#it's just here for me to post stuff i made without any real pressure

[nariarts]

(Un)Necessary Evil

I don't think I'm cut out for running my own business. I'm writing that now so the next time I convince myself I'm able to do a side hustle without burning myself out I remember that's a fuckin lie.

Anyway. Still trying to learn to love the thing I was gonna do again, but it's a process.

[larkingame]

so, it's 2025...long time no see.

I'll skip they hi, how are yous and get down to the real meat and potatoes of what I'm here to say. TLDR: Larkin is still being worked on (screenshots + such below) and it's always going to remain a free game, but it's under heavy construction atm. thanks for checking in ���

for the two people who want to hear the long sob story that usually comes with these type of posts from online creators: I fucked up my back majorly and was out of work for a long time. I went back to work pre-maturely and! I've fucked it up again. the stress of this, lack of income and the fact that i've been taking a lot of meds to help the injuries (but mess with my ability to stay coherent) has made it really difficult to consistently focus on larkin, writing, social media in general, but it is still getting worked on in bits and pieces.

that said, some back story: I started working on larkin in 2019/2020 and it was really really fun! loved it. had a great time. but then i started posting about it and showed it to other people (and to my surprise they??????? liked it????) which made me put a very large amount of pressure on myself that made it not so fun any more. over time i would go through cycles of it's fun! to it's not fun! and so on and so forth. throughout this time I also had pressure from a lot of people around me (irl) to somehow like. strictly monetize larkin somehow, and as someone who was like VERY INSECURE and obsessed with people like mishka making like insane funds off of her game of the same type?/genre? i gave in to that pressure (if you could not tell by all my occasional dirty deletes of shade towards twc. truly pathetic and if any of yall saw. apologies and thanks for ignoring it.) addressing that: i liked twc when it came out, it was fun for what it was and larkin would not exist without it. so thanks for that miss jenkins and i will probably still passively engage with it on my own time.

but, back to larkin. anyways, the looming pressure of this need to monetize made me hate everything that i was doing and constantly feel like i needed to re-evolve and rework and just, overall not have a fun time with it. throughout the months of november, december and january when i was really missing the days of larkin's existence as an idea when me and my sister would just like walk around our neighborhood and i would just infodump to her about my cowboy vampire ocs. so i found my old larkin notebook and the stickies i made planning plot stuff and avoiding tumblr i just. had fun working on my little cowboy vampire game. like not really thinking about other stuff. and that's essentially it.

so I came to a conclusion: larkin is something i love, and i want to continue loving it. so essentially, i won't be monetizing the game itself. episodes/chapters whatever they end up being in the end will always be free. yay. if you want extra content/want to support me in some way monetarily, feel free to join the patreon, however, I won't really be active on it until i have something substantial to show you game wise. that being said, you can still subscribe for access to the backlog of short stories and art etc. I'm turning off charges each month until i have like a real game for you to play that doesn't make me sick to my stomach to look at or think about. another note: pc players are going to be priority until it's finished. I will have a mobile version but i can't promise you she will be all that pretty.

another note, because larkin is free i can't promise quick turnarounds on anything but what i'll be offering on patreon when i start charging again and additionally: i'm back to making larkin a game for me. i really lost a lot of enjoyment for doing this stuff when i thought about that pressure i put on myself like i mentioned above but also, when i started writing it for other people in mind. first and foremost i am making larkin because i like cowboys, i like vampires, i like horror and religious trauma themes. i'm writing this for me: kc, so i can go on my computer and teehee at all the kissing scenes and make a cool cowboy character with fights. i'm going to make it gay and self-indulgent and basically just have fun with it because it's my game and i am making it and i said so.

all that said here are some of the major things i've done with larkin over this past little while:

updated the website so that it is now useable :)

done a lot of work on the ui:

and i have been rewriting a lot of stuff because I FEEL like it was not good and was not fun for me. THE DEMO FROM LAST JUNE ESPECIALLY. it hurts my stomach to look at.

visually, dan (@tapeworrmart ) has been on his fucking a-game with the art even through my crisis. here's the male ace portrait he put together for me last fall and the art for the main menu:

we also have some more art in the works that i am very excited for because they are in pursuit of new fun features :D

all that said. thanks for the continued support if you're still reading this, appreciate any interest you have in my game.

[aihoshiino]

Hi, anon from the Ai and Hikaru break up ask again! I agree with everything you say and already had such an idea in mind, so I think the fault is at my side and I'm not formulating my question correctly, my apologies. I hope I'm not pestering you, but this is something that I would like to have an answer to and you still seem like the best source. So, I understand that Ai had knowledge of Hikaru's situation, but why say it out loud and not stay quiet? She hid her pregnancy from almost everyone, so why not him? From what the manga portrays, I think she cares at least a little bit about him, so why not lie? Is there a reason she didn't lie when Hikaru asked why she wanted to break up? Or why did she not avoid mentioning her pregnancy or his situation? As I think that would be more in line with Ruby's portrayal of her in chapter 146 where she said that lies would not work on Hikaru and also her general avoidance of answering certain questions. Why not break up with him without mentioning her pregnancy or Taiki or anything from that sort, as that would automatically hurt him? I think you esthablised that deliberately hurting him was not her intention and I agree, so why not avoid answering him honestly? Does this have something to do with what Akane said in chapter 28, with "secretive but had a desire for exposure"? Or is it something else I'm missing? Or are there no answers from canon? Or am I overseeing something simple? Or am I just not getting it?

There's no need to apologize, anon!! Honestly what am I here for if not to post at length about Hoshino Ai lol

and tbh, more seriously. I really don't blame anyone for being confused about the HikaAi stuff because as compelled as I am by the broad strokes of what's suggested in the text, it is ultimately a direly underwritten relationship especially in comparison for how loadbearing it is for the series. One of the things I was most excited about in the Movie Arc were those scraps of info about how things went between them - I think it did a really good job of making me believe these two characters fell in love and made me want to root for them even knowing how it all ended, which ofc makes the tragedy of it all that much more effective. The fact that the story chooses to undermine itself by definitively stating in no uncertain terms that all these sweet and enjoyable scenes that properly sell the HikaAi romance are completely made up fiction by someone who had never met either of them is… not the most baffling decision Aka makes in the Movie Arc but it sure as hell is up there.

This isn't helped by the fact that both within the fiction of 15 Year Lie and in the tiny scattering of real flashbacks to that relationship, Ai's perspective is almost entirely absent. While we do get that little snippet from the DVD, that was primarily about Ai's feelings in the wake of the breakup, reflecting on the relationship in hindsight and not really about how it felt for her in the moment or how much pressure there was on her to be Kamiki's one and only sole pillar of happiness. There's a really interesting little tidbit in Kamiki's telling of events where Ai is smiling brightly when he's looking right at her but the panels in which his attention is away from her face, she looks troubled - but without any extrapolation as to Ai's perspective or a look into how she experienced the relationship, Kamiki's perspective and what ultimately turns out to be an uncharitable characterization of Ai in relation to it is the final word that is only partially refuted by the reveal of the DVD's message.

And like, that lack of Ai's perspective is interesting in its own way, at least for how it ties into what the Movie Arc tries to touch on where no matter how hard everyone here tries to portray 'the real Ai', they have to make peace with the fact that they don't know if what they're showing to the public is truth because Ai herself is not here to make herself understood. But it doesn't really feel intentional. One of the biggest problems with 15 Year Lie as an object in the narrative is that it's a story about Ai's life that completely fails to be about her story or to engage with any of the themes present in her wider arc and this failure to consider her perspective on her most narratively weighty relationship aside from the twins speaks to that lack of consideration.

Actually, now I'm saying all this - I kind of wonder if some of the really bonkers uncharitable takes about Ai in the fandom following that reveal are because she isn't given the chance to tell her side of the story. I mentioned this in an earlier post but there were a lot of people (not so much on onkblr but defo in other parts of the fandom) who turned on Ai pretty extremely when we actually saw how the HikaAi breakup went - basically just a load of the victim-blaming misogyny and "why did this fictional character not do the emotionless logical course of action that i, the detached reader, would have logically taken? is she an evil, lying whore?" you can expect whenever a fictional teenage girl makes a social blunder. And while I don't think it would have entirely shut down that sort of backlash because this fandom is just kind is weirdly misogynistic in general sometimes, I do wonder if the story properly exploring Ai's experience of the relationship and letting her give voice more extensively to her own misgiving about the direction it took would have mitigated that sort of response.

UM. SEVEN HUNDRED WORDS AND I HAVEN'T EVEN STARTED PROPERLY ADDRESSING YOUR QUESTION YET. GONNA BE ONE OF THOSE POSTS, HUH!!!!

Anyway to uh. finally wind my way back to a response to your actual question, I think the most straightforward way to answer this is that Ai did not lie to Hikaru about her pregnancy because she did not want to lie.

edit from future Claire: 'at length' rly wasn't a joke............. this ended up being basically an analysis of Ai's relationship to dishonesty and authenticity and the ways her relationships with people in general are affected by it, on top of the hikaai analysis

Generally speaking, one of the most important things to key into when analyzing Ai as a character is that Ai doesn't lie even half as much as you might otherwise think and the reasons that she lies are ultimately much more important than the end point of this behaviour. Ai's core motivation is, under everything else, to connect with other people and to love and be loved in an honest and authentic way. But as both an abuse victim and someone commodified into a role like an idol, she holds the belief that her true, unvarnished self is unworthy of giving and receiving love and that she must lie just to be treated with like… basic kindness on a day to day basis.

But at the end of the day, Ai's 'lie' is really just the maintaining of her public persona and a fervent protection of the boundary between her public and true selves, to the point of essentially committing to a narrative that her 'true self' does not exist. Anything that would shatter the illusion that "Ai of B-Komachi", the flawless and invincible genius idol, is her whole true self with absolutely nothing else going on in her life that could spoil the image is not just omitted but actively obfuscated, to the point that even her surname is not public knowledge. In addition, a lot of the mythology surrounding 'Ai of B-Komachi' as this unassailable, inhuman force of star power, whose every single word and breath was precision point calculated to never let any of her true feelings show is a narrative that other people made up and projected onto Ai, especially in the wake of her death. 45510 and POV B are both really great examples of how this happened within Ai's personal relationships and how each narrator's respective self-awareness of that fact impacted the way they interacted with her and how it affects their ability to engage with Ai's true self - Kyun doesn't just accept her but seems to prefer her to the inhumanly polished idol whereas Nino is so repulsed by even the slightest hint of her vulnerability that she has to permanently erase it to make sure nobody ever stumbles across it again.

An important thing to note, however, is that 'Ai Hoshino' and 'Ai of B-Komachi' are not really entirely distinct nor is the 'real Ai' really all that meaningfully different from her public persona, at least to the extent that you can consider them separate from each other. This is something Rie Takahashi (and implicitly through her, Aka Akasaka) mentions as being key in her First Report interview - that 'Ai of B-Komachi' isn't a distinct, separate self as much as she is just a different facet of Ai's authentic self that she shows depending on the situation, just as all people do.

A lot of this is also further complicated by the fact that Ai isn't just performing a public persona, she's also masking - Ai is canonically neurodivergent, with the terminology used specifically referring to developmental disorders such as autism which seems to be how Akasaka intends her to be read. The conclusion of her chapter in Spica - itself at least partially about the difficulty of navigating neurotypical society as a neurodivergent person - is about Ai learning to mask and her recognizing that while it requires some effort, performing this version of herself allows her to navigate, socially speaking, without facing anywhere near as much hostility. This speaks to what's at the core of the 'Ai of B-Komachi' performance - all Ai is really doing is performing the most socially acceptable version of herself in the hopes that other people will respond by being kind to her.

But that isn't really something Ai wants. This is where Akane's observation of Ai's 'secrecy with a desire for exposure' comes from - or, to phrase it another way, Ai's warring terror of and desire for understanding and vulnerability. Ai believes (and quite frankly, has been taught) that people will react to her unvarnished self with revulsion, rejection and sometimes even violence. This is why the 'Ai of B-Komachi' mask is necessary. But the kindness and warmth she receives as a result is not only conditional on her continuing to play that role but it's emotionally unfulfilling for her because it's plastic and shallow. It's reliant on Ai endlessly contorting herself into the shapes other people want her to make without ever being recognized as a fellow human being. This is why, as she expresses in 45510, that she wants there to be people who actually will recognize her as she is, a flawed, impure and cowardly person, and to understand and accept her all the same. We can see this in multiple times across the text, where Ai is surprisingly quick to open up and start spilling her guts out to people who seem as if they have the potential to accept her - or at least who treat her kindly enough to give her hope. She's simply that lonely and that desperate to connect with other people.

In that sense, Ai's desire to sincerely say "I love you" and know she's speaking the truth can be understood as a microcosm of her more broad wish to be able to express herself sincerely and authentically and be understood by the people around her. It is a wish, specifically, to be able to speak of her deepest and most intimate feelings, to know that she is saying them sincerely and with truth and for the person she is expressing these feelings to to accept her, even if they can't fully understand her. She wants to 'unmask' in a very real way - trusting someone enough to, as Ai herself puts it, let them see the dirty, ugly parts of herself that she otherwise has to hide for her own safety with the knowledge that they will not reject her.

So because of… ^ ALL THAT ^, when Ai is relatively secure in her relationship with someone, she's actually surprisingly frank with them. Her relationship with Miyako in ep/vol1 is a good example of this - they aren't necessarily close but Miyako is someone who is both in on the secret of Ai's motherhood and somebody who already knows how the sausage gets made in terms of the 'illusion' of Ai's public persona. As such, Ai doesn't necessarily have anything to lose by opening up to Miyako and while there's still plenty of times that she conceals the proper depths of her thoughts and feelings, she also clearly feels comfortable enough just straightforwardly expressing dismay and frustration and her insecurities to Miyako and asking her advice. Or even purposely getting on Miyako's nerves purely for the purposes of being a little gremlin, just like she does with Ichigo.

So to sum all this up, Ai is already characterized as someone who very much wants to be authentic in her relationships with other people, is dishonest not out of a desire to straightforwardly deceive others but because she has been taught that she will face active rejection and hostility if she doesn't put on a mask and who demonstrates the willingness and ability to unmask and be pretty straightforwardly honest in the context of relationships where she feels any sense of security or warmth. Put all that together and you can already see the seeds of why Ai would have not wanted to lie to Hikaru.

What further complicates this, though, is that this was not just any old relationship that Ai felt secure in but one in which disclosure and honesty were - at least hypothetically - the foundation on which it stood. When describing their relationship in 153, Hikaru says of it that "Ai accepted me and loved me" and that "We were the same. We understood each other." and frames 'supporting each other' as one of the cores of their togetherness. As established, 'understanding' and 'love' for Ai are being able to unmask and be honest, to stop telling lies and cease putting on a performance and Ai didn't stop wanting to do any of that even once they broke up.

Because even once they were no longer together, I do get the impression that Ai wanted him to be in the twins' lives. She was the one who reached out to him to come meet them in The Doomed Phonecall but it's also worth considering that Ai is the only person who could have given Hikaru the address for the hospital and her due date - and with the way Hikaru talks about that night, I think it's implicit that she contacted him and invited him to the birth. And as Ai herself says in the DVD, she wanted to have a family with him and for them to properly carry each others' burdens. Their relationship didn't end out of a lack of love, but because Ai recognized that she simply did not have the capacity to be the mom to a baby and - lbr - mom to her boyfriend, too.

Also something I think shouldn't go unsaid - if some of Ai's decisions regarding her pregnancy seem illogical and erratic, they almost certainly were! She was a teenage girl suddenly and unexpectedly pregnant which would be bad enough without her also being in a social role that requires her to perform virginal purity day in, day out. She was almost certainly not making clearminded or logical decisions because she was simply emotionally not capable of doing so in the situation she was in.

[herecirmsims]

Questions For Storytellers

I have (I think) finally caught up on my list of poses to make, so I wanted to do something a little fun (for me, not for anyone else LMAO) and entirely self-indulgent. I read stories and tell my own over on Instagram, but of course it's harder to post long-form text like this over there.

Special thanks to @freezerbnuuy as I'm copying their post. ❤️

What’s the last screenshot you’ve taken for your story?

This is from the middle of my last post, but it's the last screenshot I took because I went back and added this scene in after finally caving and making my own stupid poses for it hahah.

2. Describe your story in three words or less: Needlessly long tbh

3. Describe (insert character here) in three words or less: Uhhh I'll pick Saxen since he's my MC... wet cat energy (which I think is something @nefaricussims said actually??). Or "90s cocaine chic" as @southernsimmin so beautifully described him. 🤣

4. How did you choose the name of your story? It's called The Cottage because it's... based in and around a cottage. 🥲 I have a very imaginative mind!! 🤣 But also, the cottage plays an important role throughout the whole story and especially in the upcoming finale.

5. How do you choose your characters’ names? My Sim story is based on a novel I never had the confidence to finish - in that version, Sax is an ælf based on Anglo-Saxon belief. I made him a vampire in Sims because that was the only pack I owned at the time, besides base game, and for gameplay purposes I thought vamp put him close to how I imagined him. I now realise I could have easily used CC and my own damn imagination to make him an ælf but I didn't know much about CC at the time, either. 🤣 Because of this, the original story leant into fae lore and the stuff about never revealing your true name. Saxen isn't his real name anyway, but for an added layer it also isn't spelt how you might imagine if you heard it spoken. The same for Thom and Jac who are also characters who came over from the 'original'.

6. How long have you been working on your story for? A little over three years! I have learned soooo much in that time.

7. Whats the biggest risk you’ve taken with your story? Did it pay off? I dunno that I've taken any risks, other than putting it out there in the first place.

8. What about your story are you proud of? I think the fact it exists at all. I've been writing stories since I was a kid, but at some point I lost confidence in myself and have never finished anything/wanted to share it with people because I end up overthinking and deleting it. So I am proud of myself for having maintained a continuous story for three years, and for having other people read it. I think because there was no pressure with a Sims story - with a novel I kept thinking, this has to be perfect and polished so that I can publish it someday. With a Sims story, I'm free to just write the silly tropes I enjoy and allow myself to suck and learn and get better at it.

9. What about your story are you looking to improve on? I read a fantastic article about ma - including pauses in your visual storytelling, space for the characters to sit and breath and reflect. It's ma that makes Ghibli movies so wonderfully distinctive. Being able to make my own poses means that I can show a character's expression or body language in response to a situation, without the need for overlaying text. I'm trying really hard to move away from the "talking heads" style that reads more like a script, and letting the visuals tell the story for me instead. I'm not very good at it because I enjoy my blah blah, but it's fun to try!!

10. Is your story fully planned or are you still working things out? Is there a definitive end? I'm approaching the end of it now, which has been planned for the last three years, so yes - I know pretty much everything that's going to happen. Sometimes the characters still throw a little surprise for me though.

11. Why have you decided to tell this story? Are there any messages or meanings within it? When I got the Sims almost 4 years ago, I had absolutely no idea that there was a) a whole community around it or b) that people used it for storytelling. I'd already made Sax, Thom, and Jac in the game, because I'd wanted to see them come to life during gameplay. Then I discovered poses and started sharing random staged screenshots on Instagram, and became friends with the exceptionally talented TheSimmerKay (now making machinimas!) who showed interest in my silly little characters and suggested that I try telling a story too. I owe her a lot!! As for messages and meaning... I'm very interested in what makes people do the things they do, and how the hero of a story often depends on whose POV we're hearing the story from. There's a fine line between hero and villain sometimes, and a hero acting out of love can cross from protectiveness into control.

