fluff, childhood friends to lovers, highschool setting, gyuvin has a big fat crush on reader (ft. ricky)

⊹˚.♡ wc 0.8k

masterlist

Gyuvin was dizzy, his head spinning with thoughts of you. Anyone could see the massive imaginary arrow Cupid had struck through his heart. Anyone and everyone, except you, of course! He was definitely guilty of wanting a childhood friends-to-lovers trope to happen, but he was also afraid of ruining the friendship.

Despite trying to shove these feelings to the back of his heart, he couldn't help but giggle at the sight of your charming smile—he swore he could see sparkles emit from you every time you smiled at him. He couldn't help the pink hue that coloured his cheeks and ears whenever he thought about you, or the way your words went in one ear and out the other because he was too focused on you.

Gyuvin tried really hard to push these growing feelings away every year, but you were a problem. He thought you were joking—"They’re just a really affectionate person!" he would say to everyone who questioned your relationship. From the random finger-holding that turned into fully interlocked hands because your hands were "cold," to the soft, warm hugs followed by "You’re the best!" after he agreed to one of your little dumb ideas. And lastly, the so-called platonic cheek kisses every time Gyuvin walks you to your classroom or home—he’d have those moments recorded and looping in his brain for hours on end.

"Gyuvin..? Gyuvin!" His imagination was cut short by Ricky, who was currently trying to explain a topic. "What are you thinking about—no, don’t tell me." Gyuvin smiled sheepishly, scratching the back of his head.

"Why don’t you say something to them?" Ricky asked, noticing the blood rushing to Gyuvin's cheeks. "That just won’t do," Gyuvin sighed. "How come?" Ricky paused his writing to glance up. "Risky," Gyuvin simply answered, leaning back in his chair and puffing up his cheeks. He knew that dissatisfied look on Ricky’s face too well.

Gyuvin stood up and began pacing back and forth, making all sorts of facial expressions that showed he was deep in thought. "There’s absolutely no way they like me in that way," he finally spouted out, making Ricky snicker.

"Riiight..." Ricky dragged the word out. "The hand-holding and ‘platonic’ kisses don’t mean anything?"

"Their hand gets cold easily and it’s a form of gratitude!" Gyuvin remarked, still pacing around the empty classroom. "Everything about them might be too much for me," he confessed. Ricky was confused, question marks practically appearing over his head as Gyuvin noticed.

"I think I’ll get severe heart palpitations from them... Their hands are so soft, there’s not a callus in sight. I want to melt into their arms and become a puddle forever. And their lips..." He now pressed his back against the wall and slowly slid to the ground, hands covering his face. "I’m so done for."

Luckily for him, you walked in at that exact moment, confused to see him on the floor all stressed out. "Gyuvin? What happened?" you asked, eyebrow raised.

Gyuvin immediately stood up and smiled, as if nothing had happened. "Oh, it’s nothing! Let’s go," he assured, awkwardly smiling to hide the side-glare he shot at Ricky. You weren’t convinced, but you ignored it, linking your arm with his, making his heartbeat quicken.

As you both walked home, random topics flew out of your mouths: school, friends, food. Quite literally anything. "Some of my friends asked if we were dating," you spoke up, smiling at the thought, which made Gyuvin stop in his tracks. "I said no, and they said that we should." There was a small pink hue on your cheeks that anyone else would’ve noticed, but Gyuvin was stuck in his own mind, trying to find the right words.

"Your friends are right," he spouted out, clearly not having thought it through. Now, you were the one stuck; did you hear it right?

Gyuvin realized what he said. "I—I mean, maybe we should..." His face turned bright red as his hands moved frantically, fiddling with his fingers. "Or maybe we shouldn’t, who knows!" he awkwardly laughed, continuing to walk ahead of you, with you still frozen in place. He was mentally preparing himself for how he’d 'ruined' the friendship and couldn’t wait to go home and drown in his own pool of embarrassment.

"We should," you spoke out, walking to match his pace.

Gyuvin didn’t hear you properly. "Yeah, it’s a bad idea rig—huh?" He realised what you said. You giggled, intertwining your fingers with his. This time, it felt different—foreign and tingly. Gyuvin’s heart raced as he looked at you, a slow smile spreading across his face.

"Really?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Really," you confirmed, squeezing his hand gently.

Gyuvin’s smile grew wider, and he pulled you into a hug, holding you close. The world seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you in that perfect moment. He had you, and that was all he needed.

@ faithst 24’

[nightmarezoe1]

They say that hedgehog courtship involves a male hedgehog circling a female while huffing and puffing to attract her attention.

So I wonder how that's gonna go when a female has two males trying to court her.

☝️this is part 1 I don't know how else to link it

♡ Hope you enjoy

{Shadow vs Sonic

Or is it

Shadow x sonic?????????

Sonic x reader x shadow {Pt2

The afternoon sun dappled through the canopy of Emerald Park, painting shifting patterns on the lush grass. It was a perfect day for hanging out, and the usual crew had gathered: Sonic, the blur of blue confidence; Shadow, the enigmatic ebony rival; Tiny Tails, ever-tinkering; Knuckles, diligently guarding a picnic basket from imaginary threats; Amy, radiating an infectious energy; Rouge, already polishing her nails, probably calculating angles for future mischief; and Silver and Blaze, serene as always, though a knowing glint was in their eyes.

And then there was Y/N. Sweet, unassumingly charming Y/N, who sat on a checkered blanket, sketching in a notebook, oblivious to the simmering tension that perpetually hung in the air whenever Sonic and Shadow were in the same vicinity as her.

If one were to observe the scene from above, like a particularly insightful bird, they would notice a peculiar pattern. Sonic, with his usual boundless energy, would zip around Y/N, offering compliments, cracking jokes, doing quick loops around her to show off, his quills practically vibrating with suppressed eagerness. This was his version of the male hedgehog’s circlings – a vibrant, flamboyant display designed to catch the eye. He’d "huff" with exaggerated confidence, puffing out his chest whenever he landed a good joke, his eyes glued to Y/N’s reaction.

Shadow, on the other hand, was more subtle, but no less intense. He didn’t zip; he glided. He’d position himself strategically, often leaning against a tree or a picnic table, arms crossed, his gaze following Y/N intently. Whenever Sonic made a move, Shadow would counter, positioning himself closer, perhaps clearing his throat with an almost imperceptible "puff" of his own, or offering a concise, profound comment that he hoped would resonate more deeply than Sonic’s boisterous antics. His circulation was less about speed and more about calculated presence, a dark, magnetic pull.

And Y/N? She just thought they were being… Sonic and Shadow. They were always competitive, always trying to one-up each other. It was just their dynamic. She found it endearing, in a chaotic, best-friends-who-act-like-rivals kind of way.

