#it's been a while and i don't remember most of it

[chrissv4mp]

VIDEOS GIRLFRIEND!BILLIE WOULD SEND YOU .ᐟ

NEW MESSAGE! ⟶ bils: lookin 4 something???

the video starts quickly—billie holding her phone up above her head, resting comfortably in what looks to be the couch on her tour bus. she hums softly, a soothing melody that you wish you had the chance to hear again face-to-face. then the camera pans back down, her fingers fumbling with the device before successfully setting it onto the couch opposite of where she was perched.

it's only then do you realize what she's wearing—a purple hoodie that's quite similar to yours... and as you squint, trying to remember where you recognize it from. before the answer can click in your mind, billie speaks up.

"i know you're probably wondering where i got this," she grins, cheekily. "or maybe you're wondering why i have this?" she adds, smile breaking out wider. "and—okay, don't blame me—but i snuck it in my bag before tour..."

your favorite hoodie.

and, clearly, hers as well.

"but!" she exclaims, then whips her head to the side at the sound of one of the cabin bunks creaking. then, quieter, "but i wanted to know that you're always here—or, at least, a part of you."

you can see the pink tint of her cheeks flushing even in the dim lighting of the tour bus, and it only becomes more apparent as she pulls the hood further down—covering her face in embarrassment as she giggles quietly, the sound muffled behind the thick, cozy fabric of your hoodie. the one that you'd been losing your mind while trying to find over the past few days. guess it's a huge weight lifted off your chest knowing that the person you trust most has it.

the room goes quiet for a moment too long—and then a long yawn rips through billie's throat, resulting in the girl lifting her arms up and stretching dramatically, a habit you'd also picked up on a few months into the relationship. billie sits up, scooting to the edge of the cushions and snatching up her phone again. she pulls the device close to her face, anything below her nose unseen in the camera.

"okay, well," she exhales, sleepy. "that's my cue."

her eyes flick to the camera, pulling the phone away a bit to grin at you through the phone. "i love you, pretty girl. i'll call tomorrow... if the timezones aren't fucked up—but if they are, still expect a call. just... later."

she blows a kiss, a tired smile pulling at her lips. "g'night."

NEW MESSAGE! ⟶ bils: i'd wanna fuck me too !!

"damn," billie purrs, tilting her head to the side. the sunlight from the open curtains of her hotel room illuminate her face. her lips part, eyes flitting across the screen—checking herself out shamelessly. "not to be conceded but... i see why you want me all the time, baby," she teases, leaning back on the couch, maroon and plush.

her hair is in a low bun, loose strands falling on her neck—so effortlessly perfect it's almost like she pulled them out herself. the video is nearly silent for a few seconds, the low hum of the A/C in the background setting a soft, quiet mood, almost like she's at home. her shoulders are relaxed, brows not furrowed like you'd seen them the last time she jumped onto facetime with you.

billie whistles low as she sets her phone down on the table, probably propped against her water bottle. "holy shit, i might actually start drooling over myself right now," she smiles, turning her head to the side and humming upon seeing the sharp line of her jaw.

"woah," she muses, giggling as she turns back to face the camera. "okay, baby—i need to call you, like, now."

she grabs her phone, tugging it off the table. the video still plays for a moment, even while billie looks like she's deep into finding your contact. then, with a quiet—needy—huff from between billie's pouty lips, the video ends.

NEW MESSAGE! ⟶ bils: bts for europe pt2... ur lucky...

the first thing you notice is her camera—not her phone, but an actual camera. the thought of billie taking the time to export the video off the camera just for you already had your heart warming. what made your heart warmer was simply just seeing her face, inverted in the mirror yet still looking as beautiful as ever. the camera view shakes a little in the awkward position of her hand, moving a bit closer—showing the background of what seemed to be a closed shop.

"aaahh!" she whispers, mouth opening in a low roar. her nose scrunches as she takes a step back, focusing the camera on the clean mirror for a second longer before stepping away fully and showing you where she was.

there's multiple racks of her merchandise—a plethora of reds, blues, yellows, and whites, colors that she'd been fixated on even before the meetings for her tour plans began. you remember her always coming home with boxes of her first samples of hoodies and t-shirts. unbeknownst to you, she'd ordered one of each sample in your size—feigning surprise whenever you slid the piece of fabric on and found out that it fit you perfectly.

her voice breaks throught the quiet murmur employees in the background. "nobody passing by knows that i'm in here... well, except for you," she thinks out loud, voice trailing off. "wait, but you're not passing by, so—nevermind, still counts."

"this is going in the vlog, by the way," billie announces in a quiet whisper, like it's a secret. "and you're the first person to seee!! i'm so excited for this next part, baby, you don't even know."

her shoes pad on the concrete floors, the camera view getting closer and closer to a rack of multiple hoodies, the designs varying—fabric in red with a graphic of billie from her rolling stone photoshoot ranging from a darker black hoodie featuring a lighter graphic of her name and a photo taken on her latest tour stop, amsterdam.

"dude, this shit is so sick," she admires, flipping the camera to show her happy expression. "might have to get a few to take home to you—gosh, you'd look amazing in the red."

then, she comes closer, murmuring much quieter, "and, preferably, nothin' underneath..." quickly, the camera pulls away from her face.

"okay bye!"

NEW MESSAGE! ⟶ bils: BERLINNNNN

billie's hand is on her cheek, jaw open wide in faux surprise as she points at a poster of herself with her free hand—eyes wide as she frantically taps against the window like she's seeing something that's a once in a lifetime experience. someone—ava—giggles behind the camera, shaking the view for a moment to point at the poster as well, a surprised gasp of her own falling from between her lips.

they're standing outside a shop, the window showcasing a display of billie's latest perfume release—your turn. the gates were still closed due to the early hour, the sun still slowly rising above the mountains. ava zooms in on billie just as she sticks her tongue out—then, unexpectedly, she sprints off camera, nearly tripping over her jeans with her suddenly fast steps. ava trails not too far behind, giggling.

"billie, i'm coming go the show tonight!" someone screams in the distance, loud enough for the camera to pick it up.

she doesn't stop running, and neither does ava—her head just whips around as she stuffs a hand into her pocket, her smile clear in the way she screams, "love you!"

"i love you!" the fan screams back, and ava can't hold in the giggles crawling up her throat.

ava chases after billie until they tumble into the back of their car, breathing heavily as their backs finally hit the seats, lips parted to take the chance to breathe after the sudden interaction. her blue eyes meet the camera again, a dopey smile playing at the corners of her lips. she slumps in her seat, falling to the side and laying across her side of the car with a few quiet chuckles. ava joins in on the laughter, the little sounds escaping billie's throat contagious.

"that was... unexpected," ava comments through her fit of giggles, the words cut off a bit at the end due to the engine of the car rumbling to life.

billie nods. "ugh, i love them," she huffs, pushing herself up again and buckling herself in. the click of a seatbelt echoes in the camera speakers as ava does the same. "if we weren't in a rush i would've ran over and tackled them."

ava huffs a laugh.

"lightly—" billie clarifies. then, with a deep squint of her eyes, hums and whispers, "maybe not, actually. don't wanna catch an assault charge in the middle of tour..."

the blonde behind the camera hums. "they'd probably cherish the bruise, billie."

billie bursts out into laughter—then, the video cuts.

letters. will this get me out of the motivation drought.... fingers are tightly crossed rn bcus i have something big and exciting planned 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

tags. @mseilishmwah @sophloveswomen @love4madii @livvydunneness @chxhir0 @loving1dsworld @tan1shere @fallingforfalll2 @cierraonline @dandelions4us @scarlittt @ifwdominicfike @slxtarchive @bilsdillldough @47lake @hopingforgoodblogs @mybluebossanova @fleurfiles @justtr @greenbttrflyy @billsbaby @bilsova @lottiepierce @northlndnisred @asterisk-eyes @dragoneyelashart @xxangelfarrlzxx @ilomiloblohshh @ma1spa @meliciousmel13 @jul3esz @rightarion @svelish @eilishssiennaa @skinnyhmhas @dragoneyelashart @thinkshespretty @cnnibalize @canthelpit0 @hailwiggly @karaeilish @bilswifee @drunkinyourbenz @aka-persephone @bitchesbrokenpromises @jayjaywetforbils @slvt4subchratt @cantlandonmyfeet @tezzzzzzzz @emi-inspace

[pearlfull]

party on u ( part of u knew )

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ SYNOPSIS: 〝 You know that I've been waiting for you. 〞 Batboys x Reader. ⋆˚࿔ A/N: Heavily inspired by Charli XCX and the devastating edits to this song lol. Dick's is the most literal interpretation of the song. Jason's weird. I love Tim Drake. Yearning bro. I'm taking requests + commissions! More details on that soon. Help a college girl save for car repairs<3

ᯓ★ DICK GRAYSON.

IT WAS SOMETHING UNSPOKEN YET PRESENT. You weren’t just friends. But you didn't call it love either.

It started with shared takeout food.

Shaky laughter while pinning you on the ground during training. Late night text messages. Sleepless nights spent on the same couch. Dick's hand laced yours in the dark, and he tried to match your breath's rhythm as you fell asleep on his chest, fingers curling into your sleep shirt.

Eventually, there were white tulips he brought after work and Bruce was asking about you.

He was always careful with you.

Because he'd done the song and routine before. Been left with the kind of bruises in places you couldn't see.

There were nights when he'd leave before you woke. He'd left you coffee on your nightstand like it was a consolation prize. And you let him. Let him stay his welcome way too long, and then let him disappear for a couple days. Maybe it was stupid, but it was better than nothing.

wonderboy i didn’t want to miss you tonight i already do when you’re still in the room

You hadn't seen him in weeks. Not out of anger, not resentment. Still. It was on purpose. On both ends.

You'd stop asking if he wanted you to pick up candy for him at the grocery store and he had stopped asking when he could see you again. Maybe he had thought if he pulled away it would go away.

The invitation felt like a test. An unspoken, come if you still care. Or come so I know you haven't stopped.

It's his birthday, and silver balloons litter the hallway, and Donna laughter is already ringing through as you step in, and Roy's throwing gummy bears into Wally's glass.

You're wearing something that made you feel braver than you were, black fabric clinging to your hips--looking through the crowd with a tight chest.

His grin was the center of the room. His bright blue eyes found yours, and he didn't come over. His pupils were blown.

Kept staring, almost comically. Wondering if whether he still had the right to do that, even though he'd invited you. And you came. And he had worn that cologne you'd mentioned you'd loved, and even had tried to make his hair fall nicely. He kind of felt like a thirteen year old boy getting ready for his first Sadie Hawkins dance. It was wracking to feel like that again.

But maybe he was remembering just how much he'd hurt you by staying so close and never choosing.

You crossed the room slowly. Talked to Donna, and let Roy grab you a drink.

“I didn’t think you’d come.”

Dick's balcony's always been cold. Maybe he'd overstepped by draping his jacket over your pretty shoulders.

(But neither of you cared, and the lining was so nice!)

“I didn’t think you’d ask.” Your voice doesn't come out quiet, and you're surprised by its steadiness.

Dick looked down at his shoes. “I didn’t know if I deserved to.”

Your smile was glossy, close lipped. “You don’t get to disappear and then expect me to ask you to show up. It's mean.”

“I know.” A beat. “Uh, when I was halfway, I could pretend I wasn’t scared.”

“Were you?”

“Terrified.” He laughed, shaking his head. “I know that seems like such a shitty cop out. The whole, commitment phobe thing. But I still wanted you to come tonight.” Dick stopped. Cracked his knuckles. “I’ve missed you.”

“I don't believe in love that waits.”

Dick's brows are knit closely. “I know.”

“I'm not gonna be waiting.”

“I don’t want you to. I'll meet you where you are. Sorry I didn’t sooner.”

His breath clouds in the air. His voice cracks as he adds, “I get why you stopped asking.”

“Didn’t want to keep asking for something that wasn't fully ours.”

“That’s on me.”

“You were scared?”

“Still kinda am.”

He shifts beside you, steps closer. Adjusts his jacket, so the collar doesn't look rumpled. Dick's fingers brush the side of your throat.

Inside, he doesn't reach for your hand. Just walks close. As close as you'll let him. Close enough that it’s obvious.

You walk back to your car. Your phone lights up.

wonderboy thanks for coming beautiful you didn’t have to

you don’t thank me happy birthday 💙

ᯓ★ JASON TODD.

JASON IS ALWAYS AROUND. Your brother's second shadow. Not because they're attached at the hip. Roy is one of the few people that lets him stand beside him without flinching.

Initially, he barely acknowledges you.