12. Do you actually play the game or do you just use it as a storytelling medium? Yep - I have a designated story save, which is the one I take all my screenshots in and which never has gameplay. Then I have a Happy Ever After save for Sax and Fen and another save for for my Globetrotter Challenge Sim, both of which are gameplay only. I think it's important to have that outlet; I can work on my story, make poses, or just play the game, depending on what I fancy.

13. From basic planning to a finished post, how long does that take you? 2-3 evenings. I tend to get everything laid out and text added, then let it sit for a day because I inevitably think of a way to do something better if I give it chance to breath. 🤣

14. Do you have any regrets about your story so far? If you could go back in time, how would you fix these? Not regrets, really, but there are some threads that I put in - fully intending to complete them later in the story - but never did, due to them just not fitting with the story or wanting to try and bring things to an end sooner. But similarly, there are times when I was going to put in a little hint or foreshadowing in and didn't, and then later in my story have wished I had! The tricky part of serialised storytelling is you have to just live with what you have (or don't have), you can't go back and remove or add scenes like you would with a drafted novel.

15. What have been the highlights of creating your story? I've met so many incredible people due to it, oh my goodness. Truly extraordinary Simmers who've shared their time and knowledge with me. We have a little mutual reading group on Insta where we all read and geek out over each other's stories and it's just wonderful. I was honestly shocked when i went to other platforms and realised how much drama there can be in the Sims community. 🤣

16. What about the process do you enjoy? Not that I don't enjoy the process... but I mostly love it when it's finished and I can share it, hahaha.

17. What about the process do you hate? I don't hate any of it... it's a hobby and I do it because I enjoy it. That being said, it does fuck me off when I have multiple Sims in a scene, everyone is in place and has poses queued, and then MCCC Dresser FREEZES MY GAME NOOOOOOOO WHY

18. Choose a song that reminds you of your story:

This is the unofficial theme... specifically this version in Old English, which is Saxen's first language. "It's our destiny then to find love again / Where we failed once before now we'll win"

19. Choose a song that reminds you of (insert character here):

Another one for Sax I guess because he's special. 😌🤣 "But you, a cinder of the fire that's yet to come / Will you just sit and mourn this fragile thing that you've become / Or instead will you consume the very things you can't outrun / Until you finally see all of the strength that you draw from?"

20. Choose your favourite shot from your story so far: Hmmm I think this one, which was me being lazy and reusing a screenshot from an older scene during a flashback-style narration. 🤣 I was trying to achieve something else with the editing but did this by accident and liked it.

21. Choose your least favourite shot so far: Too many to pick from LMAO

22. Choose a favourite character from your story so far: Sax, obviously, he's my lil chew toy/punching bag. But then there's also Idris, for whom I only wish the best. She's going through some trouble right now and I don't enjoy it. It's much more fun to bully Sax.

23. Choose your least favourite character so far: I don't have one! Although Vlad makes me deeply uncomfortable tbh. I find him to be a really creepy villain, and unlike any of my other villains, he's not in any way misrepresented or redeemable. I'm using a makeover version of him by WistfulCastle (I would link, but I don't think he's available anymore?)!

24. Are there any characters who remind you of yourself? No... well. Whenever baby El randomly info-dumps on a niche subject, that's mostly me taking advantage of a captive audience to tell them about karkadanns or medieval torture items or dead bodies on Everest. 🥲

25. What inspirations have you drawn on for your story? I honestly don't know - I can't name anything that I've consciously drawn on, though I know for sure I must have. Funnily enough people have told me things like "oh that's like in Vampire Diaries" or "that's like that part in the Harry Potter films" and I haven't watched either of those, so I think what's happening is we're all drawing from the same well of folklore and mythology and trope. There is occasional story drama about being copied and the thing is... unpopular opinion alert... many of us aren't as unique as we think we are. 😅 What we are unique at is taking a trope and telling it in our own distinctive way. No one else can tell your story quite like you can.

26. Have other sim stories inspired you? I have soooo many talented friends who inspire me to do better when it comes to visuals and storytelling!! @callmedomino is the queen of silent storytelling and a huge inspiration on my journey to discover ma. I really love how well she can tell a story with no words.

27. What genres would you describe your story as? I call it rural fantasy lmao

28. If you could reproduce your story in another medium (movie, novel, comic, etc.) what would you choose and why? I mean obviously I'd say movie because HOW COOL would that be?! Especially an animated one!

29. What would your story’s rating be? (G, PG, M etc.) Ummm probably M because there is the occasional spicy scene. Sometimes three a year LMAO.

30. If you were leaving simblr Simsta and had to choose another creator to continue the story for you, who would you ask? Well tbh I've given Sax and Fen to several good friends already; some of them have them in ongoing cameos in their own stories. I wouldn't ask anyone to continue mine, but I like to think that Sax and Fen could live on in my friend's stories and games if anything were to ever happen to me.

31. Drop some random trivia about your story: When I started I only meant to do short, random vignettes about daily life at the cottage. Somehow it snowballed into a three year epic. 🤣

32. Give a light spoiler: "This is who I am. If I was any other way, I would not be myself."

[ray-ray-writings]

My Cinderella AU with Schlatt

Welp... Who would have thought that Schlatt would be the one out of all of the MCYTs to NOT be outed as an abuser....

Anywho, I watched the Cinderella movie with Camila Cabello and instantly wanted to write an AU of my own of Cinderella but I didn't want to put in the work to create my own new characters and establish them and all of that fun stuff. So I did what I do best, toss already established characters into a storyline. What a weird piece of work to post on my blog after several years...

But here you go, 16.3k words of a Cinderella AU with reader as Cinderella and Schlatt as Prince Charming. If you read, I appreciate you. Consider leaving a like, comment, and/or reblog and tell me whatcha liked about it. No pressure tho <3.

Summary: A Cinderella AU in which reader is a baker and Schlatt is a Prince. the two meet in a market square where the reader in turns insults Schlatt to his face without realizing who they're talking to and the story of the relationship that then ensues.

Pairing: JSchlatt x Gender Neutral!Reader (I tried to keep in gender neutral but I may have slipped here and there, if you notice any parts that happens let me know and I'll fix it!

Mostly fluff with a touch of angst

Content Warnings: all warnings that typically come with cinderella: ie dead parents, shitty step family, reader being told she doesn't deserve good things, the word papi... like twice... you'll see. The use of "Jonathon" being Schlatt's "real" first name, Swearing, second person POV, when the text is in italics it's as if it's following Schlatt in third POV, i hope that makes sense, shitty writing at the end because I still haven't figured out how to end stories uwu.

Please let me know if I missed anything.

Once Upon a Time,

You lived with your stepmother and two stepsisters. Your mother died when you were young. She died after being thrown from a horse, hitting her head off the ground, and never waking up. 

Your father had remarried within a year, but had swore to never love again. He married simply because he knew he was sick and didn’t want to die and leave you alone if he were to die when you were a minor. Sure enough, he passed when you were 15. 

One thing your parents had gifted you before their passing is your love for baking. You could bake like nobody’s business. You had tried to get a job at the bakery when you had come of age but the baker didn’t appreciate your helpful tips on what to improve on and what would make his baked goods taste better. So you just bake and hang out in the square, selling to those that know you and know of your business. 

You did your best to spend most of your time out of your home as your stepfamily was not kind to you. They teased and taunted you and made your life hell. You would have left the moment you were of age, but you had nowhere else to go. This was your family’s home, you didn’t make enough money baking on the side to justify moving out. So you were just waiting to meet someone who would sweep you off your feet and carry you away from here. 

It’s not ideal, but that is the way that life is. 

Across the land, Prince Schlatt was born and raised in the castle. He was waited on hand foot, life served to him on a silver platter. But the boy grew to a man with a kind heart, even if it tended to hide behind sarcasm and taunts. His father, King Philza, had done his best to teach Schlatt how to be a great ruler while his mother, Queen Kristen, had done her best to teach him how to be a loving man. 

Schlatt loves his parents, but sometimes wanted to be his own man without his parent’s hovering over his shoulder telling him who to be. To be who he wanted to be, without the weight of the kingdom on his shoulders.

King Philza has been harping on him for rejecting so many marriage proposals, lecturing him on how important it was for him to find a suitable match before his coronation so that everything was in order before it was time for him to take over the throne. 

Schlatt has always given the same response, “I don’t to marry just anyone. I want to marry for love, father, just like you.” 

Philza would roll his eyes but say nothing more on the subject until the next day. Kristen was always proud of the way her son would respond, but never interrupted the two. The supportive smile she always sent Schlatt as he left was incredibly telling though.

One of the only good things about your stepfamily was that they stayed out of the kitchen. Your stepmother learned quickly about how well you could cook and bake from how you always made meals for your father that she never felt the need to cook herself. Instead, she found it easier to boss you around and force you to cook for her and her daughters. 

You found you didn’t mind it though, the kitchen was your happy place. It was one of the only spaces where you knew that you wouldn’t be bothered, that for a moment while you rolled out dough or poured some batter you could pretend like everything in your life was perfect.

You needed more ingredients. For baking and for dinners. You had left the house with the small amount of money that your stepmother had given you and made your way to the market square. In your basket, a number of sweet treats to sell for your pocket cash to your normal customers after you run your errands. 

The sun feels nice on your face. You’re used to heat pressing into the as you stand over a hot stove or an open oven, so the sunlight shining on you makes you feel slightly at home. Comfortable even. Maybe a bit too comfortable and unaware of your surroundings because it’s not too long while you’re lost in thought before you slam into someone. The basket flies out of your hand and tumbles to the ground, several of the treats falling to the ground. 

You let out a gasp as you fall onto your butt on the ground. The man you have bumped into lets out a quiet “oh shit,” before reaching down and picking up some of the treats that have fallen out. 

“Sorry about that,” he murmurs, reaching out a hand for you to take. You carefully take his hand, allowing your eyes to scan the stranger. The first thing that you notice is his eyes. They’re fucking beautiful. The pools of dark chestnut brown bore into yours so deeply it momentarily takes your breath away. You’re able to see the way they fill with concern all the while they flick down and examine you, if you were of more a mind, you would blush. 

The next thing you notice is the mask that covers the lower half of his face. You stop your brows from furrowing at the sight. You continue to observe him. You note the way that his brown hair is pulled back, which is what allowed you to see his eyes so strikingly before. His clothes are a bit on the fancier side of those that come to the market. He’s strong too, you can tell by the way he pulls you up from the ground with no real effort exerted. His hands are on the softer side. He feels familiar but you can’t place where you know him. 

Oh fuck. You’re the prettiest person Schaltt has ever seen. He’s been introduced to countless nobles, never ending royalty, long lines of commoners, but none of them could compare to how absolutely stunning you look right now. And he’s just made a huge ass full of himself by running into you and sending some of your baked goods AND you flying to the ground. At least he was smart enough to wear a mask to hide his face and therefore his identity. He knows his facial hair is incredibly recognizable. Even if he wasn’t presenting as the crowned prince, he better make this right. 

“It’s alright,” you respond once you’ve shaken yourself out of your stupor, reaching for your basket. He quickly hands it back to you. You do a quick inventory and note that about a third of your stock had fallen to the ground. “Great, just great,” you murmur quietly to yourself. 

“Again, I’m so sorry about that… let me replace what you’ve lost. Allow me to walk you to the bakery so you can buy more.” The stranger says, motioning toward the bakery, his eyes never leaving yours. 

The laugh you let out causes the man’s shoulders to deflate, causing you to clear your throat and instantly start explaining. “No, no, sorry. I’m not laughing at you. Rather laughing at the thought of me buying anything from that fucking guy.” 

His brows furrow as he looks at the pastries. “You didn’t get them from the baker? Where did you get them from then?” 

“I made them myself.” You answer simply, giving a small shrug. “The baker didn’t want to hire me and so I bake them at my house and sell them on the square to a few people.” 

His brows hit the top of his forehead. “Oh shit, really? I guess I just made you lose income then, huh? Let me pay for them then.”

“Oh, no really it’s okay. It was an accident. Don’t worry about it.” 

“No really. I insist. Please. It’s the least I can do.” He states before digging into his pockets and pulling out 5 gold pieces and pressing them into your hand. 

You stare at the gold in shock. “Sir, I can’t accept this. I only charge 2 copper for one cookie. This is far too much, please take it back.” 

Schaltt panics. It’s been forever since he’s had an economics class and he isn’t sure how much money is a lot of money to common folk. He realizes 5 gold is probably a bit too much, especially after you tell him of what you usually charge. It’s too late to back out now. 

“Nah,” he answers. “I guess it just means you have to give me the rest that’s in the basket.” 

Without hesitation, you hold the basket out for him to take. He’s surprised by your quick movement but carefully takes the basket from your hands. He grabs the cloth that covers the basket gently and carefully pulls it back, revealing a plethora of baked goods, the sight makes his mouth water. “Woah, these look professionally made.” 

You let out a huff and puff out your chest a bit more. “Well I am a professional. And they would look better, but someone caused the basket to hit the ground.” 

His laugh may be the most beautiful thing you have ever heard. It makes your heart flutter and you have to will the heat to not flood your cheeks. “I apologized for that already,” He teases. 

“Yeah well, it still happened didn’t it,” you shoot back. 

He laughs again, which surprises you. Most people would have called you rude by now and left you to stand here alone. But not this strange stranger. You don’t mind his presence though. “You’re funny…” He trails off

You realize he’s waiting for your name and you supply it to him. He echos it back, stating it slowly as if to savor every syllable, to test how it feels on his tongue and his teeth before he hums. “I’m charmed to meet your acquaintance,” He states, reaching out grabbing your hand, bending at the waist, and pressing the back of your hand to his masked lips. It takes everything in you to will the blood to NOT rush to your cheeks. 

He drops your hand before straightening up. “Now if you don’t mind, I will be trying one of these delectable looking desserts.” 

He reaches into the basket and pulls out a chocolate chocolate-chip cookie. “Oh fuck yes. These are my fucking favorite.” 

You can’t stop the grin and giggle that escapes you.

The stranger turns from you and for a moment your heart falls and your stomach turns as you think that he’s walking away from you. But you’re able to see his hand move up to the lower half of his face and you realize he’s pulling his mask down in order to eat. You quickly look away to give the man his privacy. You may be curious as to what he looks like, but you value respecting his choices above all else. 

Holy fuck it’s one of the tastiest things he’s ever eaten. His eyes close as he groans at the taste that fills his mouth. He’s glad he had the sense to turn around and his face and expression from you. He couldn’t imagine how embarrassing he looks right now. 

You hear him let out a groan of approval and you can only assume that something has hit his tongue. “This is delicious.” Your assumptions are confirmed as his voice comes out muffled from the food in his mouth. 

“Don’t speak with your mouth full,” you chide, looking at the bustling people of the market stalls.

Schlatt chuckles, pulling the mask back up and turning back to face you. He’s stunned for a moment to not meet your eyes. Realizing why you’re angled and looking the way that you are. His own heart skips a beat before he clears his throat. He takes a moment to chew and swallow before softly letting you know you’re good to look. 

You’re slightly disappointed to find the mask still in its place but you understand the want for privacy perhaps more than most. “So it was good then?” You ask. 

He nods enthusiastically. “It was fucking amazing. I can’t wait to get back to the castle and try the rest of them.” He says, realizing a moment too late his slip. 

Your brows hit the top of your forehead, “The castle? Do you live in the castle?” You can’t stop the question that falls from your lips.

“Yeah, I’m a guard. I live in the castle, and I’m a guard. Today’s my day off.” He explains. His words are rushed, but who are you to question a man you just met.

You give a couple nods, “I see,” you state simply, “That makes sense.” 

Internally Schlatt lets out a loud breath of relief that you bought the lie. The castle has been his home his entire life and he wasn’t thinking when he spoke so he’s glad you easily bought his excuse of being a guard.

“It makes sense considering you just handed me 5 gold like it’s not more than I will make in two months and King Philza makes sure that the guards get paid an excellent salary… not that he makes sure the rest of the citizens get paid the same. But that’s neither here nor there.” You huff. 

The stranger’s brows lift. “What do you mean by that?” 

Your face burns as you catch what you just admitted. “Oh nothing.” You rush. “Sorry you probably are more than happy with the decisions the king makes. Not to imply anything. Sorry.” 

“No, no it’s alright. I want to hear it.” 

And want to hear it, he does. No one has the guts to speak so plainly to him when they’re around him. So he wants to hear it. The good, the bad and the ugly. 

You clear your throat and square your shoulders. “Well if you insist. Often it feels like the king, the whole royal family really, doesn’t care about those that do not live in the castle. I can’t get a job because no one can afford to hire anyone because everyone is just barely scraping by. It’s like he can’t see past his own front lawn. Which sucks because everyone talks about what a great guy he is, but sometimes I don’t think he’s a very good king.”

Schlatt hums in acknowledgement. You bring up some really good points. He also sometimes feels like his father forgets he’s supposed to be ruling for the people and isn’t supposed to be ruling his son’s life… speaking of. “Well I’m sure you can’t wait for his son to take over the throne then? Schlatt?” He is instantly startled by the loud laughter that bubbles from your throat.

“Schlatt? That big, petty,  man-baby? Yeah. Sure. I’m excited to see how that big man-baby decides to rule the kingdom. You know, I heard that he grew those mutton chops to make himself more unattractive to potential suitors. I think he didn’t realize how fucking good he looks with them. At least from what I’ve seen from a distance. I think he makes them work, and I’m definitely not the only one in the kingdom that agrees. I think he just needs to bite the bullet and just… I don’t know. Do it.” 

Schlatt once again thanks his past self profusely for the idea of wearing a mask to hide his face because he can feel the way his cheeks heat up to what he is sure is a bright red. You’re not particularly wrong. That was the original thought. To make himself look unkempt and not put together in an attempt to drive away potential suitors but he grew to like how they looked and grew fond of the hair. 

“I don’t think he should just bite the bullet and marry the first person that asks for his hand” he defends, “I think he wants to marry for love. Not for some political alliance. I think that’s admirable.” 

“Oh I agree. My apologies. That’s not what I meant. I meant he needs to bite the bullet and be fucking honest with the kingdom. The news that we get from the castle is that he’s the one that’s been rejected. That he wants to find the perfect alliance. That he wants what’s best for the kingdom. And while I agree that maybe he does, he needs to be fucking honest with us and tell us the truth. That he’s looking for love. Not what would ‘be best for the kingdom.’ We don’t mind that’s what’s happening, it’s the fact we’re being lied to, ya know?”

“Huh, so that’s the news that is coming out of the castle… I’ll have to talk to someone about that.” 

Your breath catches slightly. “Shit. Sorry. I don’t want to get either of us in trouble. Forget me and my words. I know not of what I speak.” 

“No, sweets. You have valid points. They deserve to be heard. I won’t mention your name if you wish. But I will make them hear me. I’m actually rather close with the prince.” He can’t help but internally snicker to himself. Closer than you know. 

The blood drains from your face. “Of course you are. Of course I complain about the prince to someone that has direct connection with him… fuck. Okay. Cool. Good to know. Well… I have to go. I have to get my ingredients still and I must be home before stepmother gets there. It was a pleasure meeting you.” You state quickly before attempting to rush past him. 

You're stopped by his hand grasping your shoulder gently, causing you to turn around to face him. “Will I ever see you again?” 

The way he asks is so soft and gentle. It causes your heart to pound loudly and the breath to pause in your throat. “Maybe,” you breathe out. 

The two of you stare at each other for a moment more before it hits you. “I have a carrier pigeon. I’ll send it with a letter to the castle and we can talk like that. Maybe sometime we can meet again. Maybe on one of your days off.” 