“You know, Y/N,” Sonic zipped over, appearing almost out of nowhere, a freshly picked wildflower clutched between his fingers. He presented it with a flourish. “This flower totally reminded me of you. Bright, cheerful, and a little wild.”

Y/N giggled, taking the flower. “Aw, Sonic, that’s sweet! But it’s just a dandelion.”

Before Sonic could pout, Shadow materialized beside Y/N, a small, elegant teacup appearing in his hand as if by magic. “Hmph. A dandelion. Crude. I, however, prefer to offer substance.” He gently placed the teacup, filled with steaming, fragrant chamomile tea, beside her. “For your creative pursuits. Helps with focus, I’m told.”

Sonic gaped. “A teacup? Seriously, Shadow? What, are you her butler now?”

Shadow smirked, a barely perceptible curve of his lips. “At least my offering has practical value, unlike a weed plucked from the ground.”

“Hey, dandelions are resilient!” Sonic retorted, crossing his arms. “They represent overcoming challenges!”

“Or poor gardening,” Shadow deadpanned.

Y/N, sipping the tea, just smiled. “Wow, thanks, Shadow, this is amazing! And Sonic, it’s a very pretty dandelion.” She looked between the two hedgehogs, who were now engaged in a silent, intense stare-down. “You guys are so thoughtful to each other! Always trying to out-do the other in kindness.” She mistook their competitive one-upmanship for a strange form of affectionate rivalry.

In the background, Tails pressed a button on a small counter. “Point Sonic for spontaneity, point Shadow for refined taste. Their competitive altruism is off the charts.”

Rouge, fanning herself with a twenty-note, nudged Amy. “Ten Rings on Shadow for the long game. Sonic’s too impulsive.”

Amy huffed. “Sonic’s genuine! He doesn’t need fancy tea cups! Five Rings on Sonic all the way!”

Knuckles, scratching his head, mumbled, “Are they… fighting over who’s nicer? That’s new.” Silver and Blaze shared an exasperated, but knowing, look.

Later, during a friendly game of Ultimate Frisbee, the “courtship” continued. Sonic, naturally, was a blur, making impossible catches and throws, always ensuring Y/N saw his prowess. “Catch this, Y/N!” he’d shout, launching the disc in an impossible arc that only he could retrieve. He’d flash a triumphant grin, his quills bristling with self-satisfaction – pure, unadulterated "huffing."

Shadow, while not as flashy, was equally formidable. When the frisbee inevitably veered off course thanks to Sonic’s overenthusiasm, Shadow would intervene with a Chaos Control, positioning himself perfectly to retrieve it with effortless grace before returning it to Y/N with a calm, steady throw. “No need for theatrics,” he’d comment, his voice a low rumble, clearly directed at Sonic, yet his eyes lingered on Y/N, gauging her reaction. His “circling” here was about control and quiet competence, contrasting sharply with Sonic’s chaos.

“Whoa, you guys are incredible!” Y/N exclaimed, clapping. “You make such a great team! Sonic’s speed, Shadow’s precision… you complement each other perfectly!”

Sonic nearly tripped. Shadow’s stoic expression cracked into something akin to bewilderment. They both glanced at each other, then back at Y/N, then back at each other, as if for the first time truly seeing each other in the context of “team.”

The friends were having a field day.

“The ‘Complementary Chaos and Control’ theory is holding up!” Tails scribbled furiously in a small notebook. “Preliminary data suggests high compatibility in collaborative tasks.”

Rouge snickered, collecting a few Rings from a dispirited Amy. “Told you, Ames. Shadow’s got the strategy down. Sonic’s just… loud.”

“He’s charming!” Amy protested. “And his laugh is adorable!”

Knuckles, oblivious, was trying to eat the frisbee. Silver and Blaze were biting their lips, their shoulders shaking with suppressed mirth.

As the day wore on, Y/N started noticing a pattern. It wasn’t just the gifts or the frisbee game. It was everything.

If Y/N mentioned a new movie, Sonic would instantly offer to take her, only for Shadow to interject that the director’s cut was superior and he already had access. If Y/N spoke about a challenging puzzle she was working on, Sonic would boast about how fast he could solve it, while Shadow would quietly offer a logical framework for approaching it.

They were always flanking her, almost literally circling. If she walked to get a drink, one would be on her left, the other on her right. If she sat down, they’d arrange themselves on either side. Their huffing and puffing wasn’t just physical anymore; it was in their rapid-fire retorts, their subtly raised voices, the way they’d clear their throats pointedly when the other was speaking to her.

Y/N, however, interpreted it all through her own unique lens.

“You know,” she confided to Amy while the two hedgehogs were locked in a particularly intense debate over the proper way to butter toast (Sonic: quick and efficient; Shadow: slow, methodical, even spread), “Sonic and Shadow are really close, aren’t they?”

Amy nearly choked on her juice box. “Close?”

“Yeah! I mean, look at them,” Y/N gestured. “They’re always together, always bickering, but then they’ll subtly pick up on what the other just said, or complement each other’s… whatever.”

Amy looked at the two hedgehogs, who were now glaring at each other over a single slice of toast, their quills puffed slightly in challenge. “Right. ‘Complementing.’”

“Exactly!” Y/N beamed. “It’s like they know each other so well they can anticipate each other’s thoughts. And they’re always trying to impress each other, even when they’re ‘fighting.’ It’s really endearing, actually. Like an old married couple.”

Amy’s eyes widened. She slowly turned to Rouge, who was now holding a significant wad of cash. Rouge just winked.

“Are you… talking about Sonic and Shadow?” Amy asked, very slowly.

“Of course! Who else?” Y/N frowned slightly. “I’m just saying, it’s really sweet to see them so comfortable together. You know, like, they’ve clearly found their person.” Her gaze softened as she watched Shadow subtly adjust the picnic blanket for Sonic, who had just accidentally kicked it. Shadow’s eyes darted to Sonic, who nodded almost imperceptibly. A flicker of something passed between them that Y/N mistook for quiet affection, but was actually a mutual, unspoken agreement to continue their campaign for Y/N's attention without disturbing the peace of the group.

The friends collectively stifled their snickers. This was going to be good.

As the sun began to dip below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and purple, a comfortable silence settled over the group. The air grew cooler, and a few yawns escaped. It was time to pack up.

Sonic, seeing his window of opportunity, zipped over to Y/N, a determined glint in his emerald eyes. Shadow, sensing the shift in the atmosphere, moved with equal speed, though less overtly, positioning himself on Y/N’s other side.

“Hey, Y/N,” Sonic began, trying to sound casual, but his voice was a little too high-pitched. He cleared his throat, a distinct "huff" of nervousness. “So, about today… and you know, us… spending time together.” He gestured vaguely between himself and Y/N, then back at Shadow who was intensely staring at him.

