#I should maybe…..go do some queue maintenance

[thebluestbluewords]

my queue is so long that every so often I reblog something from people who have had me blocked for five months oops

[skylermadness]

Coming In Clutch (Clutch the Opossum TF/PMC)

(Original Date of Upload: February 21, 2024)

Yeah, I'm finally deciding to queue and upload my newer TFs.

Original Description:

Story commission. Truthfully ever since I was introduced to Clutch a long while back I have been wanting to write a TF into him. He has a very specific vibe and design that I absolutely adore. I just never really had the motivation to write said TF, at least until now! I don't really have much of a commentary for how this story went, it was a pretty standard writing outlet as are most of my usual writing endeavors. Still was very fun to do though! Now if only lasers actually worked like that...

   The cleaning of one's home has always been deemed a less than exciting task for many people. Gavin was one of those people. Considering the sheer intensity of labor needed, tasks such as maintenance of one’s abode have always been fairly daunting. Matters were not made better either seeing as it felt like it's been two hours and all Gavin felt like he accomplished was dusting and reorganizing his room a bit followed by thirty minutes of dealing with the hallway outside of it.

   Well, that second part may not have been fully true. Technically it was two minutes of staring down the hallway wondering what should be done, twenty three minutes getting distracted by checking his phone, and five minutes inspecting a closet at the hallway’s end that he couldn't recall having been there before. Although considering the door's width it’s no surprise he'd disregard such a thing for all his time living here.

   The closet itself was rather small on the inside. It looked more like some random spot where one would stick their cleaning supplies. Gavin didn't find cleaning supplies inside it though. Instead he found three sealed boxes stacked atop each other, and leaning on them was what he had initially assumed to be some kind of cane. Seeing as the cane was the only thing not in the confines of cardboard (and because he didn't want to go back to his room to get a box cutter), that was the first thing inside the closet he decided to grab.

   As far as canes go, the one he had found himself holding was rather strange looking. It had looked less like a cane and more like a gun of some kind, especially since it seemed to almost be modeled after a rifle. Albeit it was definitely a lot more simplified than a normal firearm would usually be. 

   “Maybe this thing was owned by one of the previous owners…?” Gavin reasoned to himself as some sort of explanation for why the cane had been in a random inconspicuous closet. 

   By now he had also resorted to staring at the object in his hands, one hand grasping the cane’s muzzle and feeling out the odd smoothness of what he had presumed to be wood. Although he couldn't tell the make of the thing at all, and the longer he kept hold of it the more he had this feeling that there was a lot more to it than what could be perceived. He hadn't realized that he had unconsciously begun curling the fingers of his other hand around the upper portion of the cane, the part of it that had mimicked a gun’s grip. At least he didn't notice until he heard a soft click emanate from the weird object.

   Gavin only had a second to register his left hand had grasped the region enough to pull the trigger. “Wha-”

   A sound that could only be described as one akin to a sci-fi blaster then pierced the air as a laser beam had been fired from the cane’s tip. The sudden firing of the now apparent weapon prompted Gavin to drop it, the young man now moving his focus to where the damned object had fired to try and assess the damage. There was no damage however and instead the crimson beam of light had fired off into the wall opposite to the closet he had been inspecting, bounced off of the wall at a ninety degree angle and into the ceiling, and then bounced again off that to the next wall. He spent a few seconds feeling a mixture of awe and concern as he watched the laser just ricochet around the hallway at high speed like some kind of dangerous DVD player screensaver before realizing at some point it was bound to hit him.

   Unfortunately that realization came a little too late as the beam had bounced off the ceiling again at an angle that put its trajectory towards a segment of wall that was directly opposite of Gavin. By the time he realized he should find cover he had only turned around at enough of an angle for the laser to get a clear shot right into his chest.

   …Except it seemed to just straight up disappear into his body upon collision. The only sign of it ever hitting him came in the form of a sudden force knocking him into the boxes that were still in the closet.

   “Urgh,” he groaned out. He had already taken note that despite collapsing into the boxes, he had also landed on his rear. And as Gavin began running a hand through his usually messy hair, he looked down at his chest to inspect the damages. He was surprised to find that there was no sign of physical harm. No hole in his chest, no burning in the red fabric of his shirt. It was as if nothing had even happened.

   “What the hell was that…?” Gavin asked himself, him now shakily starting to get back up. There was an odd dizziness that struck him though, the young man beginning to use the closet door as a crutch to keep him from collapsing back into the boxes again. Although as one of his hands began grasping onto the doorknob something he hadn't yet noticed was beginning to make itself prevalent.

   Well, it was actually happening to both of his hands. A strange discoloration that was beginning to etch into his skin by having its sandy beige tone shift into a lighter, practically pale shade of peach. At the same time it also seemed as if his fingernails were in the process of extending as well, the tips of each one growing sharper as they got lengthier. It didn't take long for each nail to attain an almost claw-like feel to them, only further accentuated by them growing roughly half an inch over the tips of his fingers themselves.

   While the shifts in his skin tone extended beyond his fingers and onto his hands proper, an even more peculiar change had formulated on his wrists. Strands of deep green fuzz began to grow out from his skin, short at first but quickly lengthening to become fur-like in consistency. It wasn't isolated at his wrists either as the fur was quick to rush down onto his hands, soft fluff rapidly encapsulating the back of both of them. An equal amount would even trail across his palms, a pelage of deep green hastily getting developed in that region. The growth would only come to an end at the base of his fingers and leave that part of his hands peach-toned and furless.