The man’s beautiful brown eyes light up with delight. “That would be amazing. I look forward to hearing from you.” He allows his hand to trail from your shoulder, down your arm, to your hand, and he lifts the hand to his lips before placing a kiss to it. He gives you a soft wink as he drops your hand. You turn away as you blush, willing yourself to calm down. 

“Oh!” You startle, “I forgot to ask your name-“ the words die on your lips to find the spot next to you vacated with the tall stranger nowhere in sight. “Great. Just great… well. I better get going. Those cookies won’t bake themselves.” 

Schlatt has never felt so giddy. He can’t wait to hear from you. He also realizes he never gave you a name, he’ll just have to keep his eye out for a new and unfamiliar carrier pigeon.

 

You debate with yourself when you get home what the proper waiting time is for sending a stranger a letter with the pigeon. Because you wrote one as soon as you got home and it was ready to send within two hours of meeting him. Sending one that quickly may spook him. It could cause him to think you’re weird. 

You decide you’ll wait a couple hours, bake cookies and make dinner and then when your stepmother allows you to retire to your room, that is when you’ll send it. And so that is what you do. You check over the letter a thousand times before you tuck it into the envelope and hand it to your carrier pigeon. “To the castle pigeon, look for a man with brown hair and brown eyes… well that’s specific huh?... I really should have gotten his name. Okay… well… I guess we will half to wing it.” You scribble down something on the envelope and hand it to the pigeon who takes it with its foot and flies off to the castle. 

Schlatt is taking a stroll in the gardens, kicking himself for not asking for a better way to contact you. He hadn’t heard anything from you and at this point he’s worrying he never will. He’s spent most of his time analyzing the conversation over and over again in his head and realized that he probably came off too strong and too weird and he will be lucky to ever see you again. 

He jumps as a pigeon lands on his shoulder,to his head snapping to the side to meet the wide, vacant eye of the bird. It gives a soft coo before shaking and moving its foot, drawing attention to the letter in its grasp. His heart leaps to his throat in hope before he swallows and carefully takes it. 

He grins at the writing on the front of the envelope. “Sir Charmed, lover of chocolate chip cookies.” Instantly all his worries melt away as he plucks the letter from its hiding and he reads the words. Once. Twice. A Hundred times. Schlatt rushes inside to carefully compose his response. 

You don’t go a day without hearing from each other for the next couple of weeks. You exchange letters. You tell him about your life and how you got your love of baking, and your want of leaving the house. He tells you the pressures of his job and how sometimes he just wants to run away from it all and explore the world. You make him promise that if he does, he’ll take you with him. He promises. 

You forget to get his name and at this point you’re too embarrassed to ask him for it, instead electing to call him a bunch of nicknames, mainly being Sir Charming, hoping he never catches on. He never seems to. 

The two of you agree to meet up once more, somewhere a little more quiet than the market square, but still public (because you have to be proper.) You’re sure to wear the cutest outfit you can manage to put together and bake the best batches of cookies you’ve ever baked. 

“Where are you going?” Ted asks with his brow raised, watching Schlatt with his arms crossed as Schlatt sneaks through the castle halls. 

Schlatt freezes and slowly turns. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m not going anywhere.” 

“Sureeeee,” Ted draws, not convinced at all. “You’re just creeping through the halls in one of your best outfits going… nowhere.” 

Schlatt sighs, not being able to hide from his best friend. “I’m going to meet them.” 

Ted raises an eyebrow. “Them? The one you’ve been writing all those letters to? Are you sure that’s a good idea” 

“I know that it is. Please. Cover for me?”

Ted sighs but can’t deny Schlatt has been happier in the past couple weeks than he has been for the past couple months. “Okay fine. But you’d better bring me back one of those sugar cookies.” 

Schlatt gives Ted a toothy grin. “We’ll see.” 

You give him a shy smile as he appears. “Hey, you,” you greet standing, wiping your hands on your pants. 

“Hey sweets,” he greets back, his voice muffled through the mask still adorned on his face. You didn’t mind too much. He explained that it made him more comfortable, especially because in his work he has to wear something to cover his face under the helmet, it’s just easier for him to wear it. As much as you want to see his entire face, you were willing to respect his choices. 

“How are you?” 

“Can’t complain, especially now that I get to see your beauty standing before me.” 

You can’t stop the blush that floods your cheeks. “Oh hush. Here. I’ve made you something special.” You tell him, turning and grabbing the special baked good that you made him. “It’s a chocolate chocolate-chip brookie. Or a double chocolate chip cookie baked inside a brownie. I remember you said that you loved brownies and cookies and sometimes can’t choose which to have so I made you both… well two in one.” 

You raise your hand with one of the treats toward him, facing the basket still, still trying to will down the blush on your cheeks.

“Well, don’t mind if I do,” you have to hold in the jump as you feel his soft breath against your hand. You will yourself to stay in place as his lips brush against your outstretched fingers as he gently takes a bite out of the treat in your hand. A loud groan escapes him, similar to the one you heard the day the two of you met. “Okay, I take back everything I’ve said… This is the best thing I’ve ever eaten.” 

All of your hard work is ruined as the blood rushes back to your cheeks into a blush. “What have I told you about talking with your mouth full?” You deflect 

The treat is removed from your hand, his fingers brushing against your palm. “My apologies, your highness.” His words are even more mumbled, telling you he shoved the brookie all the way into his mouth. 

You scoff. “Careful now, you’ll get me hung for treason with that nickname.”

His laugh garbled out around the baked good. “Surely the king isn’t that cruel.” His hand rests on your shoulder and turns you to face him, the mask sitting on his face once again. 

You laugh back and shrug, “I don’t know. I’ve never met the man.” 

“Well I have. So I guess you’ll just have to take my word for it.” 

“Is that so?... I guess I’ll just have to trust you then.” 

You stare into his brilliant and beautiful eyes for a while longer before he moves, clearing his throat and gesturing forward, “Shall we then?” 

“I am getting sick of these games you’re playing, Jonathan.” King Philza booms loudly. 

Schlatt rolls his eyes and crosses his arms in front of his chest. “I’m not playing games with you father, I’ve told you. I want to marry for-”

“For love. I understand. But how can you marry for love when you push away every single option I give you. You haven’t given yourself a chance to fall in love with anyone I have brought before you and I am growing tired of it. If you do not pick someone within the next month, I will be choosing someone for you. End of story. Am I understood?”

Schlatt internally panics. He knew this day was coming. He knew he was pushing his father too far. He had held out for too long. His stomach drops… There’s only one person he could see himself marrying at this point… 

Assuming he had been understood, Philza turns to walk out the door. “Let’s throw a ball,” the words tumble from Schlatt’s lips. 

Phil turns back around with an eyebrow raised. “A ball?”

“You want me to marry quickly. I want to marry for love. So what better way than to throw a ball, invite everyone in the kingdom, emphasizing the invitations for single people, and then I’ll be able to talk and dance with people all night. And I swear to you, if we throw this ball I will find a betrothed by the end of the month.”

Phil is silent for a while. Tossing the words over in his head for a moment before giving a single nod. “So be it.” He then turns and exits the room. 

Schlatt lets out a harsh breath. Well that was easier than expected. Now to convince you to come to a ball. 

It takes less convincing than one might think. 

You get a letter from your Sir Charming, who tells you there will be a ball and that he wants you to come as his guest. He tells you that you’d be able to bring some of your baked goods to give out to nobles to promote your baking, plus you’d be able to see him. You hate to admit how much the latter of the two sold you on the idea. You sent back your acceptance of the invitation. 

The money you’ve gotten from selling your baked goods is supposed to go to a moving out fund, but you can’t help but take out a couple of the gold pieces that he gave you in the first meeting, finding it only fitting that his money buys your outfit for the ball

It’s a really pretty outfit, it fits you well enough, you had to buy it a size larger because they didn’t have your size and you didn’t have enough money to get it tailored. But it didn’t matter that much to you. Your mystery man had seen you in grubbier garment, anything would be a step up from what you met him in. 

The news of the ball gets announced to the entire kingdom, and your stepmother is perhaps more excited than you are. She thinks at least one of her daughters will win the heart of the prince. When you voice your want to go, she forbids you. You tell her that you don’t even want to be in the presence of the prince, you just want to see the snack table, she sneers at you but says nothing further, making you believe that perhaps she will allow you to go. 

You find yourself in your kitchen, finishing up some of the baked goods you were to take to the ball tonight. The loud clacking of your stepmother’s heels echo on the tile, the door swings open, your stepmother enters in a rage. Your heart stops as you look up from your desserts and see your outfit clutched in her hands. 

“What is this?” She hisses, waving the fabric at you as she gets closer. 

“My outfit for the ball,” you answer as calmly as you can, speaking around the lump in your throat. 

“Oh!” She lets out in mock surprise, “Is it now? I thought you said you were not going to be trying to win the attention of the prince.” 

You furrow your brow and remain standing straight with your shoulders squared back, “I am not. I have no intention of wooing the prince, stepmother.” 

“Then why have you chosen to wear such an attention seeking outfit? Surely you were planning on going behind my and my daughter’s back. I should have known you were going to do something like this.”

“Please, stepmother. You must believe me. I have no--” 

“I do not believe you, you little wench. You’ve always have looked for ways out of this house, to one up me and my daughters. I will stand for this no more.” 

You want so badly to lash out, to rip the outfit from her hands, go running from the room, and get dressed. But you can’t move. You can barely breathe. You can feel your heart pounding in your chest, your stomach turning, and your body locking up. You can only watch as your stepmother glides over to the stove. Her eyes glide over the stove top before smirking. She dunks the outfit into the melted chocolate you were going to use to cover some of the treats. 

To make matters worse, part of the cloth flops over the edge of the pan and lands directly on the open flame that was on to melt the chocolate. Your stepmother lets out a triumphant laugh as the outfit catches fire, turning around and leaving the kitchen.

The sound of the door closing behind her causes you to leap into action finally. You rip the outfit out of the pot and toss it in the sink, dousing it with water, extinguishing the flame. The chocolate clings to the fabric, refusing to let go easily as you put your entire being into scrubbing the outfit. 

Sobs begin falling from your lips as you realize, even if you get all of the chocolate out of this outfit, it will never dry in time for the ball. Plus. you don’t have fabric to sew up the part where the flame ate part of it. Your outfit is ruined. Your plans are ruined. The night is ruined. 

You barely register your stepmother calling for your stepsisters, telling them it was time to go, and the door opening and closing behind them. The world seems to spin around you, sinking you to your knees as you sob loudly, clutching the soaking web fabric to your chest. 

The cool tile welcomes you, the warmth of the oven soothes you, and the wetness of the outfit grounds you. The sobs turn into soft hiccups then to silent sniffles as you stare in front of you. Mentally you begin to write your apology letter to Sir Charming about your abscess from the ball. How you were going to go, you really were, you just didn’t have anything suitable to wear. 

He’ll probably ask you why you didn’t plan better. He’ll probably be angry. He may not want to speak to you again. You’ll just have to deal with it and beg for forgiveness. And if he decides not to forgive you…. You’ll just have to live with it. 

A soft knock echoes from the front door. You’re so in your own head, you’re not sure it’s a real sound, but then it comes again, a little louder this time. You muse it may be one of your steps who forgot something and didn’t think to bring a key. 

In a zombie-like fashion, you let the fabric drop from your hands before standing up slowly. It almost feels as if you’re floating as you move to the front door. Your hand somehow finds the doorknob, unlocking it, before turning it and opening it up. 

You startle slightly at the sight in front of you. A frail looking older man stands before you. He has grey hair, a hunchback, and a shawl that comes up and covers the top of his head and shoulders. “Oh… hello. Can I help you?” You ask softly, looking out past him wondering where he came from. Your house wasn’t necessarily in the middle of nowhere, but you definitely had your privacy from neighbors. You lived on the edge of the kingdom, no one ever really comes out here. 

“Hello there, deary.” His voice is kind and his lips turn upwards slightly. “I am sorry to bother you at this time of night, but I was just on my way home and my stomach let out an awful grumble and I was just wondering if you could spare a bite to eat? I won’t take much, I promise, just something to get me home.”

You don’t know what made you trust this stranger, maybe it was just your deep need to help those around you, maybe you were still in shock from what your stepmother had done minutes… an hour? You’re not sure. But you give him a smile. “Oh yes, of course. Please come in sir. Lucky for you, I was just making something sweet. So you can snack on that while I make you dinner.” 

You move out of the way and let the man enter your house. 

“Oh, please deary, no need to make me a whole meal.” 

“Nonsense,” you answer, guiding him into the kitchen, “I want to make sure you’re well fed for your journey home.” You hand him some of the cookies from the counter. “Here, make yourself at home.”

The man takes the cookie from your hands gently before sitting himself down at the counter. “You are far too kind… I wasn’t even sure anyone would be home. I heard the royal family is throwing a ball, and everyone is invited.” 

You can’t help the laugh that falls from your lips as you begin making dinner for this kind man. “Yes, well, my stepmother believed me unworthy to attend… went as far as to destroy my outfit…” you take a moment to look down at the outfit, still soaking at your feet. You snap yourself out of the stupor, “Sorry. Not to dump.” 

The man hums as he takes a bite of the cookie. “I see…. Oh this is delicious. You should run a bakery.” He exclaims. 

A shy smile plays on your lips as you plate his food. “That’s the goal…One day. Thank you… Anyway, dinner is served!” You place the plate in front of him, your smile growing. 

The man instantly digs in and hums in delight at the taste. The two of you converse as he eats, he talks about his life and you give him more insight into yours. Telling him of how you got your love of baking and your hopes of owning a bakery, but not working for the baker in the village. 

Soon, he’s down to his last bite of dinner. He pops it in his mouth before leaning back into his chair. “Wow, that hit the spot. Thank you again deary, for dinner and the delightful conversation…” 

You give him a smile, “Of course, it’s my pleasure… I just realized I never got your name.” 

“You can call me Quackity…AKA” 

Suddenly golden light surrounds the man in front of you, forcing a gasp out of your lips. “What’s going on?” You exclaim as the light draws closer to the man, glowing brighter. 

Through squinted eyes, you watch the wrinkles fall from the man’s face. It’s as if an ink pot spills from the shawl the rests on his head, his hair turning black. The fabric morphs into a dark grey beanie that remains covering the top part of his hair. His spine straightens, his outfit morphing into a sharp tuxedo with golden wings protruding from his back. His piercing eyes, suddenly getting covered by black sunglasses. 

The golden motes of light fade from existence, the old man no longer in front of you, a young man now sitting before you. 

“Your fairy godmother…father…papi? Ah who knows.” 

You stare wide-eyed, mouth agape at the man that now sits in front of you. “What the fuck?” You whisper. “Who are you?”

The young man tilts his head and gives a playful grin. “I just told you, silly. I’m your fairy god-Papi. You can also call me Quackity. But I’ve watched over you, and I had to make sure you were still a good person. We don’t have time for the full backstory, we have a ball to get you too, dulces.” 

You stare at him, your mouth moving like a fish out of water. “What are you talking about? I can’t go to the ball, my outfit is ruined, I don’t have a way to get there. I can’t… Don’t you have to get home?” 

Quackity laughs causing you to pout to play on your lips. Quackity notices, “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to laugh, you’re just too sweet. I know you think we just met, but you have to trust me. You’ve already let me in your home, you may as well trust me to do this as well.” 

You puff up your cheeks with air as you toss your thoughts back and forth, debating his words. Maybe you’re asleep. Maybe you crashed and fell asleep on the kitchen floor and this is all just a dream. At this point, that would make the most sense. You pinch the skin on your thigh, flinching but looking around. When nothing around you changes, you’re forced to take this situation as reality. Incredibly weird, fucked up reality. 

You meet Quackity’s bright eyes again, his kind smile never fading. “Okay.” You speak softly, letting your shoulders relax. “I trust you.” 

His grin grows bigger and he claps his hands once in delight, holding them in front of his chest for a brief moment, looking you over excitedly. “I knew I chose you for a reason. Let’s get this done then, shall we?” 

Quackity claps twice and the golden light fills your vision again, this time though, they’re surrounding you. Your clothes shift and change, the fabric changes and gets tighter to your body. Your hair moves around on its own, which feels weird at first, but then you realize that it feels like someone is doing your hair and you think back to your mother and father doing your hair when you were little. You feel the flour and the sugar fall from your face and your fingertips as the light cleans you up. 

Your gaze moves down to your feet and your breath catches at the shoes you now adorn. They’re breathtaking, literally apparently. They’re made of glass, the majority of the shoe being see through, but a gorgeous pattern of color, as if spun sugar swirled throughout. They’re insanely comfortable too. You’d think that shoes made of glass would be uncomfortable, but they’re not. They’re perhaps the most comfortable shoes you’ve ever worn. 

Soon, the light fades and you turn to find Quackity holding a mirror. The outfit is beautiful and truly made for a ball. It’s actually your size and fits you well in all of the right places. Your hair is beautiful as well, pulled back to show your face, but is done up in an intricate way. Your face, as you felt, is clear of the evidence of your baking. 

“I look good,” you whisper, turning slightly, examining yourself from different angles. 

“I know, I did well, didn’t I?” Quackity boasts, the feathers of his wings ruffling at the slight praise. 

You look from the mirror to catch his gaze. “You did. But I still don’t have a way there, I don’t want to walk.” 

Quackity shakes their head. “Oh yee of little faith. Grab those boxes of treats and follow me.” 

You whip around and find all of the baked goods you were working on packed neatly in your boxes. The magic must have moved them while you were getting dolled up. You blinked away the happy tears and scooped up the boxes and scurried out the door after Quackity. 

You stand back and watch as Quackity waves his hands around, the golden magic illuminating the dark night. It swirls around a pumpkin in your garden you were planning on using for a pie when it got ripe, making it grow larger and larger, changing from a thick orange pumpkin skin to a brilliant white carriage with golden details. 

The sheep that wanders your small farm gets surrounded by the light and is transformed into a beautiful woman who bends at the waist in front of you. “My lady,” she speaks. You curtsy back at her, giggling. You can’t believe this is real. 

Two field mice get transformed into a carriage driver and their assistant. Your carrier pigeon you’ve been using gets enlarged into a giant pigeon which the driver and assistant immediately move to get the pigeon hooked up to the carriage. Quackity moves over to stand by you, grinning as the golden light fades away as everything comes to order. “Ta da!” He says, holding his hands out and wiggling his fingers towards to new carriage and humans there to take you to the ball.

You can’t stop yourself from turning to him and throwing your arms around him, pulling him closely to you. He lets out a soft “oof” but wraps his arms around you, squeezing you tightly. “Thank you so much… fairy god….papi.” 

Quackity barks out a laugh but squeezes you tighter. “Of course, dulces. Now, this magic doesn’t come without a downside.” He says, pulling away and looking you in the eye. “Nothing too bad, but the magic will fade at midnight. The carriage will go back to a pumpkin, the footman back to mice and your sheep lady to a sheep. Your outfit will fade. It will all end at midnight. So, go, have fun at the ball, eat, drink, make friends, do it all. But when that clock strikes midnight, run like hell little lady.” 

You give him a short nod. “I understand… thank you. Will I ever see you again?” 

Quackity smiles softly, his hand moving to cup your cheek. “I’ll never be far away from you, dulces.” 

You know that means probably not, buy you decide to ignore it as you give him another hug. 

He hugs you back before  pulling away again. “Enough sap, you have a ball to go to. Go on! Get!” He pushes you toward the open door of the carriage. You giggle, gather the boxes of baked goods you had set down, and move to the carriage. 