Shadow narrowed his eyes, stepping slightly closer to Y/N. “Hmph. What Sonic means to say is, after witnessing our… interactions all day, it should be quite evident who is the more… suitable companion.” He puffed his chest ever so slightly, a confident, almost arrogant challenge to Sonic.

They both stared at Y/N, their expressions a mix of hopeful anticipation and competitive tension. This was it. The moment of truth.

Y/N looked from Sonic to Shadow, her eyes wide with what they assumed was dawning realization. A sweet smile spread across her face, radiating genuine warmth and understanding.

“Oh, you guys!” Y/N exclaimed, her voice soft and heartfelt. “I’m so, so glad you brought this up! Honestly, I’ve been noticing it all day, and I just think it’s so sweet!”

Sonic’s quills bristled with sudden excitement. Shadow’s stoic veneer flickered with a rare hint of triumph. They leaned in, eager.

“I mean, the way you two bicker and then immediately back each other up, and how you’re always trying to out-do each other but somehow it just brings you closer! It’s clear you’re meant to be!”

The world seemed to stop.

Sonic’s bright green eyes, moments ago sparkling with confidence, went wide, then utterly blank. His jaw dropped, quite literally, to the grass.

Shadow, usually the picture of impassive cool, froze. His face, normally so composed, stretched into an expression of profound, unadulterated flabbergastedness. His mouth hung slightly open, like a broken automaton.

Y/N, completely oblivious to the catastrophic misinterpretation she had just unleashed, continued, beaming. “I was wondering when you’d finally make it official! Not that there’s anything wrong with that, of course! No judgement here! I totally support you guys! You make such a cute couple!” She even gave them a little thumbs-up.

In the background, a gasp rippled through their friends.

Rouge, who had been openly counting her betting winnings, bit her lip so hard she winced. But a moment later, a triumphant laugh escaped her, quickly stifled into a cough.

Amy, who had been holding her breath, let out a strangled squeal that sounded suspiciously like a dying hyena. She clapped a hand over her mouth, her shoulders shaking violently.

Tails, his analytical mind completely overloaded, short-circuited. A puff of smoke rose from his mechanical arm. “Error! Logic loop detected! Data corruption!”

Knuckles, who had been slowly piecing together the day’s events, exploded. A full, booming, unrestrained guffaw burst from him, echoing through the park. He slapped his knee repeatedly, tears streaming down his face. “Oh my Chaos! I knew it!” (He hadn't, but why let details ruin a good laugh?)

Silver and Blaze, who had held their poker faces with admirable discipline all day, finally broke. Silver clamped a hand over his mouth, his face turning bright red as silent convulsions wracked his body. Blaze, usually serene, let out a series of unladylike snorts, burying her face in Silver’s shoulder.

Sonic and Shadow, however, remained frozen. They slowly, painfully, turned their heads to look at each other. Their eyes met, not in rivalry, but in a shared, profound moment of existential crisis. The huffing had stopped. The circling had ceased. All that remained was raw, unadulterated bewilderment.

Y/N, still smiling, tilted her head. “So? Is it official, you two?”

Sonic, for once in his life, was completely speechless. Shadow, the Ultimate Life Form, found himself without a single coherent thought. The two hedgehogs, heroes, rivals, and now, apparently, a "cute couple," stared blankly at their friends erupting into uncontrollable laughter, and then back at the sweet, oblivious Y/N.

It was going to be a very long, awkward walk home for the self-proclaimed “Ultimate Life Form” and the “Fastest Thing Alive.” Especially if Y/N decided to hold their hands.

[eternal-love-song]

Darkless Star from a Lightless Tear

Siffrin finds something during his secret quest with Odile.

[Siffrin & Odile, Siffrin/Odile] [Post canon, Fluff]

The antique shop was tucked away into an almost hidden alcove of the town, hidden behind a tailor shop and a small cafe. Odile had spent the previous day searching the town, and thus today had acquired Siffrin's company for another of their secret quests.

It was the first that they had gotten to do since he'd been out of the loops. There had been a lot of avoiding towns in the immediate aftermath, trying to refrain from too familiar surroundings so that he wouldn't find himself panicking at some reminder that he didn't realize the weight of. Now, months and months later, he found himself easing back into the flow of things. So of course one of the first things that he did was join Odile on their usual excursions.

Out of everything that he had missed while he was avoiding towns and trying to heal and looking for ways to fit this new version of himself back into the group dynamics, he thought that this might have been one of the things that he missed most. There was something a little magical about searching through the old shops, finding strange and interesting relics of a culture that he still only barely understood. It was made even better by having Odile with him, someone to commiserate with over the oddities of Vaugardian culture and also to help untangle the bits that they already understood.

They often ended up on opposite sides, slowly circling each other as they perused different shelves and quietly commented upon their findings. It was nice. The stores were usually small enough that they'd often brush against each other as they passed from one side to the other and their whispered commentary could be easily heard by each other, while still not being loud enough for the store owner to hear. It was, in a way, intimate. The kind of easy intimacy that he didn't really have with anyone else. Casual, personal, warm.

Siffrin hoped that this would be one of the things that never changed between them.

They started with the bookshelves, trading comments on the condition of the books more than the content within. Then they spread out to the china, the knick knacks, lingering around the beautiful delicate things that they couldn't afford to keep while traveling as they were.

"Something like this, I think," Odile said, gesturing to a beautiful glass ornament of a flower that he was fairly sure only grew Vauguarde. "It reminds me of Mirabelle. It would be a good reminder of this journey, I think, if I could keep it."

"Where would you put it?" Siffrin questioned, moving closer so that he could get a better look at the trinket. "If you could keep it."

Odile hums briefly as she contemplates it. "I think it would look good on a mantle over a fireplace," she answered after a moment. "Beside similar trinkets I'd have to remind me of the rest of you."

Siffrin smiled at the image it brought to mind. He tried to picture what they would look like, all the pretty trinkets of his friends lined up in a row. "Think that should be our next quest?" he asked. "Looking for something to fit all of them?"

He knew that it wasn't practical to carry potentially delicate baubles like this around, but the idea of searching for them made him smile anyway. These trips were more about the fun of the search and sharing company than it was about actually buying anything anyway.

"Yes," Odile agreed with a nod. "I think that's a worthy quest." Her lips spread into a wry smile. "Might as well decorate an imaginary house with unbought trinkets."

Siffrin's smile widened. "You might say that the idea brings a lot of Trink-quality."

Odile rolled her eyes, but he still heard the small huff of a laugh that she tried to suppress. "That was awful."