He'll grunt a greeting when you grab a glass of juice, nods from across the kitchen. He always leaves his bike helmet on the counter tile like it's a centerpiece. It smells like gunpowder and iron, and you definitely think it says way more than he ever does with his mouth. Gun oil. Boots on the carpet. Pride and Prejudice folded in his back pocket.

You were studying journalism at university. Doing some stories. Freelance. An open notebook tucked under your arm. You asked questions too fast sometimes--half Harper nature--about everything, about nothing.

And Jason didn’t like it. Said so.

“Why do you talk to people like you’re digging for something?”

“Cause people lie.”

He didn’t say anything after that.

It was Roy’s fault! He left his phone out on the sofa. You didn’t care to look, but the cracked screen had some picture of you and Roy. Jason sent it.

jaybird when was this is she dating someone?

roy tf do you care lmao don’t be fucking weird

jaybird just asking.

roy that’s my sister.

jaybird shut up.

You noticed him staring more after that.

One time at breakfast, you spilled coffee on the edge of your sweater sleeve, cursing under your breath. You didn’t think he was even awake. Jason was slumped at the table over a bowl of cereal. His hoodie pulled up like he hadn’t slept at all. He passed you a paper towel before you even asked. Didn’t even look at you.

Later, your old press badge was pressed against the counter. It was lost for weeks. Bent but clean.

“You found this?” you turned to Roy, eyes glittering.

Roy rubbed his mouth. “Huh?”

Jason starts asking you things. Small things.

“Where’d that article of yours go? The vigilante case?”

“Sleep last night?”

He asked them like it didn't matter, like he didn't already know the answers. His fingers drummed while waiting for your replies, and he seems to drink in every single thing you say.

An interview that went south. A CEO with yellowed teeth called you doll. You bit your tongue till it stung.

Jason's in the garage, with a wrench.

“[Name], you okay?”

“I'm fine, Jay.”

“Don't lie.”

You set your leather bag on the hood of your car.

The wrench drops. “Wanna go hit something?”

You blinked. Slowly. "Sorry?”

“Gym. Pads. Gloves. I'll hold them for you.”

A smile stretches and he swears he feels like he's being lit from the inside. The way it's just for him. “Is that your version of like, a hug?”

“Take it or leave it.”

Roy didn’t pick up tonight. After a date that made your head ache, where the guy with a cheap haircut only spoke about himself, forgot his wallet, you stood outside alone. Cold.

Jason showed up instead.

His hoodie half-zipped, breath fogging in the air, from jogging, car parked across the street, his white streak a little matted. Green eyes scanned your face, and he grabbed the heels dangling from your fingers.

Your purse slipped off your shoulder, and Jason took it mid slide too.

He held both all the way home in his lap as he drove.

You let him walk you to your building, and the air had seemed to have hit you harder this time. Jason still had your bag and heels, and the space between you seemed to buzz.

The stairwell was bright, and the front light hummed over your head. Your throat was tight as you croaked out a "Thank you", softly and every word you wanted to say seemed to taunt you as you realize you rather liked his green eyes, and the golden rings inside them.

He seemed to notice your observation, and his eyes fell to the floor, the corners of his lips lifting so slightly. So, you let your hand fall between you, barely. So his could brush against it. Fingertips, then your pinky hooked his.

He turned his hand, observing the way they fit. Held it tighter, tighter than you expected.

ᯓ★ TIM DRAKE.

YOU'VE ALWAYS LIKED QUIET. Which is a good thing, because you have little else but that in a gas station working a graveyard shift. It's mostly peaceful. As peaceful Gotham can get. Little customers. No noise. Just you, and the fluorescents and the freezer that groans when it turns on.

Sometimes, you leave the counter to stand under the overhang light.

You see him for the first time at 3:24 AM.

The red and black suit. The insignia. A cowl that didn't cover his lips. Red Robin.

He doesn’t say anything. Just lands on the roof like he belongs there. Kinda freakish.

He was gone before you could look again.

The second time he shows up, he taps on the bulletproof glass with a gloved knuckle and gestures to the vending machine near the left of the entrance.

"It ate my dollar," he says.

You blink. "For real?"

"Swear on the mask."

Pretty big swear. So, you open the door. He's taller than you thought he would be. And younger. Same age, or around from what you can make of him.

You slide an energy drink and a bag of chips across the counter. "Next time you save the city bird boy, ask for some change."

He laughs. And you hate how much you like the way his lips curve.

He comes back after that. Not every single night. Although, that'd be fun. But it wasn't enough for you to expect him.

He never buys anything from you. He leans against the counter and asks how your shift was, and you hand him a bottled water and piece of bubblegum. He asks about the books you read behind the register.

"Jane Eyre?" he'd asked with a raised brow. "Sort of a dramatic choice for a Tuesday."

"Says the guy in a bird costume."

He laughed again. Now you hated how familiar it sounded.

But you didn't think much of it. Not until the week Tim stops coming to class.

He was in your study group. Quiet. He had the most gorgeous smile you think you'd seen. All toothy and boyish, despite the dark circles shadowing underneath his eyes.

You liked him more than you meant to. Still do. You swore not to, because there was something about him that seemed like if you reached out, he'd disappear like smoke. And it was getting ridiculous. You'd worn a skirt to class and curled your hair and hoped he'd notice. Forming a crush on someone because he had asked you how your day was and always helped look for your pen underneath your seat during lecture. But he was always noticing things. Listening to you, and he said your name like it was a secret that you both shared.

When he misses study group, then class, then that dumb open mic night you invited him to, you tell yourself it's nothing.

But then Red Robin shows up that same night, again.

He's chipper. "Long night?"

You let the silence stretch, doodling on some scratch paper.

He tilts his head, rocking on his heels. "Have a bad shift?"

"No," you say slowly, "Just kinda missing someone."

The mask twitches. You don't notice.

He starts coming around regularly.

You talk. About stupid shit, important stuff. Your morals. His commentary on the mayor.

You mention how sometimes you wish had a different life. How you want to graduate university already.

He's quiet as he nods, locking eyes with you.

Then he says, “I think you’re doing way better than you think.”

That's not fair to you. Because that sounds like something Tim would tell you over text casually. It makes your stomach twist and you wonder if you're falling in love with a mask, a voice, because he reminds you of someone else.

And he doesn’t even know that.

Tim knows.

He talks to you at night with a different voice, he holds himself differently and pretends that he’s not the same guy who used to try to make jokes clumsily to make you laugh. He loves your laugh.

He watches you watch him and says nothing.

If he tells you, it’ll ruin the quiet connection you’ve built. The thing he keeps crawling back to when the city’s too heavy.

[starpeachjelly]

Kindred Spirits ₊˚⊹⋆

prologue part 3

part 1 / part 2

synopsis: Four years have passed since the chronorift catastrophe, since you've regained the memories of your past life, since you crossed paths with her. You two are close, and you think Caleb might not like that.

warnings: none.

word count: 1.9k

authors note: my biggest fear is mischaracterization, but i hope i did good for young caleb.

Every time she has a problem she comes to seek you out. It doesn't matter if it's a tricky problem on her homework, or a full blown fight with her friend. No matter the issue you're always the first person she comes to. You try your best to convince her to go to Caleb instead, knowing how much he appreciates it when she seeks him out for help. Sometimes she listens to you, most of the time she doesn't.

You know Caleb doesn't like this. You can tell based on the way he looks at you.

He's always polite in front of her. He smiles and talks with you casually when she's in the mix, treating you like a friend. But the moment she's no longer there something in his behaviour shifts. It's not noticeable to anyone else, but you can always tell the difference.

It's the way his eyes darken. You remember how fans used to point out the way his gaze could change so quickly. Puppy eyes that are able to turn into something so serious and dark in a matter of seconds. You used to think it was something that only started after he becomes cornel. Yet he's only fourteen and able to send shivers down your spine with how coldly he looks at you. Even when you don't look at him you can always feel it.

Music plays from your headphones as you breeze through your homework. You miss the music you used to listen to in your past life, but you've managed to find some songs in this world you enjoy too. It's a peaceful evening, but that moment of peace fades when you feel your heart tighten. The urge to cry overwhelms you, causing you to put down your pen and move away from the pages scattered across your desk. You'd think this was coming out of nowhere, but after four years you know better.

She's in a fight with Caleb.

You always get this feeling when she's arguing with him. No matter how big or small the issue is.

Right on cue your phone starts to blow up. Dozens of messages from her pop up on your screen telling you about how much of a "meanie" he is, how he never listens to her, and a bunch of other complaints. You sigh, put your phone in your pocket, and head over to Josephine's house to comfort her. Every time they argue you're always there to help her. You know that it's another thing you do that Caleb doesn't like. But with your shared connection you feel a sense of responsibility to be there for her no matter what.

Most of the time their fights are just misunderstandings or petty arguments. Things that usually resolve themselves after a couple hours of her ranting, and him buying her her favourite snacks. This time things are different.

Hours have passed. Deep purples and oranges have faded into navy blue. The sun has set fully, leaving the sky decorated with a full moon and countless stars. It's a shame such a lovely night is filled with such anger and sadness.

You've lost track of how long you've been sitting on her bed. Gently running your fingers through her hair with her curled up next to you while she rants about him. Yet despite all the ramblings she still hasn't told you what exactly it is he's done to upset her so much.

The tightness in your chest has yet to subside, an indicator that she's still as troubled as she was when this all started. You care for her, you really do. You can feel her pain like it's your own. But you need this to be resolved soon because you don't know how much more patience you have left in you. Listening to teenage drama when you're no longer a teenager yourself is like a special kind of torture.

So, in a desperate attempt to put an end to this you decide to talk to Caleb yourself, even though you know you're probably the last person he wants to see right now.

Three knocks on his bedroom door. Shuffling can immediately be heard from the other side. He peeks his out from the crack, looking like a kicked puppy. Big shiny purple eyes, brows knit together, and a small pout on his chapped lips. You can feel your heart twist at the sight. He's so cute and tiny, it's hard to believe what he'll turn into in a few years.

"What happened?" you ask.

He looks away. A red blush starts to dust across the tips of his ears. Immediately you understand that whatever they're fighting about has something to do with you.

It most likely had something to do with what happened earlier today; when she had asked you to win her some plushies while you were all at the arcade. He had tried to get her attention by winning some himself, but as appreciative as she was she clearly had a preference for the ones you had won. You'd gifted him one too in hopes of cheering him up, but you're not sure if it helped or made things worse.

"I was just messin' with her."

The look on your face must be filled with skepticism because the moment he looks at you he sighs, rubs his neck, and goes back to avoiding your gaze.

"I may have taken it a step too far–"

He staggers back as you take a step forward to look into his room. As expected, right on his bed, is one of the plushies you had won her. (And to your surprise so it the one you had gifted him.) The red on his ears immediately spreads to his cheeks.

You understand his jealousy, his protectiveness towards her. After everything they've gone through, to have someone else, someone he thinks is oblivious to what they've gone through, show up into their lives and start taking over the role he had played for years. Who wouldn't be upset with that?

If you didn't have this shared connection with her you would leave this situation for them to resolve on their own. But you can't stand this ache in your heart anymore.

"I'm sorry." You say, not just for unintentionally stealing her attention, but for becoming part of their story. For changing it no matter your attempts not to.

His eyes widen, clearly caught off guard by your apology. He stares at you, not saying a single word. So you continue. "I'll never be able to replace you, not that i want to. But even though i'm part of her life, you're still very important to her."

He's still quiet. Still staring at you with that surprised expression. Hopefully your words have finally helped him understand you're not trying to take his place, and that you'd never be able to. Whatever unexplainable bond you have with her doesn't change what they've gone through, even if she doesn't remember.

"But, you should give her the plushie back." You offer him a small smile before leaving, not wanting to push your luck.

The next morning a sudden thunk against your bedroom window startles you from whatever it is you're looking at on your phone. Another thunk comes two seconds later. You get up off your bed to see what's happening. Caleb stares up at you from your back yard.

Glass panes groan softly as you open them, peaking your head out the window.

"Can I come up?" he asks.

His words catch you off guard.

"Please," he adds when you don't answer.

It's barely 8 am on a sunday. You're not even dressed, still wearing your comfiest pajamas. "Caleb–"

"I'm comin' up."

Your eyes widen as you watch him start to climb the downspout that runs next to your bedroom window.

"Caleb!" You whisper shout, not wanting to alarm your parents, but if he hears you he doesn't seem to care.

Floor boards creak as he steps into your room, swinging himself in from the ledge of the window. He stands in front of you, fully dressed in non sleepwear. You're not sure what to do or say, too caught off guard by what you just witnessed.

"I wanted to say sorry."

His words are even more of a surprise than him climbing through your window. It must be written on your face, because he immediately explains his unexpected apology.