Puffy, the lady in waiting, climbs in the carriage after you, closing the door behind her, before hitting the top of the carriage, causing the driver to give a shout and the carriage rocks forward. 

You glance out the window toward the house and find Quackity watching the carriage leave, his hands pressed to his chest. You bring your hand up and give a small wave. Quackity raises his hand and waves after you, until you cannot see him any longer. 

Schlatt was going a little crazy. It was as if the entire kingdom had shown up. Everyone was here. Everyone but you. You had promised that you would come in the letter that you sent a week ago, but maybe you had changed your mind. He hopes you hadn’t though. Afterall, he swore to his father he would be betrothed by the end of this night. 

He had met countless single village people, all trying to bat their eyes hard enough to make him take a second glance, but none of them were you. He found himself slumping down in his throne, brushing off the glare his father threw over his shoulder. Pretending not to hear the, “This is what you wanted. At least act like you want to be here.” He hissed over. Schlatt just rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. 

It becomes apparent he has met everyone here tonight and still no sign of you. Until there’s a large commotion by the snack table. His gaze shoots over and his heart picks up at the sight. It’s you. You look so different from the other times he’s seen you, but it is you. He’s on his feet in an instant and rushing over. 

You arrive later than everyone else at the ball, but honestly you’re totally okay with that. Less attention to yourself. You give a small bow to your servants for the evening, giving your carrier pigeon a few scritches before ducking into the castle. You hope you’ll be able to find your Sir Charming quickly so you can stick to him for the entire night. You decide you’ll first hit up the snack table to set up your baked goods and sign for the other nobles to taste just like Sir Charming said to do. 

You find the table is already packed with baked goods from the bakery. You take it upon yourself to begin moving some of the treats over to make room for your treats. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” A familiar voice booms from behind you. 

You roll your eyes at the voice but turn around and face the baker, Mr. Lou Hamani. “I was invited to display my baked goods at this ball. So I’m simply making room.” You answer before turning back around and putting more desserts out. 

Lou moves to stand beside you at the table and begins to grab at your treats. “I think not you disrespectful child. I am being paid by the king’s advisor himself for these desserts. I will not have you screwing over my chance to impress the nobles that are here today at this ball. You will pack up and leave at once.” 

“I will do no such thing, I was invited to set up shop here by a castle staff member and I intend to do so.” You huff. Lou pays your words no mind and continues to gather up the things you’ve baked in his arms. “Hey, put those down. Give those back.” If he hears you he pretends like he doesn’t and cotiunes what he’s doing. It’s then you begin to try and grab your treats out of his hands. 

The baker snaps at you, “get your hands off of me.” 

“Give me my things back!” 

You’re so invested in what is going on in front of you that you don’t realize that the entire ballroom’s eyes are on you. 

In the middle of your squabble, someone loudly clears their throat. You then realize you’re in public and everyone can see you. You decide to still not care and face it with confidence. The baker looks over his shoulder and seems to pale at the sight. Your brow slightly furrows and you turn around. 

Deep pools of chestnut brown lock with yours and they’re just as fucking beautiful as the day you first met them. They fill you with a sense of calm, but at the same time nerves as butterflies fill your stomach. You think you will never tire of looking him in the eyes. 

You find your eyes drifting down and you feel your stomach lurch and your heart stop. You’re seeing his face uncovered for the first time. He’s so fucking handsome… 

So fucking handsome with those god fucking damn mutton chops. 

“Your highness,” you hear the baker greet shakily from behind you. 

Your thoughts are confirmed. The man you met that day in the market, the one you’ve been sending letters to, the one you met once more, the one you’ve been slowly developing feelings for. Is Prince fucking Schlatt himself. Of fucking course he never told you his name. Of fucking course he never showed his face. It’s been him this whole time. 

Oh fuck. 

You’ve shit talked about him to his fucking face. 

You’re fucked. 

Gods. You look beautiful. He didn’t know anyone could ever look this good. He’s so fucking happy you came. 

His eyes meet yours and he can tell you’re in shock. He was a bit surprised you figured it out, that your Sir Charming was actually the prince. The other part of him feels fuzzy that you can recognize him just from his eyes. He can only hope that you forgive him for lying to you. 

“Mr. Hamani,” He greets easily, his eyes not leaving yours. He’s trying to decipher what it is you’re thinking, but your shocked expression masks any else you may be thinking. “Would you kindly unhand my favorite baked goods from my favorite baker? You’ll have to forgive me sir, while I find your treats delicious, I find theirs simply irresistible. I invited them and told them to set up shop here. I apologize that no one informed you in advance.” 

The baker stutters but gives a quick bow. “Of course, your highness. No need to apologize to me. I was simply surprised at their appearance is all. They have always been rather disruptive and I wanted to ensure it wasn’t something of that sort happening again… I apologize, your highness.” 

Schlatt gives a simple wave of his hand. “Forgiven.” He speaks. 

The baker dumps the treats from his hands back on \to the table and scurries away. Schlatt strides over and snatches up a double chocolate chip cookie and takes a bite, moaning at the taste, before turning to face you. He gives a shy smile. 

“Hello.” 

“Hello,” he states softly as if nerves have invaded his entire stomach. As if he has a right to be nervous after the shit he let you get away with. 

“Hello,” You answer tensely. 

The two of you stand there, staring at each other for a moment. You haven’t even noticed that the entire ballroom is still at a standstill, staring. 

You’re the first to move. You charge forward at him, your finger rising in the air, pointing directly at him. “You. I can’t believe that you-” 

Prince Schlatt grabs your hand out of the air, bows, and brings the back of your hand up to his lips. The feeling of his soft lips on your hand sets the flesh there ablaze. You feel your face flush with searing heat along with the heat that floods your entire body. He mutters your name softly, lips still pressed to your hand, sending butterflies soaring in your stomach. 

“Prince Schlatt.” You utter, curtsying slightly. 

He stands back up to his full height and gives you a soft, lopsided grin. “May I have this dance?” 

All of the heated words you wanted to sling his way die on your tongue. You can’t help but wonder if this is all a prank. Like if you accept, he is going to laugh in your face and you’re going to be tossed in the dungeon. 

But then you meet his eyes. 

Those damn fucking eyes. 

They tell you so much, you’re surprised they didn’t tell you who you had been speaking to this entire time. 

They tell you to trust him. That he truly means what he is saying. That he wants nothing more than for you to say yes, because he wants to dance with you. Truly, deeply, wants to dance with you.

Hope. 

His eyes fill with hope. 

And how can you say no to hope. 

“You may.” 

Schlatt is probably the happiest he’s ever been when you accept his offer to dance. His grin widens significantly before he leads you to the middle of the ballroom. He bows to you and you curtsy. The band strikes up a beautiful waltz song and the two of you begin to dance. 

He notices that you’re working hard to follow his moves. It dawns on him that you are indeed a commoner and so you don’t have the dance training drilled into you as he has. He slows his pace down and smiles brightly as your shoulders sag in relief as you catch up with him. 

“Sorry,” you mumble for a third time as you step on his toes once more. 

“Please stop apologizing. I do not mind. Truly…” 

He stares at you beaming, trying to make you see the truth. You seem to only slightly believe him. He clears his throat and pauses for a moment. “Here, step on my feet. I’ll move us around the ballroom.” 

He smiles through you raising your eyebrows as if to ask if he was serious. He nods encouragingly. 

You realize that he’s not going to move again until you comply. So you do. You carefully step both of your feet onto his, praying the glass shoes are as comfortable on top of his feet as they are on yours. If they’re not, he makes no show of it. His smirk grows impossibly wide and begins to move around once more. 

The rest of the room fades away. He can see no others in the ballroom. His gaze is focused on you and you alone. He whispers jokes to you and feels his heart warm when you toss your head back in laughter. 

With you, he’s not the prince. 

He’s just Schlatt. 

He couldn’t be more thankful for you.

You couldn’t help but feel slightly embarrassed as Prince Schlatt dances you across the room. Your father always told you not paying attention to your mother’s dance lessons would come back to bite you. You never thought you’d see the day that would come to fruition. 

But he moved you around with such ease that it made you feel as if you were floating. It didn’t matter you didn’t know how to dance, he was there. He was helping you through. He was there for you. 

Your mind takes that thought and runs with it. 

You think back to you waiting everyday eagerly for his letters to arrive. The way you blossomed under his praise, both of you and your baking. Ever since the moment you met him, he always was there to catch you. You can’t think of a single moment in the past couple months where your mind wasn’t filled with the thoughts of him. 

He has always been there. 

The music ends and the two of you bow to each other. A round of applause startles the two of you out of your bubble. You look around and find several other couples had joined you on the dance floor, but most people had stayed pressed on the sidelines, watching the dances. Those are the ones that were now applauding. Your face flushes once more and you duck your head down as you step off of Prince Schaltt’s feet and away from him. 

If the prince notices you trying to put distance between the two of you, he doesn’t make it known. He instead grabs your hand once more, pressing another kiss to the back of your hand. 

“Come on, I must introduce you.” He states simply before moving towards the front of the room where his family sat. 

Your heart leaps to your throat, eyes widening as the royal family draws nearer and nearer. Somewhere in your brain had registered that if your Sir Charming was the Prince Schlatt, then his father would then be King Philza. But that didn’t actually click until now. 

Until the King, Queen, and other Prince were rising to meet you. 

“Father, Mother… brother,” Schlatt greets with a wide smile giving them a bow. “It is my honor to introduce you to my guest of honor for the evening.” You can barely believe it’s your name that then falls from his lips. 

Through the fog in your head, you thank yourself for remembering to give a deep bow to the royal family of the land. “Your majesties. Thank you for allowing me… everyone into your home. Everything about this ball is beautiful and perfect.” You give yourself a pat on the back for sliding in that compliment. 

“Everything except the pastries from the local baker it seems.” King Philza’s tone is so deep and regal it’s incredibly hard to register the joking tone. 

You swallow hard. “Forgive me, your highness. Mr. Hamani and I have never gotten along. I should not have brought our feud inside your home.” 

King Philza gives a dismissive wave. 

“It’s quite alright, dear.” Queen Kristen speaks up, her tone soft and gentle. “Sometimes men allow their egos to get in the way.” 

You can’t help but giggle along with her and nod along. 

“Dear!” King Philza lets out in a slight aghast tone. 

“Oh do not tell me I am wrong, my love. You should know this better than anyone.” 

The King does not have a response back for that. He instead turns back around and catches your eye. His gaze is so piercing you cannot help but look down at your feet. “We will not keep you any longer. Please, enjoy the ball.” 

“But I haven’t had a chance to talk with them yet!” Prince Tommy whines, stepping forward to stand with his father. 

The King rests a hand on his back and opens his mouth to speak but Prince Schaltt cuts him off. “Nor will you ever. We are off to enjoy the ball now. Farewell.” 

Before anyone in his family can get a word in, Prince Schlatt pulls you away. He beelines to the snack table, the people around it parting to allow him access to the table. Almost all of your baked goods are gone, stuffed in the hands of the attendees, all wanting to see just what made Prince Schlatt deny the local baker. 

Schlatt snaggs two of the double chocolate chip cookies and one of the brookies from the table and continues on his way, still pulling you away. Instead of stopping somewhere in the grand ballroom, he pulls you completely out of the castle and into the royal gardens. 

He stops in front of a bench in front of a fountain. He takes a seat and pats the bench next to him, silently inviting you to sit down. 

You do not sit down.

Instead, you take a couple paces back and forth in front of him, before you turn on your heel to face him. “I cannot fucking believe you!” You finally let out all of your nerves and frustrations into the sentence. 

Prince Schlatt startles slightly, coughing as a crumb of his cookies go down the wrong pipe. He clears his throat and goes to speak up but you don’t give him the chance. 

“You fucking asshole. You let me talk shit about your father… about you to your face the first time we met. Let me talk about your mutton chops. Never stopping to correct me or let me know who you were. You let me call you Sir Charming, never once stopping to tell me your name. How did I let this go this far? You let me write you letters everyday and you wrote me back! You told me so much about you and your life, but didn’t tell me this? This seems pretty fucking big, your highness. Oh my fucking gods. Oh my gods. I can’t fucking believe you. Holy fucking shit. You’re such a fucking asshole.” 

You can’t stop your hand from coming up and slapping his shoulder, pushing him back, not hard enough to push him off but hard enough to prove a point. 

He says nothing for a few moments, letting you breathe through it and calm down, before a grin splits his face. “Yeah. But it was hot. I liked being put in my place during our first meeting. It was interesting to hear your perspective. Someone talking to a complete stranger, not trying to kiss my ass and make me feel good about myself… though with the way you were talking about my chops, maybe you did just a bit of the latter anyway.” 

You let out a frustrated groan as the heat floods your cheeks. “Fuck you.” 

He reaches out and cups your cheek, bringing you down a bit to press a kiss to your forehead. “Yeah, yeah.” 

You take a few more deep breaths before allowing yourself to plop down beside him. You rest your head against his shoulder, forgetting your properness for a moment, taking another deep breath. “I can’t fucking believe you.” You mutter one final time. 

Schlatt turns and presses a kid to the top of your head before resting his head on the top of your head. He lets the silence sit for a while before he clears his throat and speaks again. “I am sorry, by the way.” 

You don’t speak, which he’s partially grateful for, it allows him to process his thoughts further. But on the other hand, he can’t see your face so he can’t tell if the silence is back. 

“I am sorry for not telling you. For lying about who I am… I… You didn’t know me and yet I wanted to know you…but I knew I wouldn’t get that chance if I was honest about who I was. You had a preconceived notion about who I am and I wanted a chance to show you that’s not all of who I am… I didn’t mean for the lie to go on this long. And I do feel back for lying. And I really am sorry.” 

Your silence kills him. His heart hammers in his chest. But then he feels you turn and nervously press a quick kiss to his cheek. “I forgive you.” The three words are the sweetest he’s ever fall from the lips of another. “I get it. I appreciate your apology and I forgive you, Prince Schlatt.” 

“Jonathon.” 

The name escapes his lips before he can stop it. 

“Hmm?” You hum, pull your head from his shoulder to look him in the eye, your brows furrowed. 

His eyes meet your and his heart pounds quickly in his chest. His stomach turning over and over again, churning with nerves. “Jonathon. My name is Jonathon. Call me Jonathon.” 

“Jonathon.” You echo. 

Schlatt takes back his previous thoughts. Several people have called him his given name before. But this? Now? When it falls from your lips? It is certainly the sweetest it has ever sounded. 

He gives a small nod with a shy smile. 

“I forgive you, Jonathon.” 

He could pass away right then and there. 

“I’m sorry I had to step on your feet so you could dance me around the ballroom.” 

“I forgive you… would you like me to teach you how to dance?”

“Would you?” 

“I would. I wouldn’t offer if I wouldn’t.” 

“I don’t want to dance in front of everyone.”

“Who said anything about going back to the ballroom. We can dance right here.” 

Schlatt leads you through several steps very slowly, picking up the pace only after he was sure you were comfortable with the steps. 

Soon enough you were dancing like a pro. So much so that you could focus on the conversation between the two of you rather than the steps you were taking. 

The two of you talked and danced privately in the gardens all night. You offered several times to go back to the ballroom, the man throwing the ball should at least be in there for longer than a couple moments. He ignored that and said he would rather spend time with the one he threw it for. You can’t help but blush at that. 

You’re having such a fun time that you almost forget about the magic’s stipulation. Almost. 

 Jonathon spins you around once more, and pulls you in close to his chest. When you look up at him, you see he’s suddenly a lot closer than you realized. “Oh!” you let out softly. “Sorry,” you apologize, going to move away. 

Jonathon’s hold on you tightens, keeping you in place. “No need to be sorry… I like having you close,” he whispers. Your eyes stray down to his lips as he speaks. They look so soft… so plush… so kissable. 

“I like being close to you,” the confession uttered before you can stop it. 

The corners of his lips up turn in a small smile. The two of you stand there, frozen in time for a moment before he begins to lean in. You move to meet him. Your lips are about to meet when the grandfather clock that sits across the garden echoes out a loud chime. 

It causes you to jump and turn to look at it. 

It’s midnight. 

“Oh fuck.” You let out. “Is that clock accurate?” You ask, pulling yourself from Jonathan’s arms. 

He frowns, brows furrowing slightly, following your gaze. “Oh that old thing? Uhhh, just about. It’s 15 minutes fast. Why?” 

You ignore his question and begin to move back toward the inside of the castle. “Fuck. I have to go. I’m sorry. I’ll see you later. I have to go.” 

“Wait,” He calls after you, calling your name. “Slow down. Come back. Please. You don’t have to leave.” 

“You don’t understand,” You call back, picking up your pace. “I do.” 

Without paying attention, you burst back into the ballroom. Several eyes falling on you, eyebrows raised. You pay no mind still and run, trying to push your way past everyone in the room, but people keep coming up to you to talk to you. 

A hand on your wrist spins you around and you lock eyes with those beautiful chestnuts you’ve grown so fond of. His eyes scream worry and panic, silently begging you to stop running. 

You yourself must look panicked and frantic in a different way. Like a wild animal that has been caged and is about to start lashing out. 

“Please.” You whisper. “Help me.” 

The grip on your wrist loosens. Schlatt may not understand, but he will always do everything he can in order to be the person you need at any given moment. 

“Everyone!” He calls out loudly, moving towards the refreshment table. “Please come over here and join me in a toast to celebrate this evening.” 

The crowd instantly leaves you, allowing you a path to exit the room and then the castle. You’ve never been happier to see the grass as you are now. 

“Stop! Wait! Halt in the name of the Prince!” You turn slightly and look over your shoulder and find a knight with fluffy brown hair and square glasses chasing after you. In the moment, you recognize him as Charlie, one of Schlatt’s best friends/knights. 

“Oh fuck!” You shout. The magic was starting to fade already, you can tell, because all of the sudden it was hard to run in your glass shoes. You bend down and kick them both into your awaiting hands. You turn for a sharp moment, throwing one of your shoes at the knight. He lets out a loud startled scream, stopping for just long enough for you to run to your carriage. 

“Go! Go! Go!” You shout at your footmen and lady. They waste no time before kicking up and bolting out and away from the palace. You look out the window and find Charlie has stopped chasing you, one hand on his hip, the other holding your glass shoe up to the light in an inspection. 

You slump back in your seat, letting out a deep sigh. 

“That was way too close.” 

After getting all of his guests to make a toast, Schlatt books it out of the ballroom. He races to the front lawn. His head whips back and forth, peering down the road to try and see any sign of a moving carriage. 

Footsteps sound from either side of him. His head turns and he meets the eyes of Ted who gives a pitying look and a shake of his head. Schlatt looks to the other side and meets Charlie’s eyes who also shakes his head. His eyes drift down to Charlie’s hands, and there was the shoe. Your beautiful glass shoe. 

Schlatt slowly reaches out and carefully takes the shoe from his friend’s grasp and clutches it to his chest. He turns his eyes back down the main road, staring off letting out a soft sigh. Hands clasp on both of his shoulders in a silent comfort. 

The magic faded when you were nearly home. You had to herd a sheep, two mice, and your carrier pigeon back home all while carrying your big ass pumpkin in slightly damp clothes barefoot as you had thrown your one shoe and taken off the other. Your shoe though did not fade with the magic, you weren’t sure if that made you happy or sad. By the time you made it back, you were exhausted. You quickly put everything back where it was supposed to go, taking a quick shower, tucking the shoe under your bed, and collapsing in your room. 

You’re not sure how long you were asleep for before the door to your room slammed open. It startles you awake from your deep sleep. You look up and in a silhouette from the hallway light, is your stepmother. Your heart leaps to your throat, trying to take deep breaths in through your nose trying to calm down. 