"Still made you laugh," he said proudly. As much as he loved the big laughs that he was able to pull from Isabeau, there was something special about being able to make Odile give him that reluctantly amused smile of hers. She was a more difficult target, so he had to put in a lot more effort if he wanted his puns to land.

Not that he wouldn't still make a bad pun if he thought it would pull a reaction from her. Siffrin wasn't too picky about how he made her smile, as long as he did.

"Yes, well, let's not ruin the moment with anymore, shall we?"

Siffrin laughed. "Alright, alright," he agreed easily. Best to save them for when they'd have the best effect, after all.

They moved on to looking at different parts of the small shop. Corners crammed with pottery, dangling ornamentation hanging from the ceiling, and odd things hanging on the walls. Siffrin moved toward the back where the shelves were more crowded and less carefully arranged.

He paused at a part of the shelf that was overflowing with jewelry. Bracelets made with large wooden beads, old rings that could stand to be a bit more polished, and broaches meant to be pinned to the front of a cloak. He spent a bit of time picking through the pile of jewelry before he came across something surprising. "Oh!"

It was a pair of earrings, the only one in the pile. A thick lightless teardrop shape at the end of which was a darkless star. It was honestly lovely, and rare that he came across anything with stars on them. He also realized, after staring at them for a long moment and searching his mind for the memory that was struggling to surface, that they were bonding earrings.

"What have you got there?" Odile questioned, coming back to his side.

Siffrin turned to hold up the earrings so that she could see them. "It's a Vaugardian thing," he told her. "I don't remember if Mirabelle or Isabeau mentioned them before… bonding earrings."

"Ah yes," Odile nodded after a moment. So it must have been something that had come up since the time in the house, though maybe he hadn't been there for it. "Such a strange ritual, having to pierce one's ears just to show that you've partnered with someone."

"Yeah, you'd think they'd get in the way, right? Or like, caught in your hair if you wore it long," he said, contemplating the idea as he turned the earrings around and around in his hand.

"It does seem like it would be an inconvenience at best," Odile agreed.

Siffrin didn't think he wanted to have to pierce his ears, but also the earrings were too well made for him to want to put them back. He didn't have anything to remind him of his past other than his cloak, no memories or stories to fall back on, but he did have the stars. He had the Universe.

Odile tilted her head as she watched him. "What's on your mind, Siffrin?"

He sidestepped telling her his exact thoughts to bring up something a bit more related to the topic at hand. "What do they do in Ka Bue?" he asked. "To show that you have a partner?"

Odile tapped the side of her glasses where her gems hung. "It would be something similar to this. Matching gems, though how and where you wear them is up to the people involved. Some choose to have them pinned to their clothing or woven into a bracelet or necklace."

"I see," he said softly, mind whirling as he brought his gaze back to the earrings. "How do you think you would want to wear them?"

He looked up to Odile to see her raise an eyebrow, but she still answered him. "Seeing as my glasses are already occupied, I suppose pinning it to the front of my robe would be the least obtrusive."

"Yeah, the front of my cloak would probably be the same for me."

Odile placed a hand on her hip, giving him a wry smile. "Siffrin, do you have something you'd like to propose?"

He looked up at her with a bright smile of his own. "I don't know, do you have something you'd like to accept?" he asked.

The smile didn't fall from her face as she looked down at the earrings. "I don't think Vaugardians would be very appreciative of us breaking their customs," she said contemplatively.

"And it's not very likely that anyone would recognize such a Ka Buan ritual either," Siffrin added.

He wasn't suggesting anything. It would be kind of on the spot to bring up something like that if he was. He also wasn't… not suggesting it either. It was just a possibility being dangled out in the open, something that could be discussed later if needed or outright dismissed now if it wasn't viable.

Odile's expression was contemplative, directed first at him and then at the earrings themselves. "These are rather unique designs."

"They're stars," he told her. "You know, those darkless dots in the sky that come out at night."

"Ah, yes. And I suppose this design is particularly appealing to you?"

He nodded.

Odile's expression became a bit warmer as she reached out to ruffle his hair. "I think Isabeau and Mirabelle would be rather surprised if he sprung this on them out of nowhere."

Siffrin grinned. "But it would be kind of funny too, don't you think?"

She laughed. "That it would be."

Siffrin held the earrings a bit closer. "So we're agreed."

Siffrin really liked the smile Odile got when she was feeling particularly affectionate. He hoped to see it more often in the future. "We're agreed."

They spent a bit longer perusing the shelves together before Siffrin headed toward the front to buy the earrings. Even though he knew it would be a bit of hassle trying to keep it, he decided to buy the flower that reminded her of Mirabelle too. Maybe they wouldn't be able to hold onto it, but maybe they could look for something to keep it safe in while they traveled. It was just a possibility, right?

And if he smiled at the thought of being able to keep a small piece of his history and merge it with something of Odile's, that was alright because she smiled back at him just as warmly as before.

[tv-t1me]

[[ Mr. Tenna is a handful. A lot of handfuls. He is the kind of guy... that functions best with someone who doesn't let him take over. You've gotta demand that 50/50 split, don't let him go 60/40 or 90/10. You've got to set your own boundaries. Yknow? Because he's... probably not gonna do it for you haha,,

Case in point-- Mike. Or Mike(?). Whatever is going on there is not a healthy relationship, right? It didn't start out that way. But he quite literally throws a fit when he feels ignored, so his own workers tried to stop him by giving him what he wanted, made him feel important, gave him attention. They probably did this just because they felt obligated to-- but he didn't know that. So he starts visiting them in their room. They show no sign of rejecting him, so he takes it as an unmitigated invitation. They were always saying what he wanted to hear, like a feedback loop. He becomes reliant on that comfort. Then, he starts getting really personal with them, opening up about insecurities... They become his therapist. Now, he doesn't want to be alone with his thoughts, why don't you tuck him in and hang around until he snork mimis? You're his best friend, his number one guy!! Aren't you honored?? On and on until he accidentally becomes so demanding that he literally needed three Mikes to keep up with him.

And despite that... last bit about being tucked in-- he is a cynical old man in a ( at least, imaginary version of ) a very tough industry, he knows its not exactly professional-- that's why he'll deny the severity of it if he's asked. But he just can't resist the positive attention! He can't help pushing for a little more. Even if it means becoming a little too close to someone, even his own employee. Employees that are intimidated by him, by the way. And he'd never admit it, but that power dynamic does kind of keep them around, now doesn't it? That's almost... what all the power is for. Stopping people from leaving. Why else does he even need contracts?