"For how i've been treatin' you."

"It's fine–"

He cuts you off. "It's not."

An awkward silence hangs between the two of you. A strong gust of wind shakes the trees outside, wafting in the scent of asiatic apples into your room. He's not saying anything, but you can see a vulnerability in his eyes that you've never seen before. Not even when he looks at her.

"It's okay. I know." you say.

You have a feeling that he wants to explain why he's so protective of her. But you already know everything.

His expression shifts into something you can't quite place your finger on. The vulnerability in his eyes is still present, but there's something else there. Something akin to realization.

He clears his throat and pulls something out of his pocket. In hand is a tiny charm with three apples on it. One red, one yellow, one green. All stacked up one atop the other. "It doesn't make up for how i've been actin' like a big jerk all these years. But I thought it could be like a peace offering or somethin'."

You don't pick up the charm, examining the polymer clay apples in his palm before looking back up at him. His eyes are no longer on you, instead you find them glued to his feet. He looks nervous, and a little bit embarrassed. It's odd seeing him like this, usually he always appears so confident.

You could accept the peace offering, put an end to his nervousness. But you find yourself wanting to mess with him first. After all, he deserves it for all those unnecessary chilling glares. You tap your index finger against your chin and hum in faux contemplation. It's hard not to laugh as he immediately starts to shift awkwardly.

"I'll accept this peace offering, if you promise to make me some of your famous braised chicken wings."

His head snaps up to look at you. His eyes are wide, as if stunned you're actually forgiving him despite his jealousy and past behaviour. But you do, because you understand. You know.

"Yeah. I promise." The way his gaze softens, and the smile on his face warms your heart.

After that night things between you change. When it's just the two of you he no longer ignores you. Awkward silences have changed into jokes and laughter, lighthearted banter. Icy stares melt into something more gentle. Now he looks at you the same way he looks at her, like someone he wants to protect. It's a heartwarming change. One you unfortunately don't get to experience for long.

Your mother gets a promotion that requires your family to move to the newly built city of sky haven. You try to tell yourself that this is a good thing. Living in skyhaven means you won't be nearby, you won't be able to affect the story anymore. Despite your logical reasoning, a part of you doesn't want to leave. You don't want to leave her. And with you and Caleb finally becoming friends, you don't want to leave him either. But you know this is for the best.

Things will finally return to normal.

tag list: @moonchildjae00 @elegantdeerlady @hon3yydew @chocochip-gaia @solmanel1 @wooasecret @peachystea @seung185 @mcdepressed290 @whimsiecat @shadowypeachsweets @animegamerfox @gabywho @ryuukuran-blog @insidious-innocence @hiqhkey @chiikasevennn @ehneh @mangooes @sleepydang @fictionalpeoplemmmhmm @dynastyofyearning

a/n: thank you all so much for your support and comments <3 they mean the world to me 🥺💕

[karusthings]

.⋆˚࿔ s t a r i n g - t. fushiguro ࿐˚⋆.

ꎫ──[ husband au ; one shot ]

character dynamicꎫ── husband!toji x f!reader

summaryꎫ── you weren't expecting him to react like that to the news.

content warningsꎫ── fluff, he's your husband, that's probably not how he'd react to it but fiction is fiction right, let me dream, pregnancy.

wordsꎫ── 1.5k

¡! ❞ masterlist jjk.

Toji is sprawled across the bed, taking up most of the space. You're laying next to him, with your head on his bare arm, eyes tracing the sharp lines of his beautiful face.

It's late —really late—, somewhere around three in the morning, but no matter how hard you try, sleep won't come to you.

Then, in the quiet night, your husband's voice cuts through the air: low, husky, sleepy. "Ya horny or what?"

You smile, caught off guard that he's even conscious after the heavy snore he let out just minutes ago. "No."

"Then why won't you stop staring at me?"

Before your deep silence invades the room, his throat reveals a deep but quiet laugh, leaving the trail of a little smirk on his lips.

"How'd you know...?"

"Sixth sense, ma'am. Remember? deadly hitman and all of that." He turns his face slowly towards you, eyes half closed but still burning your skin like fire itself. "So, what's on your mind? Why can't you have some rest like the rest of human beings in this house?"

"I've been... thinking." you murmur, voice low.

"Your biggest problem."

"Come on," you can't help but laugh softly, shifting into your back. "Something happened".

"You're pregnant."

"What?" You blink. It can't be.

"Just tried to be a smartass. But go on, yap about what's on your messy head, I hear ya." he yawns, while you're dead silent. Then, he adds, "Don't mind me if I start snoring. I'm just readjusting my lungs."

You don't say a single word, and for the first minute he assumes you just drifted off. That's until he glances over and sees you still, staring at the ceiling.

"Hey, you dead?"

He moves closer to your body, wrapping his big arm around you. His hand finds your stomach, and his fingertips start touching playfully the edge of your summer top. You cover them with yours, guiding him slowly towards your lower belly. Then, you lay your eyes on him again.

"Oh shit," he seems to get it, even though you think that he's asleep enough to not catch a single fly. "I am a smartass."

You nod softly, looking into his blue eyes —now much wider than before—.

"Holy fuck, really?" 

He's almost fully awake now. The way he looks at you with surprise, love and a bit of possessiveness is making you close your legs. "No shit".

You nod again, and he sits up in bed. He's slowly running a hand through his messy hair, those dark eyes —lost on the wall in front— don't fully tell you if he liked the new, or hated it. But when he fully processes, he looks at you with a crooked smile, and something inside your heart melts when you see it. You return the gesture over his excitement, and you suddenly don't know why you were worried to tell him in the first place.

He leans down without warning and pulls you to him with his big, rough hands, mouth crashing with yours in a kiss that's messy, hungry, and almost desperate. His hands start tracing a circuit on your skin, from your back to your waist, and at the end one of these rests on your hip while the other finishes tangled in your hair, holding you in place as he devours your lips feverishly.

"Fuck, I love you... so fucking much." He doesn't usually talk between kisses —because, according to him, you shouldn't talk with your mouth full—, but now he needs to tell you.

"I'm gonna... be a dad again... fuck" and he's groaning against your mouth.

"I didn't think... you'd like it that much".

"You kiddin'?"

His elbow digs into the mattress as he lowers his weight over you, body half-naked just millimeters from yours. His hand doesn't stop grabbing your hip, trailing heat as it moves. 

He pauses only to breathe, pressing your foreheads together. His voice gets lower, rough against your skin. "Megumi's gonna have a little sister."

"Or a brother." You murmur, intertwining the fibers of his hair between your fingers.

"Yeah, no. Not sharing you with another little guy. One's enough." His lips start tracing a way through your collarbone, carefully going down towards your belly.

You laugh at his words, looking at him while he starts kissing your skin once again.

"Why were you strugglin' so badly to tell me?"

"I don't know. We don't have much money, I'm not sure we can af-..." He silences you with a hand over your mouth, gaze burning from where he rests near your hip.

"I’ll take more jobs. I want that kid. The only problem would be if you don’t. Do ya?"

You nod, showing a smile under his hand. He smiles back at you, nodding, whispering before kissing your belly again. "Good."

"How long have you known?" he asks after a few quiet minutes..

"About two days," you reply, with your eyes closed, and a hand over his soft hair. He was lying on your abdomen, making small circles on your skin with one of his fingers. "I was waiting for the right time."

He snorts softly, sending a chill through your body. "You mean any time when I wasn’t snoring like a fuckin' bear?"

You chuckle against his skin. "Basically."

He climbs your body again, tilts your chin up with two fingers and kisses you again, slower this time.

"Not gonna lie," he murmurs against your mouth, "the idea of another baby scared the shit outta me for a second."

"I know."

"But then I looked at you. And I thought, fuck it. And now 'm... 'm fuckin' excited." A soft laugh echoes in his throat as he confesses to you.

You close your eyes as he kisses your forehead, then your cheek, then down to your jaw again. “And Megs…”

After a few moments, he replies, murmuring "Let me be the one to tell him."

"You sure?"

He nods, more serious now. "Yeah. I want to see his face."

He’s restful for a while after that, but his fingers never stop moving over your skin, tracing idle shapes: sometimes pausing on your hip, sometimes brushing your thigh or cupping your breast. All this until he heard your peaceful breathing.

“At last you can sleep peacefully.”

. . .

The scent of coffee drifts through the apartment, and you feel yourself more awake as soon as you smell it. The sun hits your face —quite annoyingly— and you cover it with your hand, just to see him.

Toji stands shirtless by the glass-ceramic cooker, flipping something in a pan. His grey sweatpants hang low on his hips, and his hair’s still messy from sleep. Although you wouldn't mind mussing it up again.

You're now at the table, grabbing the mug he prepared for you. Not a chance you’re taking your eyes off his muscular back.

“Still starin’, huh?” he tilts his head while he smirks. “So you are horny?”

You roll your eyes while taking a sip of your coffee. “You’re the one cooking shirtless, I wouldn’t blame me.”

“Yeah, well, gotta feed the whole damn family now.” He makes you feel loved and claimed. Flips the eggs and plates the food quickly, bringing it over to you. “You think he’s awake?”

He takes food off your plate, and you were about to complain until you realize he had actually made enough for both of you. Toji looks up, mouth full, waiting for you to answer.

“No idea.” But while you’re speaking, Megumi walks into the kitchen, hair a mess, shirt half tucked, rubbing one eye with the back of his hand. He freezes when he sees both of you looking at him.

“...What?”

“Sit.” He gets up, walking towards the fridge to take out the milk. Then he jerks his chin towards the meal. “Eat. You want some chocolate milk?”

“Yeah, sure.” He starts eating some of the eggs his father made. He had no michelin star, but they were edible.

“So, kid, got somethin’ to tell ya.”

Megumi looked at him mid-bite, raising an eyebrow like he already knew something was off.

Toji brought in his chocolate milk, sliding it across the table to him. He leans forward, resting his arms on the table. “You’re gonna be a big brother.”

Megumi freezes, and there’s a long quiet pause. Then, flatly: “Seriously? Like a real baby?”

“No, a metaphorical baby. It cries in Shakespeare quotes and needs diaper changes every time Mercury is in retrograde.”

You both look at him, whispering a little “Toji?” so quietly you almost only hear it yourself.

“Sorry, yeah, a real baby.”

Megumi just looks at him, swallows, blinks twice, and grabs his milk. “Huh. Okay.”

You stare, sincerely surprised “Okay?”

“Yeah. ‘m good with it.” Toji barks a laugh at his response —and your shocked face—. “Is it gonna be loud?”

“It’s… a baby. So yeah, probably.”

“I’ll have to buy some earplugs. Thanks for the breakfast.”

And as easy as that, he gets up and walks away. As he disappears back down the hall, your husband looks at you, grinning across the table “See? That went great.”

You stare at him. “Did it?”

And he just leans back, coffee in hand, looking far too proud of himself. “Hell yeah, it did. So, any names?”

¡! ❞ masterlist jjk.

¡! ❞ little note; Well not exactly how I was expecting this to turn out and it's kinda short, but I'm not complaining either. I've been kinda obsessed with toji nowadays SOOO there u go <3.

ꎫ¨.｡ © I have full credit on every artwork in my profile, all rights reserved. Please, do not repost, edit or use any of it.

ꎫ¨.｡ © 2025 all rights reserved, karusthings on Tumblr. Please, do not repost, edit, use or translate any of my projects.

[day-azevir]

Woag it's slab system time!!

Some basic info; we all know Etho (he/him) whose been around the longest, Logo (it/its) who joined during season 3 a bit after Etho did, and Patho (they/them) who joined during season 6 while still trapped in the jungle

People who know about the slab system: Xisuma, Bdubs, Beef, Doc, Impulse

People who have a hunch: Cub, Ren, Gem, Tango, Hypno

People who don't know: Those not listed. Etho. Patho.

Xisuma found out during a code check after Etho was retrieved from the jungle. Bdubs, Beef, and Doc all gradually figured it out over time (mostly encountering Patho), but chose not to bring it up as Etho seems to get uncomfortable about it. Impulse realized somewhere between season 3 and 4 when Etho wouldn’t remember their interactions half the time (he had been meeting with Logo). He was the first to learn about the system, but because he hadn’t known Etho that long, he wasn’t sure if it would be rude to bring it up and was under the impression that the admins already knew.