“Stepmother,” you greet groggily. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” 

“You insolent child.” She hisses. “I thought I made myself very clear. You were not to go to the ball. And what do you do, but steal the prince away for the whole evening?” 

“I do not know what you’re speaking about, stepmother.” 

She shoots a sharp glare at you. “You know exactly what I speak of… No matter. With the way you went running from the ball I’m sure the prince realized his mistake. Choosing you to dance and spend time with. With the way he let you go, I’m sure it’s that he realized you are not and will never be good enough for him. You? A low life orphan baker? Royalty? Never.” 

Her words sting like the venom they are. But you can’t help but realize she’s right. No matter what you do, you’ll always be an orphan that so happens to be good at baking. You would be an awful royal. 

Maybe that’s why he chose to help you escape rather than continue to chase after you. 

Maybe he realized it too. 

You will the tears to not fall as you stick your chin out a little further. “I do not know what you’re speaking about, stepmother. Now if you don’t mind I’d like to get some more sleep.” 

She is a touch surprised at your instance, certain that her words would break you. She gives you another glare, but grabs the doorknob and slams the door to your bedroom. 

You flop back on your bed and stare up at the ceiling for a long moment. You don’t realize you’re crying until the tears pool in your ear canal. You bring your hands up and wipe them away, rolling onto your side and clutching at one of your pillows. 

You had to end it… whatever it was. 

The clock on his wall warns him it’s 3 am, but Schlatt ignores it in favor of pacing back and forth in front of a table where the shoe was perched. Every so often he paused to look over the shoe before pacing again. 

“Why did you run?” He asks the shoe, staring at it as if it will give a response. “Where did you go… why did you throw this shoe at Charlie’s head?” A small smile breaks on his face as he pictures the scene Charlie described to him three hours ago. “I would have given anything to see it… to be there myself… to stop you myself.” 

He stands still for a moment longer before pacing again. 

“Maybe… maybe you found it all to be too much…” He speaks, slowing down his steps. “It all caught up to you… didn’t it. It all sank in. You realized truly who I was and you had to get out… You… you don’t want me.” 

He stops again, plopping down on the edge of his bed. “I suppose I can’t fault you… But I deeply wish you hadn’t run.” He flops backwards and stares up at the ceiling. 

It was going to end… whatever it was. 

Schlatt didn’t realize that he had fallen asleep until he wakes up. He spends a good amount of time staring up at the ceiling. Every knock on the door gets a “go away” as he lays in bed wallowing in his own self pity. The knocks stop for a couple hours. But then they’re back again. 

Schlatt startles out of his thought spiral and this knock on the door, this one louder than all the others. He groans at the sound, rolling over on his side and tugging a pillow over his head, blocking out most of the noise. “Go away,” He calls out, tucking himself into his bed further. 

The silence makes him believe whoever was outside listened to him. That is until the door opens and shuts behind him. He groans from the back of his throat, rolling himself over and sitting up. “I said, go away-- father-” He interrupts himself as his eyes meet his father’s green ones. 

Philza raises an eyebrow and the corners of his lips turn up slightly at his son’s behavior. “Good day to you too, Jonathan.” 

“Good day, dad.” Schlatt mumbles, sitting himself up properly. Schlatt moves his feet up slightly to make room for Philza as he moves and sits down on the end of Schlatt’s bed. 

Philza’s hand smooths over the blankets as he gives a glance around the room. His eyes catch on the shoe, still propped up on the table. “They gave you their shoe?” He asks, amusement lacing his tone. 

Schlatt huffs a laugh. “More like, threw it at Charlie’s head.” 

Philza doesn’t hold back and lets the laugh escape his lips. “Oh I knew I liked them. You picked well son. An excellent love match.” 

Schlatt sighs and turns to lay on his side, back facing his dad. “Apparently not. She ran away. I assume because she couldn’t handle me… who I really am. I don’t blame her after all the time I spent lying to her.” 

Phil furrows his brow and questions what Schlatt means by that. With nothing left to hide, Schlatt divulges the entire relationship. How they met and met again (which Phil was not happy about but decided now was not the time to bring it up) and how they sent letters to each other nearly everyday and how he knew they didn’t know his name but never told them his name or who he really is. How he had thrown the ball hoping they’d come and they did and how it has all been for them but it’s all been for nother. 

Phil nods along, listening carefully. He lets Schlatt take deep breaths after his rant. “I knew something was up.” Schlatt meets his eyes, curious but does not speak. “You’ve been so much happier in these past few weeks than I can remember… And you were so insistent on a love match. Deep down I knew… So my only question is why the hell are you moping around this room when you should be out there looking for them?”

“Didn’t you hear me, dad? They don’t want me. They ran away.” 

“Did they tell you they didn’t want you? Look you in the eyes and say ‘Prince Schlatt I do not want you?’”

“No but--”

“No buts, son. I haven’t seen you this happy in years. I know that you’re in love with them, whether you realize it or not. I know because you look at them the same way I look at your mother. And they wouldn’t have spent the whole night with you if they didn’t love you too. They wouldn’t have given you a clue telling you to come get them if they didn’t.” Philza motions to the shoe. “So again, I ask you. Why the hell are you moping around this room when you should be out there looking for them?”

The words resonate with Schlatt, filling him with hope, that maybe, just maybe you love him like he loves you… damn. Yeah. He loves you. 

“You’re right… I have to go dad, I have to…” Schlatt shoots up out of bed and digs through his closet and throws on a random outfit. “I have to get Ted and Charlie and a whole group and we have to go looking. Door to door. I have to find them. I am going to find them.” He runs a hand through his hair before whipping around to face his father with a grin. He rushes forward and presses a kiss on his father’s cheek. “Thanks, dad.” 

You sat staring at the blank piece of paper in front of you. What to say to the man that makes you feel everything. You twirl your pen in between your fingers a couple times. Letting out a sigh, you lean back for a moment, looking out the window. Your attention gets caught by the pigeon beside you who lets out a coo. You sigh again, reaching out and giving the bird scritches. “Hey there,” you murmur. The bird leans into your fingers, rubbing against you more. “Yeah… I know this letter won’t write itself.” The bird cocks its head and coos. “Yeah, just one more letter… a goodbye. I know you must be excited, you won’t have to carry my messages anymore.” Another coo. “Well, of course I’ll let you fly around outside. I’m not a monster.” It blinks at you. “Well I have to tell him something! I can’t just stop speaking to him. I need him to know… It’s quite literally not him. It’s me. I’ll never deserve him… no matter how much I care… for him.” The bird lets out a sharp and short coo. “Fucking hell. You’re right. I love him. Gods damn it I love him so much. Oh this is going to be a nightmare.” 

Schlatt sighs in frustration as he and his knights trudge to the castle. They’ve knocked on every single door in the kingdom and not a single one did you stand behind it. The sun was setting the knights stomachs were grumbling so Schlatt decided to call it a day and head back to the castle, determined to start again tomorrow. 

He picks at his dinner, tossing and turning it over with his fork, giving half hearted replies to questions that he’s really not paying attention to. He can’t help but replay every interaction he’s had with you over again, followed closely by several notable interactions he had throughout the day. One where the woman had caked her face in flour hoping to prove herself to be the baker. Another that when she answered the door said “I am not interested!” with a smug smile, as if she really did something, and then slammed the door in his face. As if he would be interested in her? He very clearly was looking for someone. 

His head is heavy with everyone he’s seen and spoken to today, he’s just ready to turn in for the night. 

And then he hears it. 

That beautiful coo he’s grown accustomed to listening for every day. The tell tale sign that you have sent him a letter. It’s Bob. Your carrier pigeon. 

And he has a letter attached to his leg. 

Schlatts posture instantly straightens and he holds out his finger, letting out a soft coo of his own. Everyone turned in confusion and watched Schlatt. Ted was about to speak before Bob landed on his fingers and stuck out his leg. Schlatt carefully took the rolled paper and fed the pigeon a couple nuts

Schlatt carefully unrolled the letter and began to read. 

My dearest, Prince Charming, 

I guess now that I know who you truly are it is only correct that I change the sir in your title to Prince. My prince… I had the most magical time last evening with you. Dancing around in your private garden is certainly something I will never forget and will always be grateful for. It was so incredibly sweet of you to give me your undivided attention. 

It unfortunately has come to my own attention that I am not good for you. I do not deserve you my sweet prince. I could never be someone that you deserve. I am a simple orphan that happens to be good at baking. No matter how hard I would try, you would always be way out of my league. 

I hope you find the love match that you seek. I hope you find someone good and kind, with a loving heart that will deserve you and be someone worthy of your love and care. Someone worthy of you throwing an entire ball for them. I don’t know how I ever thought I could be that person. I am so sorry…

I love you, Jonathon. 

But you deserve so much more than me. 

Yours, 

Your name is signed at the bottom of the letter as it always is. He reads the second to last line, once, twice, a thousand times, until he’s convinced himself that it’s real. That you really wrote that you love him. He didn’t care about the other stuff that you wrote. Well he kind of did. But he knew it was bullshit. If anything it’s him who doesn’t deserve you. 

If only he could find you to tell you this….

And then it hits him. 

He springs up from the table and rushes out, startling everyone in the dining room with him. The pigeon flaps its wings and lands on his shoulder, used to being carted around. Schlatt runs to his room where he grabs a pen and paper of his own. He scribbles “I love you,” before snatching the shoe off the table and rushing outside. Ted and Charlie rush out behind him, confused at the rush. 

“Schlatt, what are we doing?” They ask. 

Schlatt elects to ignore them as he hands Bob the messily rolled piece of paper. “Here, Bob. Show me the way to them.” Bob takes the paper, coos softly, and takes off. 

Schlatt instantly begins to race after the bird, Ted and Charlie following close behind. How relieved he was to finally find a way to find you. Bob would certainly lead him to you. He could only hope he could keep up with the bird. 

Schlatt was feeling winded by the time he reached the small house on the edge that borders the kingdom and the forest. He hadn’t thought to make his way all the way out here, thinking you lived closer to the village with the way you walked to the market. Obviously he had been wrong. 

Either way, he could only pray that Bob had led him to the right place. 

He couldn’t tell if the tightness in his chest and the shortness of breath was just from him running all this way or if it was his nerves. He decided to call it ‘a bit of column a and a little of column b’ and call it a night. 

The three approached the door, each taking deep breaths calming themselves from the journey taken to get here. Schlatt looks over his shoulder apprehensively at Ted and Charlie. He had knocked on over a hundred doors today, it didn’t make sense that this was the one he got nervous on. 

His best friends each gave him an easy smile and a kind and encouraging nod, eager for the prince to knock. Schlatt turned back to the door, letting out a breath, shaking his arms out, before reaching up and giving a sturdy knock. 

It’s silent on the other side of the door for a long moment. Schlatt’s heart pounds so hard in his chest he has to swallow hard to get it back down to his chest. The door know turns quickly and the door is pulled open and an older woman stands before him. He tries to not let his disappointment show, especially as surprise and utter delight paints her face. 

The woman drops to a quick curtsy. “Your highness,” she greets. Her voice sounds like nails on a chalkboard and it takes everything Schlatt has to not visibly recoil. “To what do we owe the pleasure?” 

A small bout of hope flutters down his spine causing Schlatt to stand straighter at the word “we.” “I am not sure if you have heard, but have been searching the entire kingdom for the one I danced with last night. Do you have any children, my lady?” 

The woman brightens up even more and squares her shoulders back. “As a matter of fact I do. I have two.” The woman turns and cups her mouth. “GIRLS,” She hollers, causing the boys to shutter at the loud call. 

Footsteps race across the wooden floor and two younger women appear. Schlatt feels a huge wave of disappointment was over his being as he looks at their faces and realizes they’re not you. He doesn’t hide his distaste as the girls push each other, trying to stand straighter and puff out their chest larger than the other.

“Neither of these young women are who I am looking forward… Does anyone else live here? A servant or a stable hand? Perhaps a cook?” Schlatt asks, taking a single step forward, looking around the room hoping for some kind of sign of you. 

The woman’s face sours at the question before her mask gets put back in it’s place. “No one else, your highness. Although I can assure you, my daughters are perfectly suitable--” 

“What’s that?” Schlatt interrupts as a noise sounds from one of the adjacent rooms. It sounded like metal being set down on a counter. “I thought you said no one else lived here.” 

The woman swallows harshly and moves to stand in front of the door. “That… that is just the cook your highness, they do not live here… or at least soon will not,” she mutters the latter part with venom before turning back to Schlatt, a perfect smile posing on her lips. “No one to concern yourself with, truly.” 

Any sense of trust for the woman is washed away when the scent hits his nose. He would be able to pick that scent out of a million different ones. It’s one of the best things he’s ever smelled. 

He would be able to recognize the scent of your double chocolate chip cookies. 

And he knows you’re in there. 

“By order of the king, I demand you step aside.” He barely recognizes his voice as it escapes his lips. It’s deep and authoritative… damn as each day passes he sounds more and more like his father… he’ll have to correct that. 

The woman opens his lips to protest. 

Deciding he wants to hear no more of his voice, he gently pushes the woman’s shoulder out of the way. His hand finds the door knob and he throws open the door without care. He breath is ripped from his lungs as he sees the person who stands in the kitchen… in front of those unmistakable chocolate chocolate chip cookies.

“It’s you.” 

The door slamming open scares the shit out of you. 

The entire day you had been lost in your own head. You finished the letter and gave it to your pigeon to take to Schlatt. As soon as it had left your sight, you made your way to the kitchen in a daze where you let yourself begin baking whatever your heart was feeling in the moment. 

It was only when you were beginning to clean up the batter dishes did you realize what you had made… and who you had made it for. You let yourself drift back into your head as you watched the cookies bake  through the oven window. You knew you would probably never see him again. Especially not after this letter. 

You took them out of the oven and let the pan clatter to the counter without much of a care. The soft cooing of your pigeon drew your attention away. You turned to greet it when you caught sight of the paper on it’s leg. Confusion fills you as you carefully take the paper. 

I love you.

It can’t be. 

The door bursts open, causing you to jump and whip around. Those damn fucking beautiful eyes. They always seem to follow you. To haunt you. Especially in your own house, those fucking chesnut brown eyes that say everything that you want to hear all without saying a word.

“It’s you.” 

Oh fuck he’s actually here. 

What the fuck? 

What is he doing here???

“What are you doing here?” 

His eyes don’t leave yours as he surges forward. One of his arms wraps around your waist, the other moving behind your neck, hand moving up to cradle the back of your head. “What are you doing here? Why did you run away?” 

You stare at him in disbelief, mouth opening and closing a few times. “Did you not get my letter? I’m no good for you, Jon--Prince Schlatt, I do not deserve you, your highness. You deserve someone much better than me. Surely you--” 

“Don’t you understand,” he whispers, cutting you off. “There is no one better.” 

“But your highness--” 

“Don’t call me that.” 

“What?”

“You know what. Don’t call me that. That’s not my name. Not to you.” 

You let out a sigh and rub your flour coated hands on your apron. “Jonathon.” 

The smile that spreads across his face nearly makes you melt into a puddle. “There it is.” He murmurs, drawing his face closer to yours. “That’s my name.”

“Jonathon,” You repeat, trying to pull your blushing face away from his to no avail. You clear your throat and continue. “As per my letter, you deserve so much better than me. I am sure you can find someone-” 

“Did you mean it?”

You look at him partly confused, partly annoyed at him continuing to interrupt you. “Mean what?” 

“Did you mean it when you signed that you love me?” 

Your heart stops in your chest. You forgot you said that part. You don’t think you would have said it had you known it would have caused him to come bursting into your kitchen. You look at him in disbelief, is he not hearing your words? He surely read the letter. Why is he being so insistent on this? 

You could never lie to him though. 

You clear your throat and move your shoulders back. You meet his eyes head on. “Yes. I did. But-” 

“I love you too.” 

The world stops again. “What?” 

“As per my letter,” he says, a shit eating grin playing on his lips. The shock flowing through your body stops you from rolling your eyes. “I love you.” 

You remember the small piece of paper that was surely on the floor now that you took from the pigeon just moments ago. Obviously that’s who the paper was from. You swallow hard. “Sure you can’t-” 

“But surely I can. I think I’ve been in love with you ever since you called me a big petty man-baby who looked hotter now than I did before.” 

“I… I…’”

“I love you,” He utters, moving impossibly closer to your face. “I always have. You are all I want. You deserve so much better than me… But I’m hoping you’ll lower your standards and settle for me anyway.” 

His eyes shine so brightly. Those damn, fucking, beautiful eyes. They stare at you, hopeful, waiting with bated breath for your answer. They stare so intensely at you… You never want them to look away. 

It’s you that closes the distance and presses your lips to his. He instantly responds, tugging you closer to his chest and kissing you back. The kiss makes your body sing in delight. The spark starts at the base of your spine where his hand connects to your body and shoots out, encasing you completely. From the tippity top of your head to the bippity bottom of your toes. 

He consumes you. Completely. Totally. Entirely. 

You pull away breathless from the kiss, meeting his eyes. “I love you, Jonathon. I want to be yours. Please. I want to be yours, if you’ll have me?” 

Jonathon lets out a breathless laugh and shakes his head once. “Oh sweets, you’ve always been mine. I’ve always been yours. From the moment I met you. I’ve been hooked, sweets. You’re mine, and I’m never letting you go.” 

He leans forward again and presses his lips to yours. You eagerly respond, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him closer. 

After you break apart again, Schlatt tells you to pack your things. You don’t have much here anyway so it doesn’t take you long. Your step family could only watch with crossed arms as you moved about, taking your things. You would miss the house you grew up in, but you were more than excited to begin your new journey. 

Schlatt made Ted and Charlie help carry your things. Ted cursed at Schlatt for not thinking to grab a carriage or at least a horse in the pursuit of you. That spun a whole argument between the two, leaving you to converse with Charlie. 

You gave the man a shy smile. “Sorry for throwing my shoe at you… I panicked about someone following me. 

Charlie gives a chuckle and a smile. “It’s no worries. I’m just glad you made it home safely.” 

“Yeah me too! The magic gave out and I was left carrying a huge ass pumpkin home… My back hurt like hell this morning.”

Charlie tilts his head and gives you a curious look. “Not what I meant… but I do want to hear more about this magic.”

“What did you mean then?”

Charlie doesn’t answer, his head simply moves to where Schlatt and Ted were now in a physical altercation, Schlatt attempting to put Ted in a chokehold. 

A fuzzy feeling floods your chest.

He is your home… isn’t he?

Small Epilogue 

The two of you marry quickly. The royal family welcome you with open arms. They help teach you the ways of the royals but never make you feel less than for being a commoner before the marriage. You never stop baking, you think Schlatt would throw a huge fit if you ever did. He constantly blamed you for his “twink death.” And although you’re not entire sure what that means, you’re sure that happened way before he met you. 

You two love each other openly and loudly. It brings smiles to everyone’s faces to see the prince this lovey dovey with someone. There will always be those that disapprove, but Schlatt is there to hold your hand and tell them to fuck off. 

He reminds you he loves you every single minute of every single day… you think maybe he lays it on a little thick in particular when he wants you to bake something in particular. You never mind though. It’s your baked goods that brought you together in the first place. 

Who are you to deny your love the thing that the two of you bonded over first? 