Maybe he was always an attention hog, but his clinginess is a trait that definitely worsened a bit as the Dreemurrs stopped watching. And maybe a bit after his divorce Spamton left, too. ]]

[justafriendlystranger]

New member~

:Introduction:

This is Caleb Otis! A teenager who's barely surviving in a destroyed city, in an apocalyptic timeline. There has been a virus that's rapidly been spreading around the world called the "Necroa Virex" It is a brutal, highly contagious disease that doesn't create zombies but instead destroys its victims from the inside out, leaving them conscious of their slow decline—a fate that terrifies both the infected and the healthy.

This virus spreads rapidly through airborne particles and direct contact, making it one of the most contagious viruses in history. As the infection rate skyrockets, cities become overwhelmed, and medical systems buckle under the sheer number of patients, unable to provide care for the masses. With no known cure, governments enforce extreme quarantine measures, which only heighten fear and isolation among the population. Civil unrest grows as people, desperate to avoid infection, turn against one another. Mistrust spreads just as quickly as the virus, fracturing communities and pushing society toward collapse.

Like Sylas, He fights and fends for himself but with him it's much more extreme. He kills every survivor he comes across with to take anything that can help him survive longer, his only main objective is to survive alone cause he's extremely distrustful of the very few people he sees, either from the virus or from the same mentality that he has.

:How he met Trickster/how he became a member:

He met Trickster when he was scavenging for food, he saw her without any protected gear which led him to believe that she is already infected. He sneaks out behind her and strikes her from behind with a sledgehammer and kills her, but seeing that she has nothing on her, he continued his journey like nothing happened,,, but what he didn't expect is to see her again.. It's been a few weeks since he saw her and he was sure he left her on the ground bloodied and broken, to the point she's unrecognizable,, but there she is, in the same spot wearing the same clothes.. It's probably the stress of the situation he is in right now,, maybe the first is just a hallucination. And maybe this time she has something on her that'll help him, so like before he kills her again... It's driving him insane cause he feels like he's stuck in a loop cause he saw her again in the same spot, wearing the same clothes and very much alive with no injuries. (ah yes, typical Trickster with her psychological torture ^///^) He can't do this anymore so he tried a different approach, he went in front of her, talking to her.. "who are you and how are you doing that?" he said. And that was the start of their 'freindship'! of course Caleb was very skeptical about her so it took Trickster over a year and a half to fish him out of his comfort zone and get him to convince that he has a place for him where he doesn't have to fight everyday for survival,, and she knows he wants that more than anything,,,

:Info:

General info! he's around 17-19, he's 5'8, his birthday is December 28. He suffers from severe PTSD and still thinks that there's a virus around, that's way he's very hostile to visitors and the family members. He kills visitor cause he believes that they might bring the virus inside the house and he thinks the family members are either also unclean or just a figment of his imagination cause no amount of people can survive at this point.. Well maybe except for trickster, but he thinks she's just playing along with his delusions (which he appreciates). He believes that the house is just some sort of bunker and that's why trickster isn't letting him outside. It's kinda hard to talk to him cause he thinks people there are just in his mind, he'll still answer but just vague ones.

:His relationship with the other milkshake mansion members:

Trickster: friend Casimir: infected member that needs to die Rosemary: a nice imaginary friend Chaoxiang: who? Willow: neutral Hayden: a quiet hallucination The twins: infected member that needs to die Penelope: an annoying hallucination Elijah: neutral ( @gachaclubideas) Talissa: neutral ( @gachaclubideas) Juliet: neutral ( @gachaclubideas) Tsutsuji: a quiet hallucination ( @n0vatsu) Yoake: neutral ( @n0vatsu) Star: a quiet hallucination ( @startheimpactfangirl ) Kema Umi: a quiet hallucination ( @alcohol1maid ) Trevore: an annoying hallucination ( @edgywithaheart )

Milkshake mansion belongs to @boiling-potato !!

he's already open for asks!! ^^

(his normal clothes when he's not in the milkshake mansion)

[imaginedreamwrite]

Ghost, Ghost, Host

Part 2: Questions

“Are you done screaming yet?” That question played on an infinite loop in your mind as you tried to grapple with the mental break you were clearly suffering from. You couldn’t have been hearing voices let alone seeing a soldier wearing tactical gear in your apartment.

You couldn’t have seen or heard something that wasn’t real, and it was very obviously a delusion you were suffering from. It had to have been because anything else was improbable.

“Ya go from screaming to silence and then hiding. I hope ya know you can’t hide from me lass.” The voice had echoed in your ears again, a Scottish accent that was farr to aduble to be possible. And a set of blue eyes that were as striking as they were improbable, because he couldn’t be here, and he couldn’t be a ghost.

“You’re not real, I'm clearly suffering from a mental breakdown.” You laughed bitterly and ironically, the sound contorted from your lips as you genuinely struggled to comprehend what you were seeing. “This is all some kind of twisted delusion.”

The way you paced around your apartment was more than a way for you to try and come to terms with what this thing was saying. It was a way for you to try and escape it following you, to find a place of security in your home.

When you were younger, you’d had an imaginary friend like most little kids, an imaginary friend that helped keep your loneliness away. It was a friend that you’d play tea parties with and pretend to explore your growing world with, but never would you have imagined this.

Never would you have thought you'd be plagued with a Scottish...something...in your home now.

“Sage, I need sage.” You stopped short in the kitchen, your barefeet skidding against the floor and pinned the tip of your thumb between your bottom and top teeth. You made a sound under your breath as you thought, your eyes trailing along the confines of your kitchen as if you were hoping to find what sage.

As if you'd had a stash hidden among the cheap wooden cupboards and the aged backsplash behind the sink. Like that was something you though you would always need to have with you as if it were water. You weren’t one to ever really believe in ghosts or cryptids, and anything in between, however it seemed as if you were proven wrong.

“Thought you said I wasn’t real.” The retort comes with a cocky grin that appears on the face of this thing haunting your apartment. While your attention was drawn from the task of opening and shutting the cupboards to find anything useful.

“You’re not real, this is all happening in my head. I'm losing my mind-” you rambled to yourself while continuing your path around your small apartment. You move from the small square table that you'd gotten second hand, past the two chairs on either side of the table, and back to the living room.

You paced in your living room, only completing the same path twice before you ran into the corner of your coffee table. You winced and your hand at once moved to your leg, fingers rubbing the afflicted part of your leg, where the edge would leave a bruise.

You exhaled a curse under your breath, the jolt of the table drawing your attention toward the journals that had rested on top. The one you'd only gotten halfway through was still open and laying in the center of the table with a sketch of some beach at the bottom.

“Can’t argue with ya losing your mind, lass. But I’m as real as that book.” The voice was closer to you, the Scottish brogue was right next to you, which had immediately been followed by the flutter of a hand against yours. “Those’re my journals, I’m Johnny “Soap” MacTavish.”