Similar to Impulse, Hypno often encounters Logo, but hasn't put everything together himself because “Humans are just so goddam weird.” He knows something’s there, just not quite what (or I should say who). Cub found Etho ‘sleepwalking’ (ie Logo taking a midnight stroll) and took it back to base, to which Logo commented on his situation with the skulk in a totally non-threatening manner before giving the front back to Etho. Etho, who had no recollection of how he got into Cubs base, was unable to give any explanation and left. Cub was not able to sleep for several nights after. Gem and Tango both met Patho when they woke up and ‘tried to escape the jungle’ and nearly ran off the server. The two ended up having to fight them for a bit, but eventually Etho started to wake up and Patho was forced to back off. Tango has been around long enough to believe that there might be a system, but doesn't want to assume. Gem took notice of the different fighting techniques between Etho and Patho, so she made a mental note to look into it later.

Etho has no idea. He usually doesn’t remember when the others front, and when he does just shrugs and brushes it off. ‘Well that was weird and out of character… Time to make tnt :)’ Genuinely oblivious. Things are very similar with Patho in that regard. They don’t front often and so things are often fuzzy and memories feel more like dreams and vice versa - they honestly still think they're in the jungle most of the time and nothing is real. Logo, on the other hand, is very aware of the others. It doesn’t talk much and is a big fan of Minding Its Own Business, but does enjoy hanging out with the voidlings.

But while 2/3 don't know about the others, they still have very fun effects on each other;

As always, open for asks about slab system!

[obscuremantisman]

GREAT!! so I was wondering if you could do the John Doe Rochas313 skin x reader....heh. because there is no rochas313 x reader and i love my boy💔💔 take ur time!!

SKIN!Rochas313 x Reader

CW: This shit all ooc because i created a whole ass lore, bro 💔💔. I spent most of my time drawing him instead of writing this ngl, also i have him as 21+ years old. YES, THIS FOLLOWS THE SAME READER IN THE OTHER FORSAKEN POSTS.

update: uhhh, hello! (((・・;) i've been occupied... with being a lazy ass, that's all.

Rochas thought things couldn't get worse. His world was corrupted. He was alone in it with this... this thing.

It all happened so quickly... He didn't know how to react. His body felt... numb? Not really, but it was reaching that point. He was scared... or at least he used to be? Everything feels so fuzzy, so underwhelming. Rochas313 couldn't bring himself to care...

He remembered a few things, his friends, or where they? He didn't know. Their faces are all... blurry. All he knows is that they left him behind once things got riskier, once he was like this... or did they? Weird, he couldn't remember.

Hmm...? When did he reach this place? He doesn't remember leaving his map. There is so much yeast, so much space to grow.

Who are they?

These people... They stared at him with wide eyes. The fear, the disgust, and pity in their eyes. It all had him.. flustered.

Please don't look at him... He knows he doesn't look good, knows he's a danger, knows he's nothing more than a host to a disgusting parasite, so stop looking, stop looking, stop looking, stop it, stop it now!

After his very first round, things got messy. Missing walls, misplaced decorations, glitched items, and roots everywhere. Yeah, you can bet the Specter didn't like that. Where's Rochas313 now? In the void, a place he can't mess with nobody.

The void is a map specifically designed for Rochas313. It seemingly has nothing in it except for a powerful, frequently updated anti-virus and a giant screen showing all that happens around the forsaken realm to keep him distracted from his own thoughts. The rounds, killer's lobby, and survivor's lobby are constantly watched by him. His favorite? survivor's lobby. They always put up a little show every round break, and they.. they remind him of someone.

Rochas is a biological cage. He successfully keeps the virus under check once left calm, but once aggravated enough... The parasite takes full advantage of his instability, which is why he's given access to watching others in the first place, but it's not like it could get out for long enough to cause any real damage. The specter learned its lesson once Rochas313 almost got a bite out of one of the survivors...

The Specter isn't interested in getting rid of his existence because if he dies, the parasite will find a way to remain, and it's constantly hungry for obvious reasons. The forsaken realm is full of nutrients, and that little virus is very much interested and sneaky, so yeahhhhhhh Rochas313 has to stay.

You met him by pure coincidence.

He had been particularly bored that day and, by accident, saw a glimpse of one of the survivors getting brutally cut in half. Yeah that messed him up and fucked his day up, enough to give the virus control for a few seconds and teleport him inside said round.

He just popped up behind Taph, said guy too distracted with trying to take back an explosive you were holding far up in the air just for fun.

It was definitely a surprise to the botb of you when the whole map shook and started glitching. A few of the walls even fell, and you swear some trees disappeared.

But alas, you, a curious freak, threw the explosive in your hands right away to another direction and approached Rochas313 to have a better look while Taph didn't waste another second to run off desperately once he peeked behind himself.

You only ever saw a few pictures and videos of him back in the days when you were just a normal human having an average life, and the fact he was here while there was already another killer for the round? You were rightfully curious. You didn't even realize that he was able to see you until he attempted to slash your body, wood claws phasing through your body, earning a confused incoherent grumble.

That had you even more surprised. A killer that was able to see you? You had to torment this guy affectionately.

As if analyzing you, his soulless eye stared onto yours while you poked him around, his body growing bigger as the virus was actively consumed assets until the sky turned red and suddenly... the both of you disappeared. The specter had once again sent him back to his prison.

Rochas313 doesn't usually speak. There's roots growing in his throat.

After meeting you, though.. he put an effort in cutting off these little branches so he could communicate better. He doesn't know sign language, and making gurgling noises was very much embarrassing. It hurts, but the only way to cut the roots off is to reach them with his hands, so he always makes sure to do it properly so his voice can stay for a week. It rarely doesn't leaves him bleeding but you don't need to know that.

He loves your company! If it was up to him, he would've been following you around just to talk.

Being around someone that doesn't stare at him with fear and that is nice to him even with the way he looks has definitely skyrocketed his mood and overall mental health.

Unfortunately, he barely gets to meet with you , nor see you around. The giant screen in his void can't catch your form properly, like a ghost caught on camera. That is why you proposed a simple way to have contact... a hunt.

Every new round, you, along with a few useless objects in the round, build simple things around. A 'hello' made from rocks, a chair with the drawing of a cat made out of grass on top of it, some plates piled up with a plant on top. Simple things to keep him happy, to show you cared.

One time you sticked your hand inside his empty eye socket. If you weren't able to go through solid things, you're sure your hand would've been stuck and possibly eaten.

Surprisingly, but not so much, Rochas couldn't feel a thing! That's why you made it a little hobby to stick flowers in it when you had the chance, even if they all eventually disappeared. That dumbass virus eats it every damn time. No romantic action that involves such things as gifts is allowed in its sight or it'll fucking find a way of chugging it down.

But how do you guys even meet? And how do you even leave the void??

Rochas hasn't been completely honest about the ways he gets out of the void. Sure, the virus takes over if he's unstable, that you knew, but what if... what if he's been letting, more than once, the virus take control just to get the chance of meeting you, hmmmm? Would you be nad at him? Eh, definitely not, but he's quite embarrassed to tell you he does that. He doesn't want to seem clingy.

And as to how you get out of the void... You discovered how to do so by accident. You were just chatting with Rochas after what seemed like maybe a few days after you both got stuck together in his void, and while you were pacing around, you touched the screen which Rochas uses to watch things around and sluuuurrp. Guess who got sucked out of the void.

Overall, Rochas is just a chill, kindhearted guy who just happens to be the host of a highly powerful virus. He cherishes every moment together with you and appreciates your gifts and attention with all his heart, even if sometimes all the affection overwhelms him.

Give him a little kiss on the cheek and his flesh side with be as red as C00lk1d's skin, while the wooden side will be sprouting flowers. He melts faster than butter on the pan.

The virus actually feeds off a great chunk of his emotions, so it was a surprise when he was all timid and a stuttering mess. Apparently his little parasite preferred negative emotions, which is why Rochas appears numb and tired most of the time.

But with that aside.. now you know a way to get a big reaction out of him.

there it is, sorry i took so long,,,,

[wxsteriawishes]

the lads men finding you again in this life. . . but you're already with someone else (angst version) what who said that

post-writing clarity: written while listening to the Dear Hongrang OST, very much set the mood. i recommend! most songs are instrumental.

go back to masterlist

content: mentions of death, mentions of toxic behavior/abuse, use of indecent language/swearing, use of pet names (pips)

caleb

bonus points: imagine zayne is "the other guy" in caleb's story

he'd immediately try sabotaging the two of you. over and over again, using his status and evol to his benefit and that asshole's detriment. he'd play the perfect older brother, you'd come crying to him each time something went wrong. each time an issue popped up. caleb wouldn't let him enter the house, wouldn't let him explain or apologize. he'd let the miscommunications fester. when you find out how much caleb had been meddling, you're furious, you're outraged -- you feel betrayed. he had already lied about his death, now this?initially, he's firm and stubborn. he won't let go of you. "can't you see how much better i could treat you?" maybe if you were single, he'd let you be. but you acted as if you were in love with that other guy, like you might marry him. spend your whole life with him? he can't have that, now, can he? no, that wouldn't do. he locks you up, hides you away from the rest of the world. you didn't even get to say goodbye, you had screamed at him once. he didn't care. you missed your lover, you never quite had the courage to confess. he could tell anyway. he didn't relent. "i know you, pips! he'll never know you like i do." you don't know for sure what happened to your partner ex. you get hints. caleb tells you he took care of him. you didn't have to guess at what that meant. the important part was that you'd never be able to see him again. it broke you apart. you stopped speaking, ate less, never laughed. your smiles were only half-hearted. you had trouble sleeping. it takes a while, but he eventually takes a step back. he sees you fading away, missing the man you used to be with, the one you really loved. you're just a shell of the bright, loving, confident woman you used to be. you don't even look at him anymore. he'd broken your trust. he was too intense, too possessive, too much. he lets you go. you don't look back. instead of your partner's loving arms, you come home to a tombstone and a death certificate. even though you eventually forgive caleb, you can't find it within yourself to love him back the way he's always loved you. he's killed (backstabbed) by one of his colleagues a few years later, eternally distracted by thoughts of you. people think he died without a lover. but he loved you to his grave, even when you didn't love him back. even when you had another in your own heart.

rafayel

bonus points: imagine sylus is "the other guy" in rafayel's story

he ignores you. initially, he wants to shout at you. he wants to grab you by the shoulders and shake until you remember him again, remember what you did to him, what the two of you had. he sees your eyes scanning the crowd and missing him. you didn't recognize him, you weren't even looking for him. he watches your lover lean down and plant a kiss on your lips, startling you. rafayel watches you blush and turns to leave. fine. if you were happy without him, who was he to object? the second time you meet, it's at one of rafayel's art exhibitions. he's mingling with the other guests. he's charming, captivating, unforgettable, everything a world-renowned artist like him should be. he's startled when you suddenly appear behind him. you introduce yourself and he turns around with his usual flirtatious gaze. he meets your sparkling eyes and, for a moment, he can't speak. why were you here? maybe you had finally remembered something-- but you only ask him for a favor. he pretends to be skeptical, when he was truly curious. he thought you might ask about lemuria. or at the very least, just be a fan of his work, wanting to meet him. but when he hears your favor. . . he laughs. hard. it sounds bitter, even to him. oh, you were audacious. who did you think you were? he wanted to say no, to just walk away, so badly. he was one of the best, for god's sake. he could afford to be an asshole this far in his career. but that would be cruel and unfair to you. you did not remember him, for whatever reason, and he couldn't expect anything from you. and, perhaps, he also just couldn't refuse you, no matter how hard he tried. like he was under your spell. thomas was right behind you. please say yes, his eyes seemed to be screaming at rafayel. so he does. only a few months later, he's dressed in soft pastels, blending in with the venue. he's sitting in the very front, a little off to the side, brush in hand. he paints. the life, the weather, the people. part of him feels like he's wasting his pigment on this. he's finally done when he hears you, "i do," voice full of emotion. rafayel watches the ring get pushed on your finger. he looks away. packs up his stuff, waits at the back, leaves before the afterparties. drowns himself in his work. years pass and people notice something had changed in his work. like something was missing. his fame and wealth skyrocketed. he had everything he could want. and most of all, he was happy. he didn't need you.