Especially when he loves you with every fiber of his being… 

…and maybe even more so when you make him chocolate chocolate chip cookies…

And they lived happily ever after.  The End

As per usual, I am shit at writing endings. Thank you for reading my 16.3k word self indulgent fic <3

Leave a like, comment, or reblog if you enjoyeddddd

okay byeeeeeeee back to my several year hiatusssss

im still on tumblr even if i don't post my writing so you can always message meeeeeeee <3

byeeeeeeeeee <3

[butts-bouncing-on-the-beltway]

hey! i really resonate with the stuff you say about community building and shared responsibility and activism and resistance... it really vibes with something in me. you also espouse values of sympathy and meeting people where they're at to a degree a lot of people in my experience just aren't willing to try, at least with my particular situation, because it gets called "impossible" or just written off as a "lost cause" a lot, i was wondering if you would potentially have any advice for this? (please feel free to not engage if this is too long, i know i am... A lot.)

basically, i can't leave my house, as in, i can't make it out the front door (i go to medical appointments sometimes but they're an all-day affair that basically wipes me out for the next 24 hours). i've been... REALLY struggling to build community like this, especially since my roomates don't want other people in the house without them wearing masks and doing tests first (we all have severe chronic postviral illness and can't isolate from each other if we get sick), and i've tried to meet people on apps and such, but none of them have been willing to do any of that before coming to my house, and usually they bow out once they realize i don't have my own bedroom anyway (none of us do, two room basement apartment babyyyy lol, one bedroom one dual-use common area/kitchen). i feel, like, really brutally isolated and like i'm not able to resist, but more than that, like i'm not even able to build my own community to survive whats oncoming. i keep trying social media, but it keeps making me want to explode, everyone on every single platform i've tried is so combative and the culture is just awful, and i haven't made inroads into a single group in years at this point despite regularly posting and replying to people on tumblr, instagram, and recently, also bluesky.

asking for advice often gets me advice on how to get over social anxiety and leave the house, but i dont know how to tell people that i just can't leave, i don't have the fortune to live in an accessible building so getting me out of the building can take over an hour on its own and leaves me in so much pain and exhaustion i can barely stay awake for the doctors. and i can't move at this point because like the entire hud department got laid off and the social worker i talked to last week basically said if she was giving it straight to me she was pretty sure subsidized housing wouldn't open again for at least this presidential term, probably longer. we get to live here for only $100 a month each because we got a shady under the table deal and theres just nowhere else in my city i can live at this point because the minimum rent for a studio apartment is nearly twice as much as the ssi limit. really i just feel like i lack imagination, i can't wrap my head around how to build community and solidarity, i can't figure out how to get people to pay attention and welcome me into their community with these limitations.

no pressure to respond, i know this is a complicated and really personal situation and i'm not expecting you to have advice, i just thought if anyone would, it'd be you. none of this is really helped by having no privacy and no windows (so rarely getting any sun) and seeing the same 4 walls all day every day making me really, deeply depressed. it's hard to untangle what's a real barrier and what's depression making it hard for me to imagine possibilities.

hey! i really resonate with the stuff you say about community building and shared responsibility and activism and resistance... it really vibes with something in me. you also espouse values of sympathy and meeting people where they're at to a degree a lot of people in my experience just aren't willing to try, at least with my particular situation, because it gets called "impossible" or just written off as a "lost cause" a lot, i was wondering if you would potentially have any advice for this? (please feel free to not engage if this is too long, i know i am... A lot.)

basically, i can't leave my house, as in, i can't make it out the front door (i go to medical appointments sometimes but they're an all-day affair that basically wipes me out for the next 24 hours). i've been... REALLY struggling to build community like this, especially since my roomates don't want other people in the house without them wearing masks and doing tests first (we all have severe chronic postviral illness and can't isolate from each other if we get sick), and i've tried to meet people on apps and such, but none of them have been willing to do any of that before coming to my house, and usually they bow out once they realize i don't have my own bedroom anyway (none of us do, two room basement apartment babyyyy lol, one bedroom one dual-use common area/kitchen). i feel, like, really brutally isolated and like i'm not able to resist, but more than that, like i'm not even able to build my own community to survive whats oncoming. i keep trying social media, but it keeps making me want to explode, everyone on every single platform i've tried is so combative and the culture is just awful, and i haven't made inroads into a single group in years at this point despite regularly posting and replying to people on tumblr, instagram, and recently, also bluesky.

asking for advice often gets me advice on how to get over social anxiety and leave the house, but i dont know how to tell people that i just can't leave, i don't have the fortune to live in an accessible building so getting me out of the building can take over an hour on its own and leaves me in so much pain and exhaustion i can barely stay awake for the doctors. and i can't move at this point because like the entire hud department got laid off and the social worker i talked to last week basically said if she was giving it straight to me she was pretty sure subsidized housing wouldn't open again for at least this presidential term, probably longer. we get to live here for only $100 a month each because we got a shady under the table deal and theres just nowhere else in my city i can live at this point because the minimum rent for a studio apartment is nearly twice as much as the ssi limit. really i just feel like i lack imagination, i can't wrap my head around how to build community and solidarity, i can't figure out how to get people to pay attention and welcome me into their community with these limitations.

no pressure to respond, i know this is a complicated and really personal situation and i'm not expecting you to have advice, i just thought if anyone would, it'd be you. none of this is really helped by having no privacy and no windows (so rarely getting any sun) and seeing the same 4 walls all day every day making me really, deeply depressed. it's hard to untangle what's a real barrier and what's depression making it hard for me to imagine possibilities.

I need you (and the audience that will see this post) to understand that I am giving you a difficult answer with love.

You said something at the end here that I'm gonna contextualize a little for you. "It's hard to untangle what's a real barrier and what's depression making it hard for me to imagine possibilities."

Can you do me a favor anon? Grab a piece of paper and a pencil and then please read back through your ask. Mark down for me the number of times you named a "can't do", and mark down in a separate tally the number of times you named a "can do". As in, the things you named that are not available or accessible to you or that you cannot do or obtain vs the things you named that you do have access to or resources to do/obtain/etc. Next, read through once more and mark down for me the number of times you criticised yourself and/or apologized for yourself, regardless of whether or not you believe it was necessary/relevant to do so. And lastly, I would like you to read back over this post [link here and below] and tell me how many of the things named (e.g. taking photos or digitizing/preserving old records, making conversation in a shared digital or in person space, planting wildflowers somewhere, making art or sharing your thoughts in a discussion space, etc) are things that are RARELY or SOMETIMES or OFTEN a thing that is accessible for you.

This is a big ask on my part, but an important one for the following reasons:

I do not know who you are. You are literally an anonymous text message on social media to me. So the only context and knowledge I have of you is what is in this ask right here right now. Even if you reply and give me more context, I will never know for certainty that this next anonymous response is the same person (will I be fairly sure if it is? Maybe! But that's not the same thing as being able to know confidently enough to make inferences about this ask or future ones by assuming they were made by the same person. That's not a very responsible way to interact with anonymity.)

And unfortunately you have given me VERY little to work with here. You are asking me for advice to help you build community, but all I know about you is that you are ashamed of your presence in my space, you are feeling hopeless and frightened, and you believe you are not capable of surviving this moment in your life as things stand. Anon, this is not just a description of depression. This is a description of a trauma response associated with escalated depressive symptoms and associated with a risk in suicidal behavior and erosion of psycho-social-emotional resilience to intrusive suicidal ideation. [Follow the citation Daisy Chain and explore this idea further yourself please!

Trauma responses make it legitimately difficult and sometimes even impossible to adequately call upon the executive functioning skills we depend on higher brain function for, including problem solving, emotional regulation, and risk/safety assessment. Additionally, when these reactions become persistent/chronic and pervasive in our lives, it can affect our long term physiological health. Many people may have heard of the ACE Study conducted many years ago by Kaiswr Permanente, and while the ACE survey [link here and below] remains a standardizeable assessment that can help predict the level of trauma assessment and care a person may need, our understanding of the role of trauma in damaging long term physical and mental health when it is un-/under-managed has only grown since KP published their initial results. We understand that trauma can affect the brain, not just procedurally, but in cognitive and physiological structuring. We know these effects can heal with time, care, and safe environments. We know that chronic and traumatic stress significantly impact the autonomic nervous system and that the secondary dysautonomia that can result from trauma-related parasympathetic nervous system deconditioning is a major part of the physiological changes that can follow, such as changes to embodied processes of endocrine production, blood pressure and circulation, immune function, reproductive health, sexual satisfaction and comofrt, and so much more.

I cannot stress enough anon that while I do not know you, nor do I know enough about you to understand exactly how and why you have found yourself in this conversation, I strongly suspect that you need to have a serious conversation with yourself and possibly a trusted friend, loved one, or community aid worker, about how many of your basic needs are actually being met right now and what can be done to build a functional and safe floor under you. I cannot stress enough that you should not be pushing yourself to "community build" right now, but to "resource seek". This will still (likely) lead to community building in the end! But the order of operations here in how you prioritize your energy could really matter right now.

I talk a lot, and quite openly in tense dialectics that rarely 100% mesh with each other despite all being authentic and true, about my role in this work and its impact on my mental health. I do not necessarily talk about what has gone into making that feasible for me to do. This is partly a responsibility thing. I would absolutely hate for someone to read me talk about this stuff, treat it like a checklist, and get hurt because what was right for me wasn't right for them, but they trusted me more than they trusted their own pain as it was happening. This would be the worst case scenario for me in ways I truly can't describe, it's why I try more and more to acknowledge when I am and am not able to comment on certain things or make certain assertions, etc.

For now tho, lets suspend that and demonstrate EXACTLY what the work I do takes for me personally to sustain:

I see my therapist weekly.

I see my psychiatrist monthly

I meet AT LEAST weekly with my supervisor to go over skills, work that needs doing, policy work, ethical issues, resource navigation, growth, etc. Ever since the inauguration, my supervisor and I have never met for less than FIVE HOURS A WEEK to discuss these need areas.

I meet monthly with my entire department for a peer support program that we alternate facilitating. It can function as additional supervision and feedback, but often is just us making space for ourselves in a closed environment where we all understand each others contexts

I run 3 separate group chats, 1) a space for clinical, legal, and advocacy knowledge sharing, 2) a space for "open processing hours" where any of my department may pop in at any time to express they need to talk through something with someone, offer a brief description, and receive consultation and support from myself or a peer, and 3) a space for me and a couple of my staff who came up in the organization with me and are friends to cope together with the impact of our various de-radicalization works

I have a LOT of people I share this work with. For one, I there's all my direct reports at work in my day job, but ALSO there are people I have met and known over the years who I regularly or intermittently check in with and seek support from/offer help to. Not all of these people are what I would call "friends" but they are absolutely all "community". Understanding the difference between these two terms for me has been critical in not burning myself out or harming myself trying to be friends with everyone I need to be in community with while still allowing me to be **friendly** with everyone I'm in community with.

I am fortunate enough to be working for a person and organization who shares my values and priorities, and pays me well enough to allow me to devote most of my time to work through this org while still regularly calling on the tools of the organization to support the work I do outside of it, including material resources, aid referrals, human contribution, etc. Many of my staff do the same with me. One of my department staff (not direct report) has used the credentials our organization allows them to acheive to facilitate intra-communal mental health and community welfare initiatives on the reservation where they grew up. Another routinely sources emergency resource/aid requests that they receive in their community safety work with survivors of domestic violence. Another of my former direct reports has been volunteering in Palestine because they had an existing background in refugee support and had discussed with me heavily the role of our work in genocide prevention and response. None of these people are doing everything, but together, we are doing so much more than any of us ever imagined.

Because of the work I do, and the skills myself and my wife have, my wife currently manages our household while I work. This can get dicey at times and we are often deeply cash poor, but resource wise, together we have created a system that guarantees (as much as anything can) the following floor: 1) we will always have a roof over our head, 2) we will always have food to eat, 3) we will always have something to do for fun or relaxation, 4) we will always have somewhere we can go/something we can do if one of the first three things changes.

I have people in my life who help me walk away from these things when need be. Partners, friends, family, whatever the case may be, and while not every one of these people will be the right person to call every time, every one of them is the right person to call SOME of the time, and across the spectrum there are very few times when I have no one to turn to for space to have my feelings or let go of the stress

Despite ALL of this, the stress of what I do, compounded with my medical and mental health disabilities means that I have been in severe malnutrition for a very long time, and have been in slow rolling organ failure for at least a year (had my first surgical intervention exactly 12 months as of February in fact). I receive weekly injections and monthly infusions to keep my upright, walking, and talking at this point (fingers crossed this program takes and I can be done in April lmfao). My wife works from home in part because we can afford for her to, but also in part because we can't afford for her NOT to. My health requires semi-constant supervision and honestly I should have gotten a PCA years ago now to help me shower and manage my meds and other such things, but ee can't afford private pay and insurance says because I'm married I don't need it 🙃

I don't say any of this as inspiration porn. This isn't AT ALL me seeing "oh look how brave I am, if I can do it so can you." It is the opposite. I mean it when I say I want no one in the world to ever have to live the way I do. No matter how just the cause for doing this to yourself. But I **can**. I know how. I have been doing it my whole life. The balancing act is fragile but it persists and I survive to fight another day. Not everyone will be able to say the same. Every single pair of feet on the path will matter. So mine will be there.

This is now an incredibly long non-answer, so I'm gonna try and tidy up the threads of it here:

The golden rule of any support work is that you can't help anybody if you're fucking dead. So you need to know what it means to meet your needs, before anything else, and you need to know how much wiggle room you have to push that before it does more harm (to you AND your work) than good. Anon, I really hope you find community because it can mean so desperately much to each and every one of us. But I hope you find safety first. Because it can be deeply painful and counter-productive to try and find the former without first having at least some semblance of the other.

[rainncoater]

Hi!!!! I go by Rainn

I'm rainncoater, short for rainncoat eater (i actually hate the rain, i hate raincoats and i do not own one. santa claus isn't real. believe nothing on the internet 💔)

SOCIALS

@rainncoater-art is my art-only sideblog

instagram

i don't formally post anywhere else.

BLOG TAGS

#rainn art - my art

#rainn ocs - rare oc sightings

#rainn's shenanigans - miscellaneous chaos

#rainn rambles - i yap here

#rainn answers - responding to tags or asks

#cool art - :)

as of right now this blog is a purely an art + tumblr shenanigans blog.

BEFORE U INTERACT:

do NOT use my art without my explicit permission ty <3

I curse a lot (no slurs except 'queer')

I make stupid sex jokes and mention genitalia occasionally

I post vent art occasionally that may have triggering implications (all tagged TW)

given this info interact however ur comfortable with, no pressure <3

ME!

*i am bi

MY FRIENDS:

obligatory if ur not on here doesnt mean ur not cool. i stalk yalls blogs religiously this is honestly just for quick navigation LMFAO

@confusions-shed-of-ideas - phenomenal writer. anime gambler :( thanks for putting up w my ass for 12 years <3 collecting ur bagels...

@onehundredgar - local disgruntled 1000 y/o woke vampire. bones falling apart. FUCKING TURNS MY FEED INTO ONLY FISH! crazy yum art when she does post them.

@astravox - SKY OC LORE CARRY, fellow porple enjoyer & bisexual disaster <333 ALSO amazing artist

@nykenima - favorite and ONLY holder of the honorary lesbian title. on tumblr 24/7. ANOTHER super skilled artist.

MY INTERESTS:

my hobbies:

art: duh. it's funny bc i'm ok at 2D mediums but i have no patience for any other art form (but they are very cool and i have a lot of respect for them)

rollerblading/ice skating: i dont rly mention it here ever, but its a casual pasttime of mine that i LOVE kidnapping ppl to do w me 🙏

gym: dollar store therapy (it works*)

music: my fav genres are alt metal, rock and shoegaze, but i actually like a lot. i had a massive jpop/jrock/vocaloid phase and i currently like a lot of electronic stuff too. i also like it a lot when ppl mix rap with metal and/or edm :D

*joke. talk to ppl. take ur meds.

topics i enjoy:

any queer topics

subsequently, gender (both cis and trans! just general gender things and how it runs in society. it's very interesting!)

adhd & general neurodivergence (as an adhd-haver)

general psychology sociology things :)

honestly critically analysing any media tbh hmu it's time to be WOKE!!!!!!!!

gym... weightlifting is so fire. i skip cardio, sorry (FOR NOW... i'm extremely busy)

works that make me happy:

(i don't say fandom because i don't really engage in fandom activities lmao)

sky: children of the light: 2020-2022 player, but i still LOVE encountering sky art in the wild. singlehandedly the NICEST community HANDS DOWN. rec for the phenomenal atmosphere and vibes.

ghibli: i grew up with ghibli. i have watched almost every single ghibli work in existence. i am a ghibli PRO. my neighbour totoro and when marnie was there are my favs.

chainsaw man: batshit insane. 10/10 experience.

pokemon: also my childhood. dear to my heart

jewelpet: SO nostalgic. also niche af NO ONE EVER TALKS ABT THIS! i wish there was still jewelpet merch around. i used to have so many of their toys as a kid but i lost them all :( currently hunting for labra's jewel charm egg (see below)

honorable mentions:

my little pony made me an insufferable 8 y/o

warrior cats made me a furry*

animal jam turned me trans*

*joke. im not a furry (but they are cool :))

assortment of cool internet finds:

loved; short game. very symbolic VERY ANALYSABLE which is my fav thing ever.

i will add more as i think of/encounter em..

credits

[episims]

A Peek to My SFS Stats

I know some creators prefer not seeing their download numbers and that's fair! This kind of stuff can easily cause pressure and/or feelings of underachievement.

For me though, it's just statistics. And since it's pretty precisely 5 years from when I first uploaded anything to SFS, I've gathered some data to play with.

So, this very self-indulgent post is solely about my SFS stats. Just because I'm a total nerd I find it interesting, and I like being open about things. It's long and blabbery so the rest is safely under the cut.

For the background: I tend to create whatever I need for my own game. I share my weird stuff because I feel like it's a trade for everything I download from others.

Probably due to the lack of any consistency or branding at all, my CC has a wide range in download numbers. I have some popular pieces, sure, but also some niche mods like no snow accumulation that has only interested 126 persons in nearly two years.

Even though saying "only 126" is an illusion created by the internet. Imagine if those 126 individuals would come to you in person. That's more people than I've probably even had a real talk with during the last year!

The raw data of my SFS main folder is (calculated with a sheets program): it has 227 files and the average download count for each file is 1557, but 74% of the files have been downloaded fewer times than the average.

So even though my CC isn't usually downloaded that much, I've shared a handful of things that have been downloaded so much more than everything else that they pull the average up.

What are those things? Time is an important factor here, as most CC tends to gather downloads over time (not a single post from 2023 on this list).

1) Subtle wrinkles (January 2022)

17313 downloads (674 hearts; ~3,9% of all downloaders) Post notes: 1112

That's several thousand more than the second most downloaded thing I have, and it's such a random thing.

I'm sure most people have downloaded them to get those 4t2(ish) forehead wrinkles. I have no other explanation as the rest of them are hand-drawn by a person who can't draw. Also the preview is frankly hideous, I used about one minute to take it... safe to say I didn't expect this post to gather any attention at all.

2) Cellphone default (January 2021)

13547 downloads (565 hearts; ~4,2% of all downloaders) Post notes: 1133

Noteworthy that it's been updated a couple of times which pushes people to redownload.

This was a quick passion project, since at that time I couldn't find a cellphone default I was completely happy with. If it hadn't been a quickie, I would've used more time to find a good base mesh oof. Many thanks to @pforestsims for later improving it.

3) Tombstone defaults (December 2019)

12477 downloads (582 hearts; ~4,7% of all downloaders) Post notes: 1064

I was so proud of these when I made them. Those were my first mesh defaults ever! Today, I'm proud of my past self for doing them. That's crazy many meshes and subsets to handle for a total noob.