“What the actual fuck?!” Your mind was desperately trying to process what was going on, a desperation to put the pieces together as you negated the reality in front of you. “This isn’t happening-“

“-I’m attached to the journals, where they go, I go.” He walked around you, picking up one of the journals before he turned it over and ran his gaze up and down the spine. “Lost these in the flight home then.”

The way he said flight home made dread rock you to your core, an overhanging depressive jolt of sadness that darkened the room. You watched him—regardless of you not believing he was real—and listened.

The flight home, his body was empty, his soul was attached to the journals in your possession. Which had rightly only raised more questions than not and left you searching for answers.

“Why-“ you started to ask and stopped yourself, immediately scolding yourself for giving into this faux delusion. “-never mind. You’re not real.”

You stare at the living room window and watch the storm that only picks up pace. The wind blasts rain against the sliding balcony door, and flashes of lightning are seen streaking across the sky. Thunder booms as loud as before, and with the combination of wind, rain and lightning the lights start to flicker again.

“Aye, it’s far more likely that you’re suffering a mental break than seeing a ghost.” The voice makes your attention shift from the storm back to him.

He’s sitting on your furniture, left arm stretched across the back of the couch while his right hand holds the journal. He’s not looking at you, he’s reading the journal he absolutely swears is his, while mumbling under his breath.

You were tired, you weren’t entirely sure you were seeing and hearing what you were. And yet you couldn’t help but allow the word vomit to spill out from your mouth.

“If you’re a ghost, how the hell did you end up with a stranger instead of your family? Why can you touch me? Can you walk through walls? Why can you sit on furniture?” You set your hands on your hips, you stared the thing down while he slowly lowered the journal to his lap.

He was there, with the bloody right shoulder or his shirt, the khaki tactical vest with the UK flag as a patch. The role of sergeant was stitched into the vest and he was sitting there watching you with the kind of intensity you were looking at him with. Hie blue eyes were slightly crinkled at the corners as his eyes narrowed after a moment of silent staring, and then he had slowly tilted his head.

“My family didn’t want the journals obviously. My ma and my sisters had a fight with me before I joined the SAS, they didn’t want me to go further into the military. We had a falling out.” He closes the journal with a snap and sets it aside, speaking to you as if he’s entirely bored with the conversation.

“They’re your family-” your comment makes that level of disinterest shift to something else and even if it’s brief, it shifts again as he speaks over you.

“I can walk through walls, I can pick up and hold some things but not others. I can sit on furniture and I can touch you, cause you believe I exist.” He leans forward and rests his elbows on his knees, his hands folded in front of him.

“Bullshit, I still think I'm crazy.” You countered him again and shifted positions and postures, to cross your arms over your chest and take a stance of defensiveness. “And this is all some kind of deluded nightmare.”

The living room was briefly illuminated further than before, with the lightning that flashed across the sky. The bad weather hadn’t seemed to be stopping at any point soon, and there was a twisted kind of irony to the storm outside that seemed to perfectly match the chaos in here. Or at least the chaos that was going on in your head.

“And what if I didn’t believe? How does that even work? If you died, why are you here?” Your questions were fired off in rapid succession while you had turned your head to stare at the clock on the wall. The numbers mocking you and the vast amount of overthinking you’d done since he had showed up.

It was now after midnight, the hours between you picking up the journals, reading them and being plagued by this ghost seemed like they took place days ago. You went back and forth with the idea that you were crazy and the idea that ghosts could be real.

An endless loop between doubt and belief.

“I’m not finished, I have things I still have to do.” That was the only question he answered, the only response he had given you, and that was it.

Silence fell between you two, stagnant and awkward. You didn’t know how to react next, how to deal with the ghost that you still didn’t exactly believe in. In the end you had turned away from him and gathered as much as you could of your things and moved toward your bedroom. You left the living room and the ghost behind you, the journals remain on the coffee table and entered your room.

You closed the door behind you and dropped your phone to your nightstand and began removing your sweater. As it was dropped to the basket in the corner, you felt the weight of the day’s exhaustion settling upon your shoulders. You exhaled, feeling foggy headed and drained, and wondered if when you woke up the next morning if this would all seem like a dream.

You removed layers until you could change into something comfortable to sleep in, and then after all that you found the comfort of your bed. Your back hit the mattress, your head hit the pillow, and your eyes were fixated upon the ceiling above you. You stared at the smooth surface of your apartment that felt too small to justify the price and waited.

You waited for noise, you waited for a voice, you waited for the lights to be cut out in the city. It didn’t matter what it actually was that you were waiting for, it was the wait that mattered.

You listened to the thunder, you watched the reflection of the lightning reflecting on the ceiling, all while you tried to prompt your brain to shut off for the night. There was such a battle between feeling like you were crazy and accepting the reality that there was a ghost here, and one that only you could see.

“Ye want me to sing ya a lullaby to put you to sleep?” The voice returned, armed to the teeth with sarcasm, and you turned your head. You watched the soldier who was apparently hitched to you now through the journals, standing by the bed. His arms were crossed over his broad chest, and his blue eyes were fixed upon you with furrowed eyebrows and a slight scowl.

“Can’t you go do something else?” The question lingers in the air, and there’s another rush of awkwardness before he steps closer to the bed and stares at you with a growing smirk. It makes you want to reach out and smack him, to throw something at this ghost in your apartment.

“I gotta say bonnie, I was surprised you didn’t ask my name.” He eventually sits on the edge of the bed, and you watch for the bed to dip but it doesn’t.

It just adds to the mystery and the intrigue of this whole screwed up situation.

“I don’t care because you’re not real.”

“My names John “Soap” MacTavish.” He ignores your comment and runs his eyes long you tucked under your blankets and resting on the bed.

“Why Soap?” You rolled your eyes and scoffed, angling your body in order to get more of a head on look at him. But to your annoyance he doesn’t answer your question how you'd like.

Rather he leans in, smirks again and winks your way. “That’s classified, lass.”