sylus

bonus points: imagine xavier is "the other guy" in sylus' story

he stalks you. he'd never call it that though. he was simply keeping an eye on you, to make sure you were safe. he has cameras set near your apartment building. when you go out, he usually sends luke and kieran, not willing to trust any of his mindless lackeys to ensure your safety. he has mephisto on the job when you're on a mission and you're trying to lay low. that's how he finds out you're with someone, another hunter. someone he had seen you spending time with at home and at work. instead of backing away, he keeps an even closer eye on you. what exactly had you two done? how far had you let him go? he kept catching his evol out of control, ready to strangle the man who dared touch you. he wouldn't believe you were in love with another. not when his soul was tied to yours. when you go on a sort of solo mission to find the leader of Onychinus, he sees his chance. he tries to get you to remember, he tries to resonate with you, he tries near everything he can think of. nothing works. no, he's only made things worse. you leave to go back to linkon city and he felt himself going insane. how had you forgotten everything? when it was you that tied your fate to his and cursed him. you, who doomed him to only be yours, when you couldn't even remember who he was to you now. on his better days, he has hope. he trusts that you'll make your way back to him. but on his worse days, he pays you a visit. he appears in your vicinity, scares the living hell out of you, and he wants to demand answers. but you hated him. you could only see him as the murderer of your foster grandmother and brother. he disgusted you, how could you love him with that fear, that betrayal in your eyes? one time, he appeared in your room while you were in his arms, the two of you in your bed. he went crazy. he lunged, aiming to kill. he almost did, but he caught sight of your eyes again. horror. pleading. tears. you call him a monster. his gaze dropped to his hands, strangling an innocent throat, black and crimson tendrils of smoke clouding his vision. you were in the corner of the room, looking like you wanted to disappear. sylus' grip loosened. he wanted to disappear. he stands up. takes a step back. he vanishes from the room. you never see him again.

xavier

bonus points: rafayel is "the other guy" in xavier's story

he'd introduce himself. he'd make his presence known each time he walked past your desk at work, past your door at home. he'd bring you home-baked muffins, to welcome you to the neighborhood. you're shocked by the acidic taste in the dough, but his aloof nature is charming. he leaves quite the impression on you. you become friends -- going on missions together, hanging out at his place on the weekends sometimes, having a drink together after a particularly intense fight. he's happy. he's friendly, he's sweet, he's respectful. he's such a gentleman, and honestly, a little bit of a flirt. he knows you don't remember anything. but he doesn't mind. it was more than perfect like this. he didn't have enough time to be nitpicking over the finer details. then you decide you want him to meet your fiancé. he had recently come back from a five-month-long world tour, you were saying, and you just had to introduce him to xavier. of course. xavier never did ask if you were single. he thought his feelings were obvious. he thought you two were on the same page. he forgot you didn't remember the things he did. you didn't catch the little inside jokes he made in reference to your past. and now, he was about to come face-to-face with your lover. fine, he'll be the judge of it. and when they met in person, xavier was livid. it would've been easier if he were horrible. but he wasn't. your fiancé was the whole package: deathly handsome, world-famous, wealthier than one could imagine, and most of all, he had left quite the impression on you too. only he had gotten to you first. xavier didn't ever smile at him, never spoke directly to him, always seething beneath the surface. the worst part was he was so good to you. he was so kind to you. xavier couldn't ignore that, no matter how much he wanted to believe otherwise. you invited xavier to your wedding. he still tried to make you see him as the better choice. he could fight, he could protect you, he would never forsake you. but you couldn't turn your head from your husband, your heart couldn't stop loving the passionate, flirtatious, loving man you were already tied to. he could feel how distant you were getting already. he could feel the friendship hanging on by a thread. he had a choice: he could try and save it, savor what little interactions he had with you, or go off the grid again. he never got to make the choice. his body was so tired and he already had such little time. he should've noticed the signs, without your love and comfort, all alone again, the stress, the solitude, it was all getting to him. then, one night, you found yourself dressed in black, hand-in-hand with your husband. you were told it was painless, in the middle of the night. you were grateful. you never knew how deep his feelings went for you.

zayne

bonus points: imagine caleb is "the other guy" in zayne's story

he'd keep his distance. at first, he couldn't believe it. it was you. you were the girl in his dreams. the woman formed from fragments of his mind. it had been years since you two had last spoke. but that was before the nightmares started, when he began to think there was something wrong with him. but like a fairytale come to life, he saw you. your eyes, your smile, your everything -- you were divine. his drink was untouched as he stared out the window, into the town square. he needed to speak to you. he thought he was crazy, having nightmares of killing a wife he never even met. but there you stood, laughing as you were grabbed by the waist, kissed until you ran out of breath. his heart dropped. you looked so happy. all hopes of talking to you vanished. he wouldn't cross that line. he got up and left the café immediately. it wasn't his place, to try to speak of such an intimate matter to a taken woman. how could he ruin that for you? he wouldn't. but, maybe. . . he'd make sure to be assigned to you as your primary physician. he'd get to know you in a professional setting, in a respectful manner. just for his own sake. when you had problems with your boyfriend, he'd comfort you. give you advice, sometimes as a doctor, sometimes as a friend. he kept his eye on you to make sure you were never hurt. he couldn't help himself, he couldn't completely stay away. how could he? but he never pushed it. he never flirted with you. even when he might've felt like you were attracted to him too. you had been in your relationship for years, why would you risk that for him? he never explicitly expressed his feelings to you, never wanting you to feel pressured to return them. there were boundaries he wouldn't cross. you weren't his, for god's sake, no matter how much he'd wished otherwise. but he kept telling himself if things didn't work out between you and that guy, he'd try his own luck. two years later, he was attending your wedding. he watched you exchange your vows, eyes sparkling, skin glowing, like you were made of gems. he was so happy for you. he moved towns. kept having nightmares of your lifeless body, dying at his scarred hands.

[patchw0rks]

Ok, reread of scum villain vol. 2 has been accomplished. Here are my thoughts and just things I wanted to note down (disclaimer: make sure to read these knowing the important context that liushen is my favorite ship lol)

I can't get over the Shen-Mu-Liu trio. Those are SQQ's BOYS and watching them interact is very fun. I also love that Mu Qingfang is medicine-pilled in the way that Shen Qingqiu is monster-pilled. Little did we know LQG is actually the most normal of the three

Shen "im just here to cause problems" Qingqiu saying "I know to get my way all i have to do is bat my pretty eyelashes at YQY and he will fold like a house of cards"

SQQ basically telling LQG that he's so strong so he must row the boat, and LQG is just absolutely FUMING because of how attracted he is to SQQ

SQQ referring to LQG as gege ah my heart

More of SQQ causing problems by trying stick Yang Yixuan onto LQG, which I love because you KNOW that in his grief post-Hua Yue City LQG went "fucking WATCH me"

Ngl I've read enough fanfic to realize that people don't really capture LQG's full personality. The usually make him so shy and tsundere that he's barely able to get a word in (Lan Zhan gets similar treatment) but no, he's just as catty as the rest of them

I need to figure out the timeline of how long Shen Yuan had been reading PIDW, it's endlessly important to me

LQG and MQF being like "our beloved little shixiong, please don't fret your pretty little head, just sit there and relax"

There really is some excellent physical comedy in SVSSS, like when SQQ is confronted by LBH and just defenestrates himself. You know that one scene in Angel Beats? Yeah it's exactly that

Qi Qingqi's eyebrows have now been brought up for a second time and it screams gender envy to me. Why are you as a "cis man" admiring a women's eyebrows so thoughtfully? So much to where it's the first thing you bring up about her appearance?

"Why?! Why were two grown men neurotically discussing a pice of clothing while surrounded by staring eyes?" never change Shen Yuan

I'm actually such a simp for Liu Qingge, i'm literally highlighting every mention of him and every word he speaks. I did not appreciate the Liuber my first time reading. He's also so incredibly tsundere "huff puff i can't believe you can't even ride your sword...get on"

Ugh I actually cried while reading the big confrontation. This did not happen my first read, but man it just got me. Also the very subtle POV switch that happens so we don't get any insight into SQQ's thoughts as he prepares to self-detonate

Mushroom Shen Qingqiu!!!! My Beloved!!!!!!! Def one of my favorite parts of the whole series. I think there are so many ways to play around with this character (hence my AU) but also there's this degree of freedom about it where even his internal dialogue is much more loose and less concerned with acting the part

Oh my...he referenced the succubus adventure...

Im sorry how did I completely black out the scene of LQG and SQQ playing hot potato with his corpse?!!?! Remember what I said about physical comedy!!

"Even a few hours ago, he genuinely wouldn't have cared where others (especially those of the same sex) touched him. They could touch wherever they liked, please go ahead" -- Things only said by straight who are 100% comfortable in their sexuality. Yeah. Totally

There are still good moments of seeing SQQ's dissociating himself from the events of the series and just treating everything and everyone as if it weren't "real," and how these thought patterns shift. Once again I think this would be a very fun thing to play around with and explore more

LIU QINGGE!!!! STOP MAKING ME SAD!!!!!!!! HE YEARNS SO MUCH

[warrioreowynofrohan]

There have been some really good conversations between Brandon Sanderson and fans on Reddit about Wind and Truth, amd I haven’t seen much duscussion of them here so I though I’d post sone of the bits I found most interesting. One of the things I like best about Brandon is that he tends to engage thoughtfully with criticism (in contrast with his Reddit fans, who can be dismissive of it).

This part is about some of the complaints from fans about WAT feeling too “real-world” and not fantasy-like enough in its language (introduction of real-world swear worlds, the “therapist” joke, amd some of the other jokes).

One Reddit commentor writes:

Brandon has been having quips since the beginning of his time as an author though. I feel like people that compare everything to the MCU are the actual brain poisoned people, not the various authors that now get this insane critique lobbed at them (because it's not just Brandon dealing with it).

Brandon responds:

I wouldn't call people brain poisoned for this.

Warning: long dissection next.

I'd say that this type of humor (which is very much a Gen X style) was overplayed by the people in charge of Star Wars and the MCU, using the humor in bad ways, which has made the entire humor style feel less sincere than it once did.

When it worked, the goal was to humanize characters and make the world seem more real, more "every day life." That was the goal of, for example, Buffy itself--to take fantastic, out-of-this world situations reserved for action stars, and put normal people in those situations. The quips, then, didn't break the fourth wall, but helped make people seem real.

"Puny God" is a good example. It undercuts not the audience, but the arrogance of Loki, while also earning a laugh because we think, "Yeah, that's what would actually happen." It gives a pressure valve and makes things feel real.

But when Poe makes a your mom joke at the start of a Star Wars film, it does the opposite. We don't need the tension relief, and it doesn't feel like a character acting real--it feels like "insert undercut the moment joke A here." See the entire film Love and Thunder.

I think what's happening here, personally, is that readers want sincerity from their stories--there's this growing sense in cinema that we can't take anything seriously, because otherwise we'll be nerds, and only NERDS would like this unironically. So everything has to be ironic and making fun of itself. They long for, say, the sincerity of the LOTR films. (Which still had these moments, usually with Gimli and Legolas, but underplayed them.) Stories that say, "We're not ashamed of the drama, power, and beauty of a fantasy/sf story that takes itself seriously.” Andor and Dune are beloved for these very reasons. EDIT: I also should mention that Deadpool, somehow, manages to be both at once. You have the undercut moments, like when Deadpool trips and falls at the end of the extended fight against all the other deadpools. Yet it doesn't shy away from being sincere at the climax--shockingly sincere. So it kind of uses this humor in reverse; instead of the occasional jolt of humor, it uses a ton of humor, so it can have the occasional jolt of sincerity. Really an interesting storytelling style that absolutely should not work, and wouldn't, without the exact right people in charge. Again, Love and Thunder tried this, and I think largely failed.)

Anyway, I feel that audiences are associating this humor with insincerity more and more, so they're rightly sensitive to them.

(Note to u/kuroinferuno: they did complain about Therapist. I kept it, because at the end of the day, I get to keep a joke now and then that makes me smile, even if I know some won't laugh. Remember, in my books, I try to have a variety of different kinds of humor, because what some people cringe at, others laugh at--and vice versa. I loved that Kaladin, here at this moment of climax, was still baffled by Hoid. And, as I said, this is a genre of humor from my youth that is still powerful for me. From "Boring conversation anyway" to "He's adopted," lines like this really work for me if not overused. But I can see that the current environment of storytelling has made them stand out more, and feel more "hand of the author" than they once were, which in turn kicks people out. Which is something you really want to avoid as an author. At the end of the day, I'd have kept that one, but I'd probably have been a little more careful about other modern language uses so that I could keep the ones I really love, without kicking people out so often.)

I think it’s a solid analysis of when and where quippiness does and doesn’t work, and the problems with how it’s been used as a default for too long and as a substitute for sincerity.

Brandon’s post prior to this one was also very interesting to me, because it got into some of the things that I noticed in Wind and Truth – specifically, how the jumps between character POVs were much more frequent (very few chapters were sole-POV, in contrast to previous books) and seemingly unnecessary (we’d have, say, an Adolin-Kaladin chapter and the a Kaladin-Adolin one, both cutting to a different POV in the middle of what was going on, instead of one Adolin chapter followed by one Kaladin chapter.

Brandon comments on the reason for this:

The goal here was to give a sense of disquietude to WaT by breaking the formula in uncomfortable ways--leading to a sense of uncertainty while reading the book, a sense that something was off, that the average reader (which may not include the people of this subreddit) wouldn't pick up on directly except for a sense of something being "out of tune" as they read.