I couldn't do anything with BHAVs back then, so those defaults would've never ever happened without @midgethetree. She endured a lot, working with a noob who went through several meltdowns because of subset issues that didn't make any sense.

4) Baby personality mod (February 2020)

9724 downloads (489 hearts; ~5% of all downloaders) Post notes: 1193

The first mod on the list! Absolutely essential one for myself and apparently for some others too.

Also the actual first mod of my own ever. I can't really recommend starting with something this complicated, I had zero ability to perceive the scope of the mod when I asked if @midgethetree was willing to help me through it. She deserves all the praise for doing it, I've realized later that I couldn't ever teach anyone the way she taught me. So, if you read this: thank you, Midge.

5) Rabbit pen default (August 2022)

9628 downloads (442 hearts; ~4,6% of all downloaders) Post notes: 1305

This was completely @deedee-sims' idea and project! I just hopped in (hah) to help. I'm only hosting it for practicality, as the BHAVs most often need updating, and those are by me.

6) Turn On/Off replacements (July 2021)

8644 downloads (388 hearts; ~4,5% of all downloaders) Post notes: 1470

This post has more notes than any other post of mine, yet it's not even nearly the most downloaded thing I've done. The two don't always go hand in hand.

I've also shared an updated version of these lately in a new post. It's unlikely they'll get the same amount of attention, which on paper doesn't make much sense since it's practically the same thing but done better. But I'm sure everyone knows that the hype and the quality don't always match.

7) Pixelry’s KKB fridge recolors (February 2022)

8147 downloads (329 hearts; ~4% of all downloaders) Post notes: 662

This is such an oddity on this list since it's the only recolor set and the post has fewer notes than the other ones, too. People just (secretly) really like cute fridges, apparently.

8) Crib teeth anim fix (August 2022)

6157 downloads (431 hearts; ~7% of all downloaders) Post notes: 1408

This list is already long enough, but I wanted to show how fast the number starts dropping at this point.

This got posted a day before the bunnies, and I find it funny to think that for about 3000 people it's more pressing to have bunnies in their game than fixing their toddlers dropping teeth while crying lol.

No point in continuing the list forever, but among my most note-gaining Tumblr posts are also:

Puppy/kitten want replacements (October 2022, 1114 notes, 3849 downloads)

Improved biotech station (July 2022, 1110 notes, 3893 downloads)

Camera overhaul mod (January 2024, 1059 notes, 1752 downloads)

Newspaper default (March 2022, 970 notes, 5052 downloads)

While I don't have a real conclusion to offer, it's clear that notes don't always get realized to downloads, and likewise many people download without interacting with posts.

One more thing I'd like to point out is that the percentage of people who hit that SFS heart button seems pretty constant. I feel like it shows that some people just have that habit and some don't, and it's not likely directly related to how much they like the thing.

The amount of SFS hearts that crib teeth anim fix has gotten doesn't follow this pattern lol. It's really not common to see the percentage change even that much.

[viktorarcanedeservesbetter]

have writers block for some of my wips so heres post-canon angsty Jayvik healing

Jayce knows it's going to be a bad morning when he wakes up and Viktor is not in bed. Asleep or awake, Viktor is always still in bed when Jayce wakes up, either still holding him or being held, reading a book, or sleeping like nothing will wake him. It's one of Jayce's requests-don't leave me alone-and Viktor always follows it, no matter what.

Save for very particular situations.

Viktor is not in bed, the king-sized mattress they stuffed with pillows and pressed into the corner. Jayce sleeps on the outside, ready to protect, needing some sort of open space to remind him he's not in the ravine. Viktor needs to be pressed in close, contained. They are opposites, two halves of a broken whole.

No, Viktor is not in bed, curled on his good side, his leg in between Jayce's because the pressure helps his sore muscles.

Instead, the spot next to him, the one against the wall, is empty, and his heart sinks.

He listens, first. Maybe Viktor is in the bathroom, maybe its just a bad pain day and nothing else, but he does not hear the sounds of running water from the sink or flushing of the toilet. No sounds at all.

Sitting up, he looks around for any signs of what he will be handling this morning. His cane is abandoned against the wall, as is his brace. Both still next to Jayce's own brace. He grabs the metal contraption, pulls it over his naked leg, grimacing a bit-it's supposed to go over clothing-and he stands, popping joints in his back as he moves.

His next sign is that Viktor's robe is still hung on the back of the door. He's always cold, even with the minuscule weight he's gained, and he's always wearing long sleeves and a cover in the colder months. From early fall to early spring, Viktor wears a cover.

Always.

It's been four years.

Viktor never leaves the bed without Jayce unless he forgets why he stays.

Viktor never leaves his cane or brace behind unless he forgets why he needs them.

Viktor never forgets his second layer unless he forgets why he wears one.

Jayce wonders what version of his husband he'll find today.

____

Jayce knows where he is the minute he steps into their sitting room. He also knows what he's dealing with, as he eyes Viktor carefully under the coffee table. It's one they made together, carved from wood and has a lot of space under it for boxes and stuff they don't want to clean up.

Viktor has taken one of the blankets off of the couch and wrapped himself in it, so tight it looks constraining. Amber-gold eyes don't meet Jayce's green-gold as he carefully leans down, groaning and grunting, head pillowed on his arms as he lies a foot away.

"Hi there," he says, quiet and soft. "I see you grabbed a nice blanket. Probably a very soft one, too."

Viktor says nothing, but his eyes flicker to Jayce for a moment.

"I can make food. Are you hungry?"

Viktor's eyes don't move again, but he begins to mutter something under his breath, soft, quiet. No real language, though. It's not Piltovian and it's not Zaunite. They've hypothesized its a combination of multiple languages, different consonant and vocalic patterns mixing, different grammar rules taking hold at once.

Jayce takes it as a no.

"I can make you something to drink?"

Viktor's eyes flicker to Jayce, this time staying.

Jayce smiles, soft, and takes it as a yes.

"I'll go make us coffee. Okay? I'll be right over there, in the kitchen."

Gold eyes stay on him as he stands, slow, painful as even after almost five years he's not used to it. He doesn't know how Viktor did it for thirty. Moving towards the kitchen, he keeps his conversation light, knowing he's likely talking more to himself. Hoping that Viktor, his Viktor, deep inside the ghost haunting their living room, is listening.

"I think we can take it easy today. We did all the important chores already, I chopped up the wood, you fixed the pipes to our shower, we brought in the ripe foods from the garden. I think I can be brave enough later to go and steal some eggs from Gloria, but she might snap at me. The animals like you better, after all."

He fills the metal pot with fresh water and scoops coffee grounds into the space on the bottom. They haggled for it, early on, and Jayce has fixed it up a few times since they. Turning the dial, he sets the pot on the stove and waits.

They rarely go into town. Once a month, for the things they cannot grow or make themselves. Jayce has enough money-combined with the savings they broke out of the bank-to pay for it all. They will never work again. Instead, the mail drops off a package of cash, amongst letters and other things, taken from his mom's bank account. All of what was his went to his moms. She is set for life.

As are they.

"If you're feeling hungry, I can make us breakfast for lunch. You always like having meals for other meals. I won't forget you introducing me to breakfast for dinner. My favorite thing."

Jayce pulls out two mugs, thinks better of it, and exchanges one for a mug with a lid. If Viktor needs to stay under the table, he can do it without getting burned by spilling hot drinks. Three sugars, three spoonful's of cream. Always.

"We can go read out on the porch, too. Or I can read to you, if you'd like. We'd need to put some better clothes on, I think it's going to start to snow by the end of this month, so we do have to start pulling the thicker sweaters out of storage."

Viktor doesn't say anything. Which is a good sign, because sometimes Viktor doesn't know who Jayce is, believes he's twenty and been kidnapped by a large, strange man. Sometimes Viktor does remember him, but's right after the commune. Sometimes Viktor remembers him but as the arrogant boy who thought he could control magic.

Viktor's silence means he's listening.

"I'll pour you some of this, we can just rest, and then we'll see how you feel later, hmm?"

He does as he says, pouring the coffee into the travel mug and mixes it until it's a nice tan color. Jayce pours his own until he's sure the one sugar he has in it has dissolved. He turns the dial off, moves the pot so it's no longer steaming, and moves back around the counter.

Viktor is still under the coffee table, but the blanket isn't so tight, and he looks a little more aware. This time, Viktor's eyes follow him as he walks, and Jayce carefully sets the cup down a few inches away from Viktor's head. He still doesn't grab it, almost afraid to it seems, with the look on his face, but Jayce knows he'll take it before it gets cold.

He always does.

Instead of lying down again, Jayce sits, half cross-legged, and sips at his coffee so Viktor can see him. It's warm, good, familiar. Like the coffee his mom would make, not like the stuff he got used to in Piltover.

"I think I'll sit here for awhile," Jayce says. "Drink my coffee, make my mental notes of what to do today. We still have two boxes of books my mom sent us that we haven't even opened yet, I'm sure there's a few books I could read in one sitting in there. Maybe I'll sketch something, too. Try landscapes, this time, even though I'm better at portraits."

He keeps his eyes away, though he makes sure to flicker them down to watch Viktor. His husband's hand is free from the blanket, slowly moving to the coffee cup. He's muttering again, some words in Piltovian, some in Zaunite, but it's mostly gibberish, still. A quick improvement, though.

"I do think we can scrounge up enough stuff around here to make a good stew. I'll take out some beef to sear and see what kind of broth we have left. It'll be a lot more carrots than anything else, since we need to use them, but hey, they help eyesight, don't they?"

Viktor's eyes meet his, just as his fingertips reach the cup. Hesitant, he stalls, waiting for something. Jayce knows what.

"You can drink the coffee, Viktor. It's alright. I made it for you."

It takes a few minutes for the message to set in, but when it does, Jayce can see the sliver of recognition, the good kind, the kind that remembers that they're married and that everything is okay. He watches as Viktor angles his head up enough to take a long sip of the drink.

"Good, right? We should stock up on that brand over the winter. It's my favorite. I think, once we finish our coffees, we get dressed, have some toast and jam, and go sit out on the porch. We can read, sketch, talk, or just sit there if you want. I can hold you, too."

Viktor sets aside his coffee cup. For a moment, Jayce thinks he'll remove his hand, hide under the blanket, but instead, the scarred skin-textured palm and fingers reach out, slow, shakey.

Jayce takes it in both of his.

"Yeah. We're going to be fine, you and me. I promise you."

Viktor says nothing back, but Jayce can see, deep inside that warm gold, that Viktor believes him.

And that's all he needs.

[enjoyvoidblack]

our big post was getting long and it won't let me message so I thought I'd just come bother you here asldkfjsad I am like. so 1000% certain there is mention in the text that the initial purpose and efforts of Jonah and the Institute were to research the fears and prevent their many catastrophes, and that somewhere along the line he came to the conclusion that this wasn't viable, that the world and the fears simply didn't function in a way that was conducive to meaningfully stopping them from doing anything. which was how he settled into the position of 'well then I am going to use the instruments of power to save ME and build a ladder to free myself personally from their clutches forever' I def don't know when he started to turn from that, but i'll have to go back through the transcripts and find it again.

I do get that the narrative is written with Jon as the focal point, and that doesn't leave a lot of room for Elias to be sympathetic--he certainly doesn't make himself sympathetic TO Jon, or any of the Archives crew (beyond what I find to be an interesting amount of patience, understanding, and restraint he shows for them), but I still think like. Part of the beauty of Jonny's storytelling is that there is a kernel of completely understandable humanity to most everyone that's presented with any depth in the series, even the people we DON'T like. The "people here don't have excuses, they have causes" is again really excellent wording. There isn't really a lot of the usual karmic style reasoning or justice in this series; it isn't about Good People doing Good Things or Bad People doing Bad Things, it's just. People Doing Things, while under the influence of powers that are at once cosmic and beyond us, and inherently OF us.

adsfkjas this is getting long too I'm so sorry you activated a trap card here but idk. He absolutely is both manipulator and victim. He did all that shit, and all the while it's being done TO him, and he's walking this incredibly razor thin line between feeding his god/being empowered by it, and bc of it's nature knowing in intimate detail every nasty thing that awaits him should he fail (and I think being deathly afraid of it). That gif from Knives Out lmfao, compels me.

(apologies this probably isn't hugely coherent but there we are)

Thank you I am chewing on this ask violently. You Get It.

Unfortunate that tumblr killed your paragraph breaks, because I now can't find the section easily, but that thing about Jonny's character work in this series entirely consisting of aspects of "completely understandable humanity" is SO deeply how I feel about it. This is part of why I love horror of this kind so much. The horror being the fact that no one can really do anything to stop it opens up a space where the characters don't need to be presented along clear lines of good and evil, or even helping a cause or hurting it. It's a lot closer to how real people react in a natural disaster, if anything. There is love and selfishness and incredible acts of violence and cruelty and understandable failings and greed and fear, and pretty much all of it has a root that you can see, if you know enough about the people doing it and the circumstances to really feel where their mindset must be. I'd say Elias is functionally the closest thing TMA has to a narrative scapegoat, but that doesn't mean he is one. I almost feel like he's there as a pressure valve for the story, to be a villain if people need one to make sense of what's going on without having to constantly confront head-on the horror of the way the setting traps everyone in it. He can be made that kind of scapegoat, but only really by ignoring the parallels to Jon and the letters sent to him in older statements, and the way both show how the Fears drive the people who learn about them into more and more desperate straits.

It's kind of like that with all the older avatars. Simon Fairchild throws people off of stuff for a joke, because he's had more than 400 years of being steeped in the knowledge that humanity is both insignificant in the span of the universe, as well as utterly incapable of stopping the course of the Fears as they exert whatever influence they will by the force of sheer bulk. Peter Lukas never had a chance - he was born into this, isolation was his family and religion and paradoxically from childhood his only possible road to belonging. Adelard Dekker thought he was helping, as did Gertrude, even as they both fed the things that claimed them alongside those efforts. Nikola Orsinov was so far away from having an identity anymore that she couldn't go back if she wanted to, if she had even had enough left to want. Her world would have just been a home that was more like herself, and who hasn't wanted that? They're easier to vilify because their outlooks are harder to understand until the very end of the series, but looking back it's so clear that they were also just people once, and the writing never really lets you forget that.

If I said I'd tried to make all of these replies short, you probably wouldn't believe me. And Yet. I am not NORMAL about this show and the way Jonny writes people.

[stonegearstudios]

Flash Gordon & the Sci-Fi of Almost a Century Ago!

I've got a interest in old scifi. That's not strange, plenty of people do, though what interests me most might be slightly more unusual.

I'm interested in the good ideas and the bad, at the same time. Now, it's no surprise that old scifi has it's issues, literally everything does, but the common treatment of women, race, politics... well we'll see soon.

Despite all that I like looking back at old stuff to try and pic the good out of the bad, to see what were genuinely the revolutionary ideas while not ignoring the real issues.

I also happen to run a weekly watch party in the RPPR discord and this week were starting the 1980 Flash Gordon movie, so I thought, why not go back and read the original comic strip, starting at the beginning way back in the 30's?

And on a Sunday no less

So, Flash Gordon. Without doing a whole biography, here are some basic details

The first strip came out on January 7, 1934, though given it was in the big Sunday papers, strip is less appropriate, more of a comic block really, full colour to

It was explicitly made as a... should I say knock off? of Buck Rogers, made more than 5 years earlier (Will probably read Buck Rogers sometime to)

According to Wikipedia, they tried to get the license to make their comic a John Carter adaptation, but when negotiations fell through, Flash was born (hey, just like Star Wars 50 years later)

Apparently early Flash was also inspired by the 1933 novel When Worlds Collide, which I have some experience with, will be interesting to see how

Ok, let's get started. I have no idea if these comics are in the public domain yet so I won't be posting the whole things, just individual panels here and there

Polo, really? Polo?! Can you get more poncy?

Starting off, we hit the ground running. In only 7 panels we learn a rogue planet is flying toward Earth (and this World will Collide with it), apparently there is a lone scientist is driving himself mad working on a solution, and our two main characters are introduced and swiftly put in peril as a meteor from the approaching planet just so happens to destroy their planet.

There's not much SciFi yet, besides the approaching planet. I feel like rogue planets are a trope that used to be more common, though I can't be sure. Apparently the first exoplanet evidence was found in 1917 but one wasn't confirmed until 1992, so it makes sense that writers would be theorizing about them.

On the less good side, the second and third panels are used to show how "primitive" peoples are helpless before the approach of the planet, and can do nothing besides turn to superstition. It will be interesting to see how non-white characters are portrayed as the comic goes on, though I'll be surprised if it can, well surprise me before we get to a more modern take.

I mean, Flash isn't wrong, but good lord what's wrong with your legs man?!

In the second half, we get a look at Flash's abilities. A meteor knocks a wing of the plane he was in clean off and somehow he manages to both put on a parachute, grab Dale (was Dale a common woman's name back then? I don't know) and jump clear of the tailspin. Effortless for a Capable Man™, the pilot and any other crew are just out of luck I guess though.

Quite economical storytelling that a meteor from the approaching planet (Which somehow got way, way out in front of it) would knock them down right in time to land in front of the lab of the only scientist would could stop the planet... who then holds them at gunpoint and forces them into his rocket in what he thinks is a suicide mission. I guess that stress really is getting to him.

A couple of things here, yeah, the story is going a bit to fast, but this is a Sunday comic after all, you get one a week then have to wait a week for the next one so I imagine there was quite a bit of pressure to make each instalment feel worth it.

It's also such a classic scifi thing to have a lone scientist working on a vast machine. Like, did he do the metallurgy himself? How did he move the parts? Is he an Omnidisciplinary genius? Old scifi has no time for these rational questions, we need to get into space by comic 2!

Speaking of

Strip 2 (presumably published on Jan 14th)

Oh yeah, this is the good stuff

Dr Hans Zarkov (Zarkov doesn't seem to be a real name but Hans implies something Germanic, given this is the early 30's I wonder if that implies anything?) continues his manic break, suddenly becoming a coward who doesn't want to die while Flash is now committed to ramming himself into this planet.

It's nice that Dale's first instinct is to grab a wrench to wallop the doctor, that will serve her well. And then we see the panel above. This is the kind of simple yet evocative scifi art I would have rotated in my mind for hours if I had read this as a kid. A submarine like rocket, a glittering city set against a pitch black sky (implying no atmosphere?) I love it.

And then we are reminded that planets have gravity and you really should have someone at the controls of your rocket. BANG, CRASH, and the rocket crumples into a mountain. Despite what must have been a impact at thousands of km/h, Flash is just fine (even if his polo gear is a bit torn up) while Dale is just unconscious. Leaving the rocket (without Hans) Flash walks to the city in the distance.

Gotta have a cliffhanger each week, wonder if one will have a literal cliff?

Other than the rogue planet, the first strip didn't have much to draw me in if I was reading Flash on release, but this? This would catch my attention. Alien worlds, alien monsters, mysterious cities! This would get me coming back next week, good thing I don't have to wait that long.

One thing to note I suppose is the interior of the rocket, with all it's pipes, pressure gauges and such, reminds me more of a Jules Verne creation than a rocket, but we aren't that far from Verne's age in the 30's, now were we?

Strip 3

Slowly, slowly eating him. How considerate

Well, Mongo (I'm assuming that's where we are) certainly doesn't waste any time. You crash and giant lizard-cat monsters are trying to eat you inside five minutes. Better get more than a pen knife Flash old buddy.

We also see the classic trope of "Oh no, a giant monster is about to eat me! Oh no a second one! Oh, they're fighting each other, better get away". But then, rockets!