[teddydeer]

hi! im wondering if anyone has any advice on something im struggling with creatively ;; its hard to articulate but its about making oc's, self expression, identity and trauma

so i used to make oc's all the time when i was younger. they were characters filled with so much soul and personality and little pieces of me but ive really lost the ability to make them bc of my mental health. i really struggle with my identity, not gender and sexuality but my personality and who i am as a person. theres been so many times where ive tried to be a different person, either because of masking or out of self hatred, and ive had many different people tell me many different contrasting things about myself so i feel like a ghost. i can tell you i like the color pink, i love pokemon and tamagotchis and im an artist but it feels so surface level, and it translates to the characters i make now. theyre all focused on design and appearance, like theyre either based on a dessert or theyre a gijinka of a pokemon and that expresses my interests and tastes but i miss having more than that. i miss characters that i could tell you what their favorite kind of weather is, what they carry around in their bag, or what their voice sounds like, and i would be able to connect that back to myself. for example, ive had this oc named wesley since i was 15. he is warm, softhearted, caring and paternal. he is all about nature and is a homesteader. i know he's like this because my dad and his house has always been so comforting and safe. my dad cares about me more than anything, he raised me to love nature and his house has always been a sanctuary to me. everything about wesley has to do with things i found safety and comfort in. i didnt make him like this consciously though, i was just creating, cringe free and without thinking about expressing myself, it just happened naturally and im able to reflect on it. i really think analyzing oc's like this again would help me heal. working backwards like that is a language that really clicks with me and i think would be really helpful in getting to know who i am. "this character is like this, they like these things, they speak this way - what does that say about me? what piece of me is that? where does that come from?" is a kind of structure i can really work with, but ive forgotten how to make ocs bc theyre so personal, and i dont feel like a person. its a whole loop! i think basically what im asking is how do i make oc's again? how do i express and get to know myself deeper than "i like these colors and these video games?" how do i express my personality when i feel like i dont have one? i dont really experience self hatred anymore because theres not a person to form an opinion on. everything is just blank and lonely without my silly imaginary friends for grown ups ;;

[electronicclowncollector]

Chapter 7: Christmas chapter

(This is not chapter 5 and doesn't have a specific time that it takes place yet. also happy holidays everyone).

(edit: This is now chapter 7)

Today was Fioremas day and Rogue was so excited because of 2 things. First, he was invited to a party with a few of Sting’s friends to celebrate and have fun. Rogue wasn’t a very social person, he wasn’t like other guys, while they went out and partied, played ball and kissed girls or boys, Rogue was different, he stayed inside and read books about dragons with his cat frog and most of all, he didn’t kiss anyone, not yet at least. And second, most importantly, he got a whole lot of books on dragons that he could read, and he was so excited, nobody would see him until the new year because he would be in his room all day reading his new dragon books.

After about 3 hours of talking to his cat frog Fresh about dragons, the time of the party arrived. Rogue decided to tie his hair up in a messy bun and wore a scarf of tinsel for the Fioremas spirit. Another gift Rogue received was a tshirt with a really cool dragon on it, so he wore that under his jacket. He would die of embarrassment if anyone saw it because in bold text it said “I closed my dragon book to be here”, and while he liked it he knew normies like Sting’s friends wouldn’t. Rogue entered Sting’s house, where the party took place. It was so big compared to Rogue’s apartment, and It was fully decorated too, he really was fully prepared for the party. He headed to where he heard the most noise and there were so many people, it scared Rogue, he barely recognised most of them. Then he saw Sting across the room and suddenly called out louder then expected, “Hi Sting!”. He blushed with embarrassment as everyone stopped talking and looked at Rogue, with the exception of Yukino, one of Rogues classmates, who was talking to her boyfriend who Rogue wasn’t quite familiar with. She remembered her talking about him in class and saying he was from quite far away.

 Sting looked to Rogue and grinned “Hey Rogue! Glad you could make it! Come on over and talk with us!”.

Rogue blushed and walked over to Sting and the people he were talking to and froze the moment he saw Bullyslow, he was wearing some ugly outfit with some weird hat with a hole in it. Rogue decided to ignore Bullyslow and tried his best to talk to Sting, Sting was just so cool that it was hard not to zone out staring at his face. However, Rogue held strong and managed to contribute to the conversation and even went 5 minutes without bringing up dragons.

At one point, Bullyslow was feeling angry that Sting and Rogue got along so well, so he ‘accidentally’ spilled his drink on Rogues jacket. “Whoopsie! Sorry dude, let me help with that” he said, pulling it off. Bickslow had originally intended to just show Sting that Rogue was really weak, he had no idea about the tshirt beneath it, but when he saw it he burst out laughing and Sting leaned down to read it.

“I closed my dragon book to be here!” Sting exclaimed reading the tshirt, “Typical Rogue, your so funny aren’t you?” he said, ruffling Rogue’s hair and making his messy bun even messier.

Rogue grinned and blushed, watching Bullyslow seethe with rage. That was the last straw for Bickslow, so he took out his ultimate weapon, a stick with a mistle toe on it. It was Fiore tradition that the two men that stand under a mistle toe must kiss, which was why Bickslow’s hat had the hole in it. He put the Mistle Toe into the hole in his hat and blushed, twirling imaginary hair in his finger, “Hey Stingy… look up…” he said

Sting looked up and gasped at the Mistle toe. He blushed himself out of embarrassment as Bickslow puckered up and leaned in, but then Sting found a loop hole, as both bickslow Rogue and Sting were under the Mistletoe, so he looked Rogue in the eyes with a smile, Rogue blushed and closed his eyes as Sting picked him up…

And that was how Rogue got his first kiss… he opened his eyes and… BICKSLOW?!?!? Sting wasn’t very smart, so his plan was actually to get Rogue to kiss Bickslow instead of him. Bickslow squealed and pointed at rogue, “Y- you baka! Pervert! U- UWU” he said before rushing out of the room in tears. That was the most memorable Christmas Rogue would have until next year.

[idontmindifuforgetme]

hello! i also don't have instagram (and personally i've really enjoyed my time having) but i wanted to also ask how/what your experience has been without it (and also ashstfu's if they want to share :))

p.s. i love your blog mwah!!

Ash has absolutely no regrets hahaha. Like she gives no fucks about not having ig at all. It makes sense bc she’s a lowkey person to begin with / prefers to stay out of the loop. The pros outweigh the cons for me as well, but I’ll give you a comprehensive list anyway so you can make your own conclusions. Hope this helps <3

Cons:

There’s less to talk about w your friends. Unless you talk w that particular friend on a daily basis, not many people will be good about updating you about their lives. I actually found that watching people’s stories helps me start a conversation w them on whatever their stories were about, whereas if you don’t have insta you kind of have to dig. A lot of people are just used to others watching their stories rather than actually having a conversation about it, so this could impede communication w more casual friends (or even close ones honestly if they’re just bad at socializing, which a lot of people are now precisely due to apps like ig).

Lots of casual friendships will fizzle out. Insta is perceived as more casual than text, so many people would rather text you through ig rather than something like iMessage. This shouldn’t be a big con if you don’t care about superficial friends to begin w, but if you do it might be a dramatic change / might start to feel lonely.

Small, independently owned businesses love to update through ig, so if you follow those you’ll need another source to stay in the loop through. Same goes w album drops / tours / tickets. That kind of information is almost always shared through Instagram first.