…The pacing is strange by intention. Instead of an opening action sequence as is common in Stormlight books, there's this disquieting sense of things breaking apart--Kaladin saying goodbye, Shallan and Adolin splitting, Dalinar and Navani being torn away from their kingdom. Instead of fast, slow, fast (as is the general pacing of a stormlight book) it is slow for a distressing amount of time, then jerky--jumping between viewpoints faster than Stormlight books generally do, with far more leaning on a variety of viewpoint characters than previous books have had.

As it goes, there's the uncomfortable sense that none of this is going to get fixed. That it's going to stay this way, despite this being a climactic book. The sense of stress to the book shouldn't simply be "Kaladin is away" it should be all of these things, together, leading to the uncomfortable conclusion that you're not seeing a series wrap up...but a series unravel.

Now, I don't say this to detract from anyone's criticisms of the book--just as explanation for what I was doing. The goal is a symphony going further and further out of tune until you realize, "Wait. This isn't going to correct. It's going to stay that way."

It’s really good to know that Sanderson was doing this intentionally, that the book was supposed to feel jerky. A deliberate stylistic decision (whether or not I enjoy it) is a very different thing from a writing problem the author is unaware of.

Sanderson also talks about the balance in writing for an online fandom who will predict polot developments way ahead of time, while also writing for readers for readers that aren’t part of those lore-amd-plot-analysis-heavy forums. And in retrospect it feels like Sanderson was trying really hard to not blindside the not-online people with the ending – the disquieting pacing and the crumbling chapter-heading art both serving to signal that this isn’t going to be a happy ending. Given that Sanderson’s books, including all 4 previous installments in the Stormlight Archive, tend to lead ypu to the edge of disaster before averting it, I get why he wanted to somewhat telegraph that that wasn’t happening this time around.

But honestly, the most surprising thing to me in the comment was that Sanderson has watched (and liked!) Deadpool and Wolverine. 🤣

[reginaphalangelobster]

Draw

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Summary: Spencer asks you about your drawings.

Warnings: mentions of death, implied past domestic violence (reader), reader's mother died, a bit of pining.

Word Count: 2k

A/n: The moodboard is mine but the sketches are not, gorgeous though!

After every case you would pull out your little book. Whether it was to take notes about the day or write a shopping list, no one knew. You always kept to yourself and never really socialised, the team knew that and they left you be. All except Spencer. He knew what it felt like to be left out he'd never wish that on any of his friends, but especially not you. He often managed to be around, not talking your ear off or trying to get you to do something but just, around. He sat next to you in the car, stood close to you in briefings and worked with you whenever possible. You didn't think much of it, he was often being made fun of and even though it was by his friends, mostly Morgan, you could tell he didn't always find it funny. You didn't make fun of him, you barely spoke unless necessary but you never made fun of him and it was something he appreciated.

After most cases everyone would play cards or go to their own corners of the jet, you always opted for the latter. You'd sit there in silence and bring out the little pencil and notebook that you kept in your jacket pocket, always there, never moved unless you were using them. After a particularly rough case everyone was quiet, most listening to music or sleeping if they could. There you were, trusty pen and notebook in hand as per usual when you felt a presence beside you. No one ever sat next to you on the plane so of course the first person to do it would be Spencer. He didn't say anything at first. You tilted your notebook to the side a little, not to be rude but just because you liked your privacy. A hot commodity at the BAU.

The two of you sat there for a solid twenty minutes in complete silence before Spencer couldn't help but peak over your shoulder. He saw the soft lines your pencil made as your hand flicked back and forth forming a face.

"Are you drawing?" He asked, trying not to startle you with the sudden sound of his words.

"Yes" You whispered, subtly signalling him to lower his volume, of course, it didn't work but at least you tried.

"What are you drawing?"

"Not what, who"

"Okay, who are you drawing?"

"Lena"

He stopped and thought for a second "The fifth victim?"

"No. Lena, the seven year old girl who loved her cat and the colour orange"

"Oh" He said poignantly. Silence fell between the two of you again before Spencer spoke up.

"It's very good"

"Thank you"

He paused before asking his next question "Why are you drawing her?"

"I draw everyone"

"Everyone?"

"After each case, I draw every victim. Every hurt person, devastated parent and dead child"

Spencer went quiet again, thinking he'd struck a nerve. You could tell.

"I draw them because I remember them, I know what has happened to them. I saw their wounds and I found their bodies and they don't deserve to be remembered that way. So instead, I draw them happy, the way they should be remembered"

After a small silence passed Spencer looked at you again "That's very you, of you"

"What do you mean by that?"

"Nothing bad. It's just, I've seen you. You pretend to be all dark and mysterious and intimidating, and you are but, you're also very caring"

You scoffed "You're getting better at that humour thing"

"I'm serious. You see how much we all hate notifying the victim's families and you do it instead. You hold their hands and tell them that their daughter has been murdered and you comfort them every time. You pour yourself into every case and work yourself to the bone all while showing no emotions, never faltering. You don't just do it when we're on a case, you're always like that. You do the paperwork everyone dreads, you deal with administrators so Hotch doesn't have to, you pay attention to every little detail. Like when Morgan was talking about the first time he met Jordan, you remembered his coffee order and brought it in the next morning. You remembered that Jack had to be picked up from daycare an hour early and reminded Hotch. You told Kevin about an obscure collectable Garcia had been looking for so that he could give it to her as a present. You covered for Prentiss when she didn't want to talk to her mom. You helped Rossi with that case he could talk about and you never asked a single question. You broke, I'm guessing a lot, of laws when JJ was in labour and you were hours away. When I called you late one night and told you that my mom was sick you were in Vegas by the morning and you didn't even say a word, you just brought me a coffee and sat with me when I was scared. You're always there for everyone even if you won't say anything"

You looked down, letting his words sink in then you looked back up, smiling. It was small but it was still a smile nonetheless.

"Thank you Spencer. It means a lot to know that someone notices"

He looked at you fondly before looking back at the paper.

"So how many people have you drawn?"

You let out a half laugh at hearing the question "A lot"

"How many's a lot?"

"Hundreds, maybe thousands"

"Wow"

"I've been drawing people, not just people from cases, since before I started working at the BAU. I always have"

"How come? I mean, I know why you draw the people from each case but what got you started?"

"I don't know really, I've always drawn, since I was a kid. I think my mother taught me"

You looked down at the mention of her and Spencer's gaze followed. You never mentioned your mother before, or any of your family for that matter, but he knew she had died a long time ago.

"What was she like?" He asked carefully.

"I don't remember her much, I was only five when she died"

He avoided your gaze, he felt awful for drudging up the past that you had left behind, presumably for a reason.

"I do remember one thing though, her smile"

You flicked through your little sketchbook, the black leather cover was worn and greying. When you stopped on a page you stared at it for a second, your finger hovering over the paper, the edges torn and bent from being turned so many times.

"Here" You said just above a whisper as you presented the book to Spencer. He observed the drawings, pages upon pages of a woman's mouth smiling. So many of them looked the same but just a little different. The soft curve of her lips, the faint smile lines.

You began to speak again, so softly with an air of caution "She smiled all the time, I could tell when they were real, even at that age. I got used to the fake smiles, she taught me those too but the real ones, they were magical"

Your fingers brushed lightly against his as you turned the page. He felt your feather-light touch course through his body like lightning.

You showed him your sketches of random women, all smiling. They all looked different, your guesses at her appearance "I've often wondered about what she looked like, I drew these just to guess I suppose"

Spencer wasn't thinking about his words, just soaking in yours while he stared at the marks in lead "You have her smile"

You stopped and looked up at him, you looked into his eyes as they scanned the pages. He didn't think anything of his words but they were some of the kindest you'd ever heard.

"Thank you Spencer"

The sincerity in your tone was loud. The way your voice cracked for a split second, almost unnoticeable, but not to him. You had never been compared to your mother before, you had rarely been complimented in general but to hear that your smile was hers? It was truly the best thing you had ever heard.

Spencer looked back up at you and he saw your face. He saw the slight tremble in your bottom lip and your eyes, your beautiful eyes. He'd noticed them before, on many occasions actually, but never like this. The colour darkened, he wouldn't have noticed if he hadn't memorised every detail of your face. He wasn't sure at first but after looking closer he was certain, tears glossed over your eyes, tears. No one on the team had ever seen you anywhere near crying and here you were, on the brink of tears after he had said just four words.

"I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean t-"

He was cut off by the gentle press of your lips to his. He was shocked, to put it plainly. He had harboured these feelings for you for so long and he was near certain that you didn't think twice about him. He barely had time to obsess in his mind over what this meant, did you love him back? Were you dating? Did this all mean nothing to you, just a thank you? before the kiss was over. You pulled back, ending the kiss as quickly as it began.

"Thank you Spencer"

You began turning the pages back to your drawing of Lena when a particular sketch caught Spencer's eye.

"I-Is that me?"

You blushed ever so slightly, you didn't think he was paying attention and you were just flicking pages quickly.

"Yeah"

"Can I see?"

"You're not gonna let me say "no" are you?"

"Not really"

You regretfully handed him back the book and he looked at the drawing of himself. Most of the others were just sketches, amazing ones but fairly quick, this one thought, of him, was a perfect capture of his likeness. He could tell you had spent hours on it.

"It looks like me"

"That was kind of the point"

"No, I mean, it looks perfectly like me. I can't believe you drew this"

"I-It's no big deal or anything, I've done the whole team. Doesn't mean anything" You said dismissively, trying to get your sketchbook back before he found that yes, you had drawn the others a few times but there were at least thirty sketches of him, in this book.

"Can I see those too?" Spencer asked as he tried to mask his disappointment. It was silly of him, to think he was special to you.

"Sure, just let me find them"

You took the book back and flipped the pages to reveal similar drawings of JJ, Hotch, Emily, Morgan, Rossi, Elle, Gideon and Garcia.

"Why do we ever hire sketch artists?"

You laughed lightly, the smile staying on your face.

"They're all...breathtaking. But why am I looking down?"

Spencer noticed the confused expression that spread across your face.

"Everyone else is looking straight ahead or off to the side a little, I'm the only one looking down. Why?"

"I can't draw your eyes"

"Are you kidding? JJ and Prentiss' eyes are gorgeous, they look so real"

"I can't draw your eyes"

"What's so different about mine?"

"Everything" The word slipped out of your mouth before you could catch it.

"What do you mean, everything?"

You decided you may as well answer him, there was no way you could get out of it now.

"Your eyes are so full. So full of you. Sadness, happiness, dorkiness. They turn a deeper, walnut kind of brown when you're sad or angry. When you get all excited about a fact you're telling us they have the slightest golden tint and shine. When you're happy, really happy, they practically glow. It's hard to draw that"

He stared at you, just stared.

Tags

@pinkthick @craftytacopiecash @meryuniverse @aliljaybird @macbaetwo @castielshunterwife @scarletluvsdanno @twentyonetornmyheart @neospacedoctor @destiel-1967-sammy @yigashimei @something0193 @ursamajor17 @colorfulavenuecollection @fairytailnerd1024-blog @daithideolishmer18 @am-i-the-villain-co @mameeta @bblessed @maximum-uwu @bbywonu @nepobabyg @horselovers2016 @muichirolover

[the-modern-typewriter]

I absolutely love your writing. Any advice on how to get as good as you?

Practice! (I've been writing pretty regularly for at least 15 years, not to discourage you, just to highlight that it's a learned and very much practiced skill). It doesn't matter what format this practice takes - fanfiction, tumblr snippets, boldly jumping into your first novel, trying to write out a short story idea. Just sit down and actually write. That's the single most important thing in my opinion.

Figure out what you like writing about. This doesn't have to be one thing. But you're going to be spending a lot of time with your writing projects, so while you will inevitably go through periods of not feeling it, it's important that it excited you once. Be a little bit obsessed by your niche, or your love of enemies to lovers, or whatever. Be self-indulgent.

Remember that 80% of great writing is actually good editing skills. Your ability to come up with ideas and a good story or lovable characters is a different skill to beautiful prose and execution. It's okay to get the story/idea down and then work on perfecting it with study/second opinions whatever. If you are editing, leave at least a 2 week period or something so you can see the piece with fresh eyes.

Read books and learn about writing. Figure out what you like in the books you like and why. Or, what you don't like. Equally important. You will find, as you drill down to different stories, that they often have a similar structure that you can draw from in your own work, etc. However, don't necessarily feel tied to this. It's useful as a jumping point to know craft, but it's ultimately a creative medium. If you're doing what you're doing for a reason and it feels right for your story, then it's probably valid.