That's one heck of a worrying trajectory for someone with only rear mounted rockets

Aliens! Who look just like rubber foreheaded people, guess Star Trek had to get it somewhere.

Now, there's no getting around this, the very human-like aliens are literally coloured yellow, their leader (called the Emperor of the Universe here) is named Ming (though not named yet, wonder when that will happen). It's been a while since I did a deep dive into Yellow Peril, but lets just say, despite how stereotyped he was, I was surprised the African man in the first comic wasn't drawn with big pink lips. Racism is an intrinsic part of almost all media from this era, one of the reasons I still haven't gotten into John Carter yet is the opening blurb where his backstory is discussed. There were exceptions to this, even at the time though, and I think it's important to remember this wasn't a hard rule, it was laziness and pandering to a lowest common denominator audience.

Anyway, in terms of scifi tropes... well, we quickly have a Emperor on his thrown, he grabs up all the pretty ladies, sends our hero to the arena to die, archetypal bad guy.

Strip 4

Flash is a great dancer

Straight into the arena and the appearance of another pulp staple, Man-Apes. I wonder what the first property to use them was, The Island of Dr. Moreau?

Anyway, as a certified Capable Man™ Flash has no trouble dispatching them, despite the fact that other primapes have muscles that work a bit differently than us humans, so a single blow could have de-gloved him (don't google that).

While the fight panels are more than a bit disjointed, the actual poses aren't bad. You see how powerfully Flash is built (and several of them would make George Takei go "Oh My") and using your opponents as a weapon is always fun.

By the standards of the day, the ladies haven't been that bad so far

Ming, being an evil Emperor of course, can't have this, so Flash must be shot down. Good thing that like all imperial goons, his men are terrible shots. And lucky for Flash he leapt into the viewing box of the Emperor's daughter, who calls for his mercy.

The evil emperor has got to have a inexplicably pure and good daughter to, it's just the law. What's really funny is how in the very next panel, Flash falls down a trap door. Really lets you know what kinda guy Ming is. Has a trap door to the Hole of Horrors™ installed in his own daughters booth. I shudder to think what he put in her bedroom, swinging blades?

Now, I can recognize that this is the old love at first sight for a man you don't know trope, but I prefer to believe our Princess is just so fed up with her dad she would have jumped after anyone. Anything to get out of another state dinner :V

And that's 4 comics. Let's see if I can make this a regular thing. 4 comics a week, on Sundays since Flash was a Sunday comic.

If this was interesting at all, why not drop me a comic on your own thoughts, especially if you decide to join me in a readthrough.

Until next week, set your Rockets to Maximum!

[coralhoneyrose]

📚 🔮 ?

📚 Is there a fanfic or fanfic writer you recommend?

Oh man, there’s a whole bunch of them as a matter of fact! I made a list for an anonymous ask a while back that you can find here, but there have been some other excellent chrobin fics I have found or re-discovered since then, so here’s a few additions:

Elevation

Flushed

Mate in Four

Went looking for a creation myth; ended up with a pair of cracked lips

Day of the Dead

As It Should Be

Guilt and Forgiveness 

Heavy is the Head 

Mental math

The Best Dad Ever

Firefly

🔮 Any advice for writers working through burnout or writer’s block?

I do have some, actually! Most of this has probably been said before, but here’s some stuff that has helped me:

Take a break. Like a real break where you’re not even trying to write or plan for your writing and set a minimum length for the break ahead of time. If you find yourself wanting to write during the break anyway, don't. Better to make yourself take the time away and give yourself a chance to miss it; also, you don't want to teach your brain that the breaks are conditional it needs to be a real period with absolutely zero expectations of producing anything.  

When you come back to writing afterwards, don’t bite off more than you can chew. Start with small goals like “I will write for 10 minutes and if I am not enjoying it at the end, then I will honor my feelings and stop”. If you have a hard time with accountability, try telling a friend you will start at a certain time and having them message you once the time is up to ask if you were able to follow through and how it went. 

Fresh air!! If it’s feasible, preferably somewhere with trees or a body of water. Could be good to go alone as well, or with someone who won’t expect you to talk the whole time. Making time to let your thoughts wander and to daydream is important for replenishing creative reserves.

Try a hand at drawer fic. Write something really different from what you’ve been working on with no intention to ever publish it or necessarily show it to anyone. Just let yourself focus on the actual creation process without all the pressures

Talk with friends about some of the things you love / that get you excited about whatever thing you’re trying to write (may work better with fic than original work but could probably be made to work in either case)

Put on really good music when you sit down to write. I recommend something instrumental personally, since my brain has a hard time making words if I am listening to someone else’s, but that sort of thing is different for everyone.

Read books with prose you find inspiring and take notes (can just be on your phone) on the writing techniques the author uses that you like or specific word choices and phrasing you find interesting. Next time you sit down to write, revisit it to get some ideas flowing

This last one is kinda specific and may only be applicable to certain types of writer’s block and burn out, but I was in a bit of a writing slump not long ago and reading this blog post was very reassuring to me. To generalize it a little more, maybe try looking into other writing communities or listening to other writers share their experiences with the same thing. One of the scary things about writer’s block / burn out is that when you’re in it, it can feel like it will never end. Hearing from other people who have been in the same position as you can be really reassuring <3

[yuri-is-online]

If the 500 followers event is still open, would be alright to ask for prompt 15 with Ortho? Platonic obviously! I just think the robot boy deserves some more love. Thanks! <3

15. Formal balls weren't a thing in your world so you have been hiding in this strategically chosen corner to avoiding having to step on anyone's toes. Unfortunately someone really, really, REALLY, wants to dance with you and has managed to track you down AGAIN.

I was surprised to get Ortho requests this event since I haven't exactly written anything specifically dedicated to him but he is such a good character. He deserves all the love and friendship in the world, and this prompt suits him well given how he acts with Idia.

notes: they/them used for Yuu, Ortho is meant to be post Ch. 6, Yuu is sort of an introvert and a bit self depreciating, that's ok Ortho is here to give some encouragement! The other event requests can be found on my masterlist here.

This had been a mistake.

As much as you liked looking out on the fantastic scenery in front of you, it is all extremely overwhelming. Almost like it's wasted on you, the magical scenery is simultaneously completely comprehensible and extremely unnatural. You've seen pictures of Masquerade balls, seen them used in anime, listened to songs, and thought long and hard about just what it was you would do if you ever magically got invited to one. And now that you actually have been you are faced with the grim reality that no, just because everyone is wearing a mask that doesn't mean that you will suddenly overcome your distaste for crowds or figure out how to dance.

"Yuu!" Now if only you could make a certain someone agree. "There you are! You're getting better at this hiding thing." Ortho floats to keep himself at eye level with you, cheeky toothy smile freed for the special occasion.

"Really?" You groan, maybe you can bargain your way out of this one.

"Ha ha no." Ortho laughs, moving to cut you off from your exit and repeats the same question that's been haunting you all night. "Please dance with me Prefect! It'll be a bunch of fun."

"Don't wanna." You huff in an all too familiar way to Ortho, but he is surprised to find himself at a bit of a loss. Idia is Idia, and you are Yuu, his data is lacking on what to suggest to get you to agree to his request. It's a bit exciting actually, like playing an RPG blind and still trying to get a good end with your favorite companion.

[Ortho: Persuasion] "But I really want to dance with you, Prefect." He makes sure to sag his joints just enough to invoke sympathy without seeming like he is about to throw a tantrum. It seems to sort of work, but not in the way he really wants it to. You just look like you feel horrible for disappointing him and uncomfortable.

"I'm really sorry Ortho." you try to keep your breathing steady, flustered between seriously considering his request (there's no pressure if you are just dancing with a friend, right?) and still trying to plan your out. "But I am just not good at formal stuff like this at all, we don't have big parties like this in my world anymore. And even when there were dances in my world it's not like I ever got invites to any of them." Maybe that's the real reason you don't want to go out onto the floor, not that you can't dance. Deuce certainly isn't able to do things properly no matter how hard he is trying, and Ace is not even doing that. But you still don't quite feel like you... belong here, not after how big of a deal Crowley made out of your invitation being something he was "obliged" to give. "And I don't even know how to dance! I'll just step on everyone's feet and make things awkward."

"Hm, well then that's all the more reason for you to dance with me!" Ortho is... laughing? Not in a mean spirited way, but kindly. It's a soothing tone somehow, and as he mock bows you don't feel like he is intending on making you the butt of a joke at all. "I don't have any toes for you to step on, and if anyone you are uncomfortable with tries to make you dance I can just blow them up with my lasers."

"Uh maybe don't do that?" You gingerly take his hand and let the floating boy spin you around in a dance that's more similar to two children on a playground than a proper ballroom sway, but between just how happy he is and how quickly your other friends join in you cannot bring yourself to remain embarrassed for long.

"That's right prefect," Ortho whispers when he notices you have finally calmed down, "you aren't in your world anymore. And sometimes that probably sucks but tonight? It means that you are very much invited to the ball. Awesome right?!" He means that last bit about himself as much as he does you, you suppose but that doesn't make it any less true. Tonight, you are very much exactly welcome and where everyone wants you to be.

[the-ace-lesbians]

This may be a weird ask, I don’t usually ask folks stuff so feel free to ignore! But I have always known intellectually that I’m ace and I used to be able to identify more with that concept, but I feel like I don’t know how to accept it truly as a part of myself. Especially as I’ve gotten older and my peer group has aged and sex has gotten more normal. I know how to conceptualize it but I don’t know how to feel it and accept it without still feeling so other, if that makes sense? I haven’t ever really met anyone I’m able to relate to or talk about it with which makes it harder. Just looking for some advice or understanding. Thank you!

Hello! I don't think it's weird to ask at all, looking for a little advice from your community is a good thing, in my opinion, and the ask box is there for anyone to ask or share or anything like that!

I think accepting asexuality as an integral part of yourself is a hard thing to do. It's very, very much, for me, like the struggle for younger me to accept being a lesbian - I knew that it was true. I was happy to say it. But it didn't quite click in my soul for a while. I think, for being a lesbian, it was because of the state of society. Homophobia abound, comphet, the societal pressure to marry a man, and just general misogyny always implying men were the constant end goal in everything anyone deemed 'a woman' did, you know?

For being asexual, I feel a similar thing is true. Sex is everywhere, it's considered not only something that must be done, but that should be expected to see, engage in, revel in, surround yourself in. So when you exist outside of that overbearing concept, there's this inherent inability accept it inside yourself because it's like -

'Oh, here I am. Purposefully putting myself apart from others,'

Queer identities always feel othering because of our society, it's something I feel is just... integral to it all? I'm not saying to be queer is to be other, or different, or lonely, it's more like to be queer is to exist in a world where people will tell you it's other, different, and lonely, even if your lived experience is the opposite of, but anyone constantly being told that is going to have a sort of cognitive dissonance moment.

The feeling of loneliness or being othered is real. I dare say in many ways it's normal for asexuals, as well as any other queer identity. There have been many times where I wished I was simply not asexual because the ostracization from all directions is too much, I've even posted vent art I made about it on this blog.

I do understand you. Being asexual can sometimes feel like being stunted, or left behind, or just so intrinsically different from others that it's sort of a weird road block, and there's this question of, how do I embody something that sets me apart - at least, for me.

I'm not sure if any advice I can give you would help exactly, because everyone's own journey in accepting and being and internalizing who they are is different, and comes about in different ways. I can tell you that my personal journey for that was turning to sex positivity, learning about it, and in the end when I was even more disinterested in it for myself, I went, 'yeah, okay, so my boundaries and consent are always a hard no for this'. Once I had established a hard belief in consent and learned about the intricacies of sexual identity and the likes, the idea of where my own boundaries and interests sat really felt like just nothing.

It was like, okay, so, I'm not sexually attracted to anyone. Some people are mainly into feet, or balloons, or some other really specific niche - once I realized and accepted the variety and spectrum of human sexuality, the fact that I sat inside my own niche was just nothing out of the ordinary.

Of course, that was my own personal journey! It was also largely spurred on by being sex-averse (yeah, a sex-averse stone butch sex-positive asexual is a crazy mix), so this isn't a one size fits all solution, and maybe your own journey could come from a completely different thing. Maybe finding a specific label, or figuring out exactly where your lines are drawn, or acknowledging your sexuality online or to people you know in real life, can start making it feel more real, and more like you instead of a concept.

You'll have a community here regardless of where your journey is on the road, or how you got there, or where you end up, chief.

[fizzingwizard]

no one on here listens to me and that's right you shouldn't I'm the averagest of the average but i'm gonna yell random shit at you anyway, you faceless tumblr beings unfortunate enough to see this on your dash:

you don't need to be pretty or tall or have sculpted abs or a butt lift or fillers or expensive acne treatments. lots of people will tell you you do. lots of people are stupid as fuck. pick the people who don't care about this performative nonsense. we exist and we are legion

if you can't find this legion I speak of, and you're under 18, you live in a bubble. it's one of the most frustrating parts of childhood - not having the freedom to get out and go somewhere else when the place you're in doesn't meet your needs. look forward to the day that is inevitably coming when you will be free. then get yourself out!! don't give up on all the friends who would love to be around you before you've experienced how huge and diverse the real world is.

if you're doing online dating just post your own photos. no filters no edits. if even you would look at your made-up face and not recognize yourself, you risk attracting someone who won't be open to the real you. use your photos to convey your personality first and your looks second. when I met my boyfriend, my profile pic was me in my winter coat showing off a chocolate-dipped banana. somehow he managed to contain his revulsion and contact me. we've been together for 8 years.

if you feel pressured to have sex sooner than you want then don't have sex. be clear on that from the outset. don't be afraid that it will turn some people off. it will. they're not suited to you anyway. move on. despite the screeches of PUA-wannabe bros and self-appointed sex therapist gals on tiktok, neither men nor women are Thinking About Sex All The Time Wanting Sex All The Time Impossible To Have A Healthy Relationship Without Sex All The Time. like no that is bonkers, go touch grass. people are all different and you will find someone who suits you. that is unless you buy into the sex-centric lie and stop looking.

always always be your wisest self around alcohol and drugs. if you know your own limits, that's one thing. but if you're using them because you feel pressured to, that is an open door to all kinds of trouble. don't go to that frat party where it's common to get black-out drunk. don't let your crush convince you to do a bunch of tequila shots when you've never even had tequila before. there are actually a lot of people who have fun with no or limited alcohol and drugs. some of them play board games. some of them knit scarves for penguins. really cool people. i swear.

disingenuous men on the internet telling boys they are expendable and the world only loves women and women will never love them are LIARS who spread misery because they are themselves miserable. boys do not listen to them. you are worth every bit as much as any girl. listen to the men whose investment in the future outweighs their bitterness over the past. and we need to call out the cynics for the frauds that they are.

girls listen to boys when they try to talk to you about men's problems from a place of good faith (ie. it's not a front to abuse you). my father taught my brother "boys don't cry." my college boyfriend told me he hated being single because he didn't feel he could express his feelings with other guys. men are trying to figure out what masculinity means in the 21st century and for some of them women are the only ones they're comfortable talking to. be patient and understanding, but don't compromise your own safety or your convictions regarding the rights and needs of girls.

value your friends!! they are the ones who see You. my parents are divorced now and my dad moved across the street from his best friend of 40 years. when my dad had a stroke it was this best friend who came and got him and who continues to check in on him every day, even though he's got stuff of his own going on. in real life we are all people before we are labels and demographics. value the people who put their own humanity and yours first, because that's who will come pick you up off the floor at 2 in the morning, not Andrew Tate.

life is hard. but we make it so much harder by holding ourselves to other people's expectations. people always Talk Talk Talk. they have been talking since the beginning of time. the best thing you can do for yourself AND for the whole world is tune them out. close the app. turn off your phone. go on a picnic with a blue-haired liberal and a hillbilly in a MAGA hat. have a great fucking time. you are so much freer than you know

yah.................. i hate to say it but the tl; dr is just live love laugh. geez

[ruanbaijie]

um ok so i have a backlog of tag games (I love them okay I just take very long to get back to them 🥲) so instead of answering them one by one and spamming everyone's dashboards, I'm gonna smash all of them together to create one HUGE tag game

tagged by @thitiponqs [x] [x] and @asterdust [x]

presenting:

nine albums or songs I've been listening to lately x nine people I’d like to get to know better x tag game with no name

1. why did you choose your url? i mean, look at him. what a bitch (affectionate).

2. any sideblogs? if you have them name them and why you have them. nope this place is a dumping ground

3. how long have you been on tumblr? october 2010 *awkward monkey meme*

4. do you have a queue tag? luQiao - which is the most common question i get 🌚

5. why did you start your blog in the first place? my friends were mentioning it (this was during blogging heyday and everyone was on blogspot) and i was like cool what is it let's check it out and uh i've been here ever since

6. why did you choose your icon/pfp? i wanted to something red + black (my favourite colours) to go with the overall ✨ aesthetic ✨ and xia zhiguang just happened to have this ridiculously out of this world badass modern wuxia-esque photoshoot with a red and black theme so

7. why did you choose your header? because hua chenyu is an AMAZING singer and god it's on my bucket list to attend his concert live

8. what’s your post with the most notes? this rainbow edit for jjk [x]

9. how many mutuals do you have? um so i keep an excel sheet that lists all my mutuals including main blogs (if the mutual blog is a side blog), names, what i tag their posts by, and tracked tags. said list is currently at *checks list* 288 🌚

10. how many followers do you have? 5.4k+

11. how many people do you follow? 455 but i think a lot are inactive 😭

12. have you ever made a shitpost? oh yes this is one example which i did for shl [x] and which got reposted on instagram (ugh) and i made them take it down yes i still remember it

13. how often do you use tumblr each day? too much

14. did you have a fight/argument with another blog once? yeah a whole episode that involved death threats instant report and block

15. how do you feel about ‘you need to reblog this’ posts people don't have to reblog every single thing but at the same time this is tumblr the reblog place don't just like things all the time without reblogging yknow

16. do you like tag games? YES i can be very long-winded i love them a lot

17. do you like ask games? yes but i get worried that people don't send in anything at all and i'm just talking to myself so i don't do them

18. which of your mutuals do you think is tumblr famous? definitely you @thitiponqs 💕

19. do you have a crush on a mutual? eh no i don't crush on people easily? and i probably need to meet that person in real life before any crushing happens

20. what is the last song you listened to? currently having blaze of clear sky (the insert song of episode 19 of the apothecary diaries) on repeat for DAYS now it's so good and it makes me want to cry

21. what are you currently watching? the apothecary diaries, yatagarasu, dededede, the king's avatar donghua season 3, isekai shikkaku, meet you at the blossom

22. sweet/ savoury/ spicy? SWEET

23. what is your current relationship status? single (anyone wanna date lol)

24. what is your current obsession? THE APOTHECARY DIARIES i'm so sorry i'm so late to this game but also STILL NOT OVER the spirealm it still causes me a lot of pain and rips my heart out and stuffs glass shards down my throat on a daily basis

25. what are nine albums/ songs you've been listening to lately?

齐天（华晨宇）- equal to heaven (hua chenyu)

双节棍（华晨宇）- nunchucks (hua chenyu)

斗牛（华晨宇）- bull fighting (hua chenyu)

麒麟（早安）- qilin (zaoan)

星星（早安）- stars (zaoan)

乡下来的（玖壹壹）- from the countryside (nine one one)

abyss (yungblud)

gento (sb19)

blaze of clear sky (takenaka daichi)

26. tagging (no pressure!) @alienwlw @lianhuajing @guzhufuren @miwtual @kolomo

@xiaobaosnoona @naughtynanzhu @mokacheer @alicenthighstower