Orgs love to update through insta as well, whether it be your uni orgs or nonprofit orgs. You’ll have to work a little harder to extract information your peers might have acquired just by checking their stories.

I used to follow the paris review / ny times / the new yorker / the washington post etc etc, and I actually really enjoyed their daily posts/stories. Same goes for the once-a-day poem accounts I followed. This is an easy fix tho bc I just substituted it w subscribing to their daily newsletters / one poem a day newsletters, but if you’re not into that maybe take this into consideration.

You kind of become?? A ghost??? The moment you decide to eschew an ig presence, you become inconvenient to a lot of people who couldn’t be bothered to hit you up & learn what’s going on in your life. So definitely prepare to find out who really cares and who doesn’t when you deactivate insta hahahah. This was a pro to me, but I can understand why it’s a con for a lot of people who like their casual networks.

Pros:

You don’t have the compulsion to check on anybody else. At all. Which is good, bc the human brain is absolutely not designed to know what 800 people are doing at any given moment. It’s too much. It leaves you burned out bc of media consumption overload, but not many people realize this. I realized it once I deactivated Insta & magically started having a will to live again hahah.

You won’t be in an imaginary competition w other people. Instagram is all about glamor. It’s all about fabricating a life that does not actually exist, for the purpose of impressing people you don’t actually know. Once you have insta out of your system, you’ll stop comparing your life w the make-believe lives people on Instagram want you to think are actually real. I had a very bad phase of comparing myself bc of ig, so deactivating it really helped me not be so hard on myself.

No FOMO. You won’t feel like you constantly have to be updated on your insta feed. You don’t need to know what celebrity selfie #827262626 is or story #2728727 is about.

You won’t feel the dying need to be perceived. Every trip isn’t about taking pictures you can post on your ig. Every good thing in your life doesn’t have to be something that gets broadcasted to your followers. You’ll enjoy sweet moments in the privacy of your own mind, and you’ll go somewhere for the simple joy of going somewhere rather than posting about it for validation, and you’ll be more present in general. Big pro for me. Very big pro.

No creeping your significant other’s insta to see who they followed, what they liked, etc. Blessed to have never fallen victim to this.

You’ll actually discover who your real friends are—the people who actually make the effort to hit you up to know what you’re up to, rather than choose the path of least resistance (liking your picture and moving on with their lives a second later).

Less time on your phone!!! This is so important. This genuinely scares me sometimes, bc imagine how many hours it would be if you summed every hour you spent glued to your phone over your whole life. The answer will always be too many. We already have so little time on this earth. Digital minimalism really is the way to go if you want to live a life you won’t abhor on your deathbed. This is not impossible to achieve while also having an ig, but this app has been designed by several people to be as addictive as possible. Sometimes deactivating it is better than simply minimizing it.

[stupidvillainousposts]

Fuck it, I've Been Listening to the "Hate Monologue" on Loop and Thought About Bill

Plus, I haven't really gone into too much depth about how he affects the pups when Stan and Fidds can't fight against him, so here's a little treat, courtesy of fucking Dipper up

Dipper (In Dream): *Walks Around in a Golden Field* Whoa...

Bill, disguised as a golden doe with one dead eye: Beautiful, isn't it?

Dipper: *Yelps and Jumps Back Slightly* Who are you?!

Bill: Oh, no one special. *Strides Close to Dipper, Keeping a Decent Distance* Just... a friend.

Dipper, narrowing his eyes: I don't have a deer friend.

Bill: Well, that's not true! You have me!

Dipper: *Scoffs* I don't even know you! You're a stranger, and Papa Stan and Papa Fidds told me to never talk to strangers!

Bill: You're talking to me, aren't you?

Dipper, realizing his mistake: Oh.

Bill: *Chuckles Sweetly* Sweet little pup, you have such a kind heart, but are so... misguided.

Dipper: How would you know? You don't know me!

Bill: Oh, but I do. You see, I am what one would call a... Figment.

Dipper: "Figment"? Like... an imaginary friend?

Bill: Something along those lines. *Subtly Moves Closer to Dipper* Though I'm a bit more real.

Dipper: Really? Then... why are you only in my dream?

Bill: Because, little one, Figments can only exit the mind if their friend allows them to. I need permission from you to take on a physical form.

Dipper, suspiciously: And why would I do that?

Bill: To protect you, of course. *Smiles at Dipper's Confused Expression* I've seen the world through your eyes, darling. Oh, you've been through so much. Hopping from heart to heart, searching for a true place of comfort after being abandoned-

Dipper: I wasn't abandoned! Mom and Dad are just... having an argument.

Bill: A fairly long argument by the looks of it, no?

Dipper: *Whimpers Softly* Sometimes arguments last a long time.

Bill: *Nods* True. But think; if your parents truly cared about the wellbeing of you and your sister-

Dipper: Wait, you know Mabel?

Bill, ignoring the question: Wouldn't they have kept checking in?

Dipper: *Hesitates* They... they're busy. They haven't had time.

Bill: Yet if they had, do you think they would care enough to help you through... this? Not to mention... *Quietly* The adoption.

Dipper: The what?

Bill: Didn't you know? They gave your uncles permission to adopt. Gave them permission to take and keep you. I suppose I'm just a bit more knowledgeable in this instance.

Dipper: So... they aren't taking us back?

Bill, feigning sympathy: I'm afraid not, pup. And what a time to make such a big decision. Stanley and Fiddleford with their engagement atop their aggression towards that small child. And don't even get me started on their hatred for Stanford.

Dipper: What? T-they don't hate Great Uncle Ford!

Bill: Are you sure? He attacked Stanley, has given you and your sister plenty of dirty looks; I'm surprised he hasn't acted upon his instincts. *Gasps Softly* Oh, the pain I'd feel if any of you got hurt because of Stanford! He seems dangerous to me, too dangerous to be around alone.

Dipper: Is... I don't... Do you really think so?

Bill: *Getting Close Enough to Nuzzle Against Dipper* I would never lie to you. I just want what's best.

Dipper: What am I gonna do? He's the leader of the pack!

Bill: Remember when I said we could see each other out there? All it takes is your permission, and I could handle him for you.

Dipper: I don't know... Papa Stan would be sad if his brother got hurt.

Bill: I understand. Take a day or so to think on it. Study Stanford's actions. The moment he does something unforgivable, just call my name. Say that I have permission to enter your world. Say it as loud as you can.

Dipper: *Nods* What, um... what is your name?

Bill, as the fields start to burn and fade away: Just call me... Bill.

Dipper, waking up: *Gasps Softly*

Mabel, noticing Dipper's sudden awakening: Dipper? Are you okay?

Dipper: Uh, yeah. Yeah, I'm- *Looks Out the Window and Sees a Doe* I'm... fine.