I hope this helps!

[prettypinkporkchop]

REQUEST!!

Seth Clearwater x alt human reader

Bella and reader go with each other to check on Jacob. Paul Lahote obviously went to his wolf form and hurts reader before Jacob can jump in, while reader falls down, Seth and reader make eye contact and he imprints :3 then a fight breaks out between Seth and Paul because obviously Paul hurt Seth's imprint

(would this be classed as breaking sam's rules of imprints not being harmed? Idk 😭)

(A/N: we are changing things up a bit here. Seth is 19 in this story. He shifted before his father died and before Leah. He's already with Sam, Jared, Paul, and Embry. The pic of him above is how he looked irl when he was 19, so we use that as a reference here!)

"Bella, don't piss me off."

Seth Clearwater x alt fem reader

Warnings:

You have lived in Forks forever. You're well aware of Jacob and all of them guys on the rez because you work in a diner that they frequently go to. You know them all by name.

Bella is already walking out of her truck to confront the guys. You groan and roll down the window. "Bella, don't piss me off." You say.

She turns to you for a moment before walking further towards the shirtless guys.

This is what you get for befriending the most curious and nosey girl.

You sigh and stare out the window to be sure everything is okay. You notice Paul is getting heated. You know he's a hotheaded guy. You instantly get out of the truck.

"Bella! Leave them alone!" You call out. Your boots stomp the wet ground.

Before you can reach them, she slaps Paul.

Your eyes widen, and you run over there to pull her away. As you get to her and pull her arm so she's away from them, you feel pain in your back.

You scream and fall on the ground. The pain is so bad. You hear loud roaring, and you look to see a gigantic wolf.

Embry and Jared go over to you in a panic. Seth follows behind them, and you meet Seth's gaze.

You feel something. Something... powerful and strange. Momentarily, the pain is forgotten. Until he turns into a wolf and runs to Paul. Then, you're back to reality, and so is the pain.

"Hey, hey, goth chick.. breathe. We're gonna get you help." Jared says in a panic.

Embry glares at Jared. "That's not her name, idiot." He turns to you with soft eyes. "Hey, it's going to be okay. Sam is getting help."

--- you pass out ---

SETH'S POV:

I bite Paul's neck. He whimpers but in his mind, he's yelling at me.

"SETH! STOP! I'M SORRY! I DIDN'T MEAN TO-"

I shut him up by knocking him against a tree. Paul lies against the tree. He's not fighting back but I'm so angry...

Suddenly, Sam appears and I can hear his thoughts. "Seth! Stop! Now!"

---- Back to you ---

You wake up to pain on your back. You groan and roll over onto your side.

"Hey, hey.. don't move too much." A voice speaks. It's familiar.

You open your eyes to see you're in a random bedroom. You look over and see Seth Clearwater. Your eyes meet, and you relax instantly. You smile at him and sigh.

He doesn't smile back. He's staring at you with worry. He swallows hard, wondering if you remember the events that took place.

Oh, you do. After a few seconds of coming to, it all hits you.

Wolves.

You cover your mouth slowly as you stare at Seth.

Seth nods his head and looks away. "Figured you'd remember. I hate that it happened this way.." He whispers.

You're confused as hell. Also, why the hell does it feel like he is an Angel you've been missing forever?

Seth stands up and walks over to the side of the bed. He crouches down. His face and few inches away. He brushes a strand of hair from your face. "There's a lot to explain." He searches your eyes. Then, suddenly he slowly starts to smile. "God, you're beautiful." He rubs his thumb over your cheek.

🫦

[liedownquisition]

Ah I see, so you just... don't actually understand that the way you phrase things imply things. Cool. Got it. That explains your own difficulty understanding the text, got it.

Also, no you're not really explaining it, and even if you were no one was asking for that "explanation" in the first place. Read the first post again, you'll notice the operative phrase "a lot of people" and this is specifically directed at things like people who complain/hate on Jason Todd, while adoring other characters who share a lot of significant themes, personality characteristics, and concepts with him.

It also, most 100% definitely says that that dislike is valid? But this is about people and things that complain about Jason for things that are DEFINITELY prevalent also in the characters that they do "stan." Such as Batman, or Huntress, and so on and so forth. It's kind of like this:

Where people prop up their character for doing the same things, which funny thing is usually more common with female characters on the negative end of it so this is a somewhat interesting, if still exhausting, subversion of a very boring and repetitive issue.

Anyways you also missed the part where we both agreed that Jason was an extension of the same philosophy - yes, that even includes the fascist portions. (Bitter even Literally Also Called Jason Fascist). A vast majority of the superhero fantasy at its core cannot exist without some degrees of it, particularly once it starts expanding into the kind of universe DC currently has. Come on, the watchtower? Brother Eye? Are these not sparking red flags in your mind? And who, exactly, is responsible for them?

Batman.

Also, Batman has been called fascist multiple times even in-canon and spin-off properties. Usually by Green Arrow, or in that Blue Beetle movie. They're not wrong, but no one takes Green Arrow seriously about it and the Blue Beetle line was framed as a joke for the audience to laugh at.

-He asked Bruce why he wouldn't, and when Bruce gave his answer he... "accepted" it and asked him to stand by and let him do it himself. If you wanted to illustrate the point of Jason asking Bruce to kill the Joker, maybe you should have picked the pages right before this where he was going on, at length, about the reasons WHY Bruce should have? Instead of the one where he literally said "Fine, I'll do it"? The page that literally says, twice, "You won't kill him, I will." And even then, that speech was less asking him to do it and more condemning him for his choices.

He didn't say "Don't" he said "Won't" the time is long since past for Bruce to be the one to pull that trigger. If he was trying to get Bruce to kill Joker, he didn't try very hard.

-That's fine not to reread, but you're clearly not remembering a lot of it or went into it with such a biased perspective you weren't paying attention (which, you know, it's a bad comic I can't entirely blame people from missing things. But again, at least hate things accurately?). Kori had more character and development than Roy did, actually. At least in the parts Lobdell wrote. I still haven't decided how to classify Tynion's portion of that mess. It gives me a headache.

-I never said Jason was a better Batman, I said that his ideals of "wanting to be a better Batman" means that his ultimate motivation is just an extremist version of Bruce's own. Once again: that means that if Batman is a fascist, then so is Jason. Albeit one that operates outside the overarching fascist system Bruce aligns with and attempts to build his own, equally flawed system

-Do you realize how many poor people literally kill themselves to get out of medical debt because they cannot find work and see themselves as just burdens to themselves and sometimes their families? Do you know how common it is for people to realize they need expensive medical care and ask their families to let them die instead for the same reason and how that's not really that far off from killing yourself for it? Do you even understand how much poor people who can't afford insurance just don't go to the hospital and die of preventable/fixable things because they're afraid of medical bills? Have you been paying no attention whatsoever to how even with insurance it's a huge issue to not get medical care because it gets denied and would be too expensive without it which is a RELEVANT and RECENT topic of concern?

It's still a death, it's just one that you can pretend didn't spiral from the initial incident. Slow, and agonizing, and you're going to suffer and know what caused it the whole way while Batman remains blissfully ignorant of his responsibility in your suffering.

And, with regards to your tags: Hi! Not only Have I been affected by organized crime, My family was part of, and torn apart by it. Speaking of putting words in our mouths, when did we say it was okay for him to kill "bad poor people"? We didn't. And Bruce Beating and Throwing "bad poor people" in jail doesn't help their families either! I've said it before but if Bruce was paying attention to the families of the criminals he & the system he supports put in jail and doing anything about it, chances are Jason wouldn't have ended up homeless in the first place!

"It's okay to prey on addicts as long as they're not kids" we ALSO didn't say that but do you know what happens when you cut addicts off cold turkey? I've known people who were in so much pain from the cravings that they were tearing out their hair and chunks of their scalp and digging their nails into their arms so hard they bled. I have known people who had seizures during withdrawals and hit their head going down and died because no one knew it was happening. I have known people who got arrested and thrown in jail and died in their cells because they were left to go through the withdrawals with no assistance.

Cutting the drug lines entirely isn't the answer, either. Preventing them from getting more kids hooked on drugs is the bare minimum. It's not an endpoint, it's a beginning.

To be honest I think that a lot of people who share the anti Jason Todd sentiment don't even actually hate Jason. I think a lot of them hate what he forces the narrative to do.

Jason forces the subversion of the hero genre -- he's the single, most extreme proof that Batman's hero fantasy wouldn't be effective in real life, and therefore Jason showing up can take you out of the universe really fast really hard. A lot of people are here for what comics are meant to offer, the one man hero fantasy that makes you Feel Good, and Jason showing up doesn't Allow you to enjoy it! And if that's the case, you're completely justified in not liking Jason, he takes you out of the thing you enjoy.

I think a lot of you don't actually find his personality or acts annoying in of themselves, you just hate what those actions do to the genre itself. And I think once you realize that and start looking at comics like actual pieces of literature, Jason and shitty comics both will become a lot less rage inducing to you.

[fictionrealms]

One For The Money

Zayne x Non MC x Caleb

TW:

self-depreciation, smut, fake dating trope, emotional manipulation, HEA, named MC and OC to help the flow and characterization, smoking, cigarettes, substance abuse, alcohol consumption, alcohol abuse, neglect, MDNI

Summary:

It was a mistake. Taking that deal was a dangerous mistake. But it was the perfect way to make Zayne finally notice me in all the ways that mattered most. I just didn't think I would be pulled into Caleb's gravity at the same time.

Word Count: 2062

Finished || Ongoing

Chapter One->Chapter Two->Chapter Three->Chapter Four

Chapter Five->Chapter Six

One For The Money - Chapter 7 - bhaalistbabe - 恋与深空 | Love and Deepspace (Video Game) [Archive of Our Own]

X: it was nice talking 2 u

X: maybe movie nite sometime?

It's been an hour, maybe more, since I read his messages. How was I supposed to respond to that? Genuine friendship. Something I hadn't had in possibly my entire life. But here was Xavier holding out an olive branch of something sacred and pure. No hidden agenda, and ulterior motives. Just something to bring comfort and companionship. 

And then there was me. Something akin to a skittish cat he might have seen in an alleyway. Too scared to lean into a friendly hand and take a chance. 

What was I supposed to do with this?

It feels like suffocating if I think about it too long. Like that moment when you take off on your bike down a steep  hill as a kid. A rush of adrenaline at first before the fact that you're going to inevitably crash sinks in. When all you can do is grab the breaks and hope for the best. That maybe you won't get thrown over your handlebars and go face-first into something that would hurt worse than the impact from a crash.

Nights like these were the worst. When I'm left alone with my thoughts and the reality of my life kicks in. How fitting it was that I carried the grief of my dad's absence while Cash carried the weight of our mother's gradual decline. Tried to tell myself that it was his turn. I had carried it my entire childhood, after all. Shielding him from the reality that our mother was something else. Anything but a mother. 

Forcing myself to my feet, I go to the kitchen. Grabbing a bottle of 151 out of the cabinet and taking a drink straight from the source. There's a knock at the door before I hear the sound of a key unlocking it.

Cash enters with a duffel bag slung over one shoulder. He runs a hand through his hair, tossing the bag on the couch. 

"You're drinking?" There's an undercurrent to his tone that I ignore. Something like concern or worry that came with the crease in his brow. The way he watched me like I was a wild animal he was scared to approach if he wasn't cautious enough. "Iris, it's three in the afternoon. Don't you think it's a bit early to be picking up the bottle?"

I raise the bottle of 151, tilting it when it touches my lips as if to initiate a cheers. "It's five 'o' clock somewhere, right?"

"God, at least pour it in a glass. And is that—"

"Rum? Why yes it is, big brother. Join me won't you?"

"Isn't that—"

"What mom was drinking the day dad left?"

"I was going to say bottom shelf."

He meets me at the island between the living room and the kitchen. Fingers curling around the marble. His mouth pressing into a thin line. Cash was studying me like he would someone he wasn't sure he could trust. The way he did when we were kids and he didn't know what to make of Zayne just yet. When our mother first started dropping me off on Josephine's doorstep so she could drink herself into a stupor. Or when I would beg to spend the night at Zayne's to have a night of peace.

"Don't look at me like that, Cash."

"Like what? I'm just looking at yo-"

"Like you don't trust me. It's just rum. I'm not going to-"

"Get pissed drunk and not remember anything the next day? Don't lie to me, Iris. I know you better than that."

"I'm not mom, Cash." There's a dangerous undercurrent to my voice. Something dark and ancient. Something long since buried that was threatening to surface.

Rage.

Denial.

Panic.

It has many forms.

It carries many names.

"But you will be if you keep doing this to yourself." His voice is softer now, but still holds the edge it did before.

My eyes narrow. A sob burning its way up my throat. 

"Don't. Don't you dare say that like you know a fucking thing about mom."

"I'm not the one who ran away now am I? I'm the one who stayed behind to-"

"You and I had entirely different childhoods, Cash! Look at us! Yeah, you stayed behind to sweep everything mom burned to the ground under the rug. Congratulations! You want a trophy for that?"

"Yeah? If we grew up so different then why don't you tell me what it was like. Since I'm clearly so wrong here. Enlighten me, baby sister."

Tears stream down my cheeks as I throw back another drink. Already almost emptying the bottle at this point. "You grew up playing basketball with Caleb. Played games with McKenna and went off to Aerospace Academy. You were the golden boy. Doted on. Meanwhile I-"

"You chose to stay in the house! That was your choice! Why am I being crucified for being a kid?"

"So you didn't see mom passed out in the kitchen! I stayed inside as long as it took for the paramedics to get to the house. I woke up seeing mom on the kitchen floor and had to call 911 so she wouldn't choke on her own vomit, Cash! I was protecting you from seeing her at her worst so you didn't-"

"Run off like dad did?"

I wipe my nose with the back of my hand. "Look at me and see mom. Because we both know that's why dad never looked back."

"Iris….you know that's not-"

"True? Yes, it is. Even I can see her when I look in the mirror, Cash. It's just easier for us both if we accept the truth for what it is."

He turns to grab his bag from the couch. Slinging it over his shoulder again before turning over his shoulder to give me the look of a puppy who had been kicked. I hated that look. It was the same one everyone gave me when I tell them how I grew up. I guess some things never change. Even when we grew up under the same roof. Connected by blood.

"For what it's worth, sis… I'm sorry you were the one who did that. It should have been me."

Then he leaves with the click of the door.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It wasn't late by any means.

Not when he was so used to getting home at well past midnight. Streetlights were just starting to turn on all throughout Skyhaven. Even from his penthouse tucked away from the rest of the floating island, he could hear the laughter and banter of would-be lovers down below.

While he scrolled through his picture gallery on his phone. Back pressed against the mattress of his bed. Legs hanging off the side and a bottle of Jack in one hand. Every picture had her in it one way or another. Her face lit up with a smile that could bring any man to his knees. Chocolate hair done in curls floating down her back. 

Caleb felt sick.

Like he was watching their childhood through eyes that didn't deserve to see her anymore. And maybe she had been right. Maybe she didn't need him anymore. The thought left him with a sharp pain in his chest. Or maybe it was the burn from the alcohol. He wasn't really sure anymore. Didn't want to know the reason why he felt sick to his stomach at the very idea of another man making her light up the same way he used to be able to.

His phone vibrated in his hand. Just as his thumb swiped to a picture of her in his Aerospace jacket. He blinks.

Once.

Twice.

And there was a picture of Iris on his phone instead of her. Hair still pink but considerably lighter than it is now. Falling down to her waist in soft waves. She was on her knees, facing a window and the soft glow of the sun accented the freckles that danced across her shoulders. Made the pink in her hair just a little brighter than what it was faded to. It was an old picture. One she had sent him and told him to set as her ID in his phone.

Her name flashed across the screen; Pixie.

"Isn't it a little late for you to be calling, Pix?" He tried to sound irritated. But it was hard when his cock twitched at the sound of her voice.

"C'me over." Her words slur together.

"What? You sound drunk."

"Did I sutter? I 'aid; c'me oooover, 'Leb."

"Have you been drinking?" He pauses as he checks the time on the alarm clock on his nightstand. "It's only seven."

There's an even longer pause on her end of the phone. Like she's thinking or trying to process what he said.

Then a loud crash. Glass shattering.

"Shhhhit!"

"You alright there, Pix?"

"Rum. My rum, 'Leb! It broke." Her voice breaks when she answers. It sounds like she's about to cry.

"You're drunk. And you called me to come over. Listen, why don't you-"

"No, no, no, no! Just…c'me over, yeah?"

It was a bad idea.

Caleb knew it was.

But it didn't stop him from grabbing his keys from the nightstand.

"Fine. But only to make sure you don't kill yourself."

Then—silence.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When he gets there, the door is already unlocked. All he had to do was push it open. Music could be heard all the way in the breezeway. 

And she's in nothing but an oversized black shirt and panties. Dancing in her kitchen like she had an audience to impress and using a bottle half full of some kind of alcohol as a microphone. Bright pink hair pulled half-up and feet bare. She looked carefree. Like she hadn't just called him not even an hour ago practically begging him to come over.

Albeit drunk.

She's singing. Quite loud. Lost in her own world.

And it takes him a moment to stop staring. Caleb moves forward, putting himself in line of Iris and the kitchen island. Deftly taking the bottle from her hand and taking a drink of it for himself. It tastes sweet. Like apple pie. But burns on the way down his throat.

"Is this moonshine?" He tries to call over the music.

"Wha-?"

"I said—for the love of fucking god, can you turn this down? My eardrums are bleeding!"

Iris giggles with a shake of her head. "No can do, buckaroo!"

He runs a hand through his hair, leaning in so his mouth is next to her ear. "Is this moonshine?"

She nods. "Sure is! You want some?"

Caleb doesn't give her an answer. Glancing down at her phone before grabbing it to turn down the music that was bluetoothed to it.

"Hey!" Her lower lip juts out in a pout.

"I can't even hear you with that blaring in my ears."

"Mood killer."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I'm not sure how much time has passed between the decision to call him and when I begin to slowly sober. There's still a fair amount of moonshine in my system. But I'm a little more coherent now at least. The room still fuzzy from the sheer amount of alcohol I drank and my skin feels warm. Like I had a fever. 

I wasn't even sure why I called him instead of Zayne.

But it was too late now.

Caleb sits at the island. Elbows propped up and his knuckles under his chin. There was something in the way his tank top clung to him that hummed to me. Has his arms always been this massive? Surely, this was the making of the Fleet's training. Even my brother seems sulkier now than when he was in the DAA with him.

"So, are you going to tell me why you wanted me to come over? Or are you just going to stand there and stare at my arms all night?" His tone is smug and I want to shove him off the stool he sits on.

"'m not staring." I sound pathetic.

"Sure you're not."

Instead of dignifying that with a proper response or rebuttal—I shove the bottle of moonshine in his face. "You need my level."

He quirks a brow at my drunken statement. "You mean I need to be on your level?"

"Whatever. Drink."

[befuddledcinnamonroll]

I have so many shows to catch up on, but my brain has taken hold of a thought and apparently will not let it go until I write it down. And this thought has to do with BL fandom, and how it reacts to different kinds of power dynamics. And I do think it's worth talking about.

Full disclosure, I love messy power dynamics, give me the most toxic shit and I will enjoy the hell out of it, because for me fiction and reality are very distinct things, and I can compartmentalize and find the fun in the mess.

However I respect that different people have different lines for what works and what doesn't work for them, but that's why I've been finding it particularly interesting seeing where that line has been drawn lately.

Because we have two shows running concurrently right now, and although they couldn't look more different on the surface, there are some really interesting similarities.

Both shows have:

a main character who is obsessed with their love interest

who can be quite impulsive at times

who regularly ignores/overrides their love interest's stated wishes and desires (ie violations of consent)

and utilizes the power dynamic at their disposal to ensure that their desire for their love interest is fulfilled

getting them into an intimate relationship with their love interest where their wishes run the show

also, interestingly, both have book sources that make it more direct and clear that the love interest is quite into the dynamic at play. However due to the nature of visual media, this is still present but more indirectly conveyed in the series - resulting in a wider range in audience interpretation of events

Yet despite all these similarities, one of these main characters is regularly criticized for their use of power (lovingly, by a fair segment of fandom, that is true), and one is almost never criticized for their use of power.

I find this fascinating.

I am, of course, speaking of Sorn in My Stubborn

and Khanin in The Next Prince.

Let's start with talking about Sorn.

His power differentials over Jun include:

Bigger/stronger

Older/More experienced (especially sexually)

Has a position of authority over Jun at work

The work one is pretty minimal, however, Sorn can and did give Jun a bad day, but if he tried to do that again, or escalate in any way, Tai would have his ass on a plane to Vietnam first thing the next day. Jun's relationship with Tai mitigates this as a real factor.

Most of the power dynamic comes into play with two things. One, the age/experience level - Sorn attempting to manipulate Jun into believing their relationship is just about sex while acting the jealous boyfriend. Though as we get closer to wrapping up the series, Jun has gained enough experience to make this less effective (although I did see some people claiming that Sorn was entirely manipulating his way through the last episode. I disagree, but the viewpoint is out there).

And two, the one I think people have the most issue with - Sorn's physicality, and how he handles Jun.

Now let's talk about Khanin. In many ways he is the opposite of Sorn - he is younger, smaller, more delicate, more inexperienced (in Emmalian and other life navigation matters, he is likely more experienced sexually).

His power differentials over Charan can be summed up more succinctly:

He is a prince in a country ruled by monarchy

However, this is a pretty fucking massive power differential.

And Khanin has never hesitated to use it, when he feels Charan slipping away, and wants him back in his presence. He doesn't always succeed in getting his way with the king, but it never stops him from trying.

It's easy to say that Khanin would never actually harm Charan, but remember, power differentials are not just about what actions are directly taken, but what there is the potential for.

I've seen many takes concerned with Sorn's potential for harming Jun, yet pretty much none concerned with Khanin's potential for harming Charan.

Don't forget we have seen direct examples that:

A prince of Emmaly can openly and freely abuse a member of their household without repercussion

A prince of Emmaly can order their guards to abuse a member of their household without repercussion

Due process, if it's codified into law at all, can be ignored (Charan proved this himself with chaining up and beating Khanin's coach/attempted assassin)

Now, of course, both of these shows are romances, and clearly designed for both Jun and Charan to be attracted to the power dynamics at play, even when they find them frustrating.

But I do have to think - would Sorn be receiving this much anger and criticism if he was just a cute little manipulative twink? Would Khanin be excused so much if he was bigger than Charan, and a better fighter? What does this say about how we view traditionally masculine vs feminine traits, and who gets perceived as a threat vs who gets seen as innocent?

Why is power expressed physically so much more upsetting to some than power expressed politically? Khanin has the potential to do so much more harm in a few days than Sorn could accomplish in a llfetime. And yet... he does look like this.

To be clear, I am enjoying both of these shows. At the end of the day, these are romances, and we all like what we like, and don't like what we don't like. But I think there is some very juicy food for thought here, and it's worth reflecting on.

[undertalecookingwithkindness]

Happy Pride from The Eclipse! (A Short Update Post) (Art by @nikazio)

Happy Pride Month everyone! (We barely managed to make it in time...)

So! It's been a while, huh. As we predicted, the drop of deltarune sent development out the window for a week or two, but since then we've gotten back into the swing of things.

This update will be short, as we're saving the big things to update you all on for the next update. So, we'll only be going through a few things.

First off! Scoring implementation is (mostly) complete now! This means that, on paper, cooking is complete and functional!

I say mostly because the major thing we are missing is tracking score in each individual minigame. This will be where most of our programming power will be diverted to for the next month so that we can properly test and balance cooking, alongside implementing new minigames and fixing old ones. We're not out of the woods yet, but we've made tremendous progress!

The next major thing to update you all on:

Remember CORE Square? We had a whole update post about it a few months ago! Well, shortly after that post, the team decided that the CORE Square needed a revamp! So for the past few months, we've been redesigning the CORE Square, adding extra areas, and updating the layout! This progress is still ongoing, and it's a large undertaking being worked on by most of our spriters and artists. Don't worry though, everything you loved about the old CORE Square is still there, just now prettier, bigger and more logically laid out than before! We can't wait to show you the new version when it's ready!

Finally, the most minor of updates:

There's a new version of Grillby (the song)! Check it out!

Many songs are currently getting cleaned up by our composers, and we've got a lot of other songs that we have ready that we're hoping to show you when you get to play the game when the demo releases later this year. Because of this, don't expect us to reveal many new tracks until then, though we'll keep you updated on updates to already revealed songs!

We'd also like to remind our Tumblr followers that our ask box is always open if you want to send a letter to The Eclipse!

That's about everything we had to say for today-

Wait! One more thing! We also want to introduce Wood Man (https://youtube.com/@glitchphoenix2242) as our newest team member and programmer!

Okay, NOW that's everything. Keep an eye, ear and mouth out for us over the next month or so, hopefully we'll have the big update post and surprise ready by then. Until then, enjoy what little remains of pride month left to enjoy.

(Art by @s0ckh3adstudios)

Kind Regards,

The Eclipse.