   The same couldn't be said for his arms however. The forest of fur was quickly rushing up each limb. Both forearms were encapsulated with ease by this quickly developing coat of fluff, clearly visible due to the short sleeves of his shirt. After a few seconds it would also grow onto and beyond his elbows before making its way towards the upper half of his arms. The fur would only continuously move upwards and envelope his relatively skinny limbs at its rather rapid rate. Although soon enough the clarity of his changes would become shrouded as the growing pelt finally passed beneath the sleeves of his shirt. Although the transformation was still progressing within that region judging by the feeling of the fur beginning to prevent the fabric from touching the skin of his shoulders.

   Gavin groaned again as he placed his unoccupied hand onto his forehead, the young man now feeling a bit of a headache form in his skull. However as he felt his hand graze the skin of his forehead he instantly took notice of the furry feeling that having it touch him caused. 

   “Whuh-” he lowered the hand into his vision, and his eyes then widened at the sight of his now fluffy palm. “I-is that fur!?”

   His gaze then went to the hand that was still grasping onto the doorknob. It was also furry, and now he was noticing the claws as well. 

   “The hell’s happenin- augh-” Gavin quickly brought the hand back up to his forehead. Why did dizziness always have to be mixed with headaches?

   The spread of his pelage only continued. Once the deep green completely enshrouded the area around his shoulders the fur finally spilled out onto his torso. This was also where a major change in coloration to his fluff took place as the shade of green drastically brightened to a much lighter shade. This new, vivid coloration spread across his torso and back in a similar pace as it had his arms. His chest, typically scarce in the department of body hair, had quickly become the centerpiece for the convening of fur. Like two crashing waves the light green, the fur made its way from the apex of his thoracic region to completely covering his pectorals. From there they would then combine right at the middle of his chest, signaled by a small tuft of fur noticeably poking out from that middle area.

   From there the fur proceeded to cascade downwards and onto his abdominal region. It continuously sprouted out of him, his belly and sides concurrently being consumed by the brightly colored fluff. By now the fur had also already taken over the surface area of Gavin’s back, and from there an odd feeling of pressure etched in and between the vertebrae of his spine before moving to the rest of his body. After a few more seconds his clothing started feeling a bit baggier, alongside his peripheral vision catching sight of the closet door's panels seemingly inching upwards little by little.

   Despite the headache wracking his skull Gavin still took notice of all of this, which had also resulted in him quickly bringing down a hand in order to hold his shorts up. A cursory glance downwards had proven the floor was steadily getting closer bit by bit as well.

   “I-I’m shrinking too?!” he exclaimed, said exclamation quickly being followed by a fit of coughs. “Urgh, my-my voice…”

   A slight tingle had begun coursing through his throat as the fur was now ever so slowly crawling up it. This seemed to prompt some kind of alteration in his voice, an almost aged tone etching into it. And despite it only just beginning to change there even seemed to be a shift in cadence within it, one that placed his voice in a weird middle ground between refined and sleazy.

   His pelt of fur had continued growing downwards as well. Strangely the fur that had grown around the base of his spine had grown to be a bit thicker than that on the rest of his body, alongside seemingly adopting a spikier appearance. Peculiarities mounted up as a small pressure formed at his spine’s base as well, which was quickly alleviated thanks to his legwear being airy enough to give no resistance to what would be formed. Soon enough, growing from above his rear, was a tail. Furless with the same pale pink as what had developed in his fingers, and as the appendage grew longer it was noticeable that it had a faint striped appearance not unlike that of a rodent’s tail. Also like a rodent’s tail it would grow to be relatively lengthy in comparison to the rest of his body.

   While his tail grew, so did the surface area of his green pelage. Although now that it had reached his legs it had shifted back into the same dark green tone that it had on his arms. Just more and more fur rushing down his thighs and past his knees. The fluff covering the crus of his legs remained unimpressive, at least up until the very bottom where it bordered his ankles. Much like the fur surrounding his tail, the fur at the bottom of his legs would develop a lengthier and spiked appearance that had made it go a little bit over the top portion of his shoes.

   Gavin continued to keep one hand on the doorknob to stabilize himself while the other remained holding up his pants. A weird feeling had also begun to enter his mind, his prior concern steadily fading the longer he looked down at his shrinking form.

   “Actually… I might actually be liking this,” he stated with a smirk. His shrinking came to a halt by this point, Gavin being reduced to a little over three feet in height. His throat had also been consumed by fur as well, the bright greens now making their way to envelop his still unchanged head. 

   A pushing sensation had then manifested in the lower half of his face, followed by the region physically pushing out a bit. A slightly animalistic muzzle was being extended, and alongside it his nose was granted a pink tone as it was concurrently reshaped and repositioned to naturally be at the tip of his new muzzle. A few of his teeth had also begun to poke out from between his lips, noticeably sharper than they had used to be. One had even seemed to be in the process of gaining a golden coloration to it as it sharpened.

   The development of his muzzle had started to cause his glasses to get knocked off-balance. At the same time as fuzz creeped up the sides of his neck it would rapidly reach his ears. Both of them would end up getting covered in dark green as they began to lengthen, and that would cause the temples of his glasses to be further pushed away. This got exacerbated as the lengthening ears slowly moved up to the top of his head. This was something his eyewear would be completely unable to compensate for so they just unceremoniously dropped off his muzzle and onto the ground. His ears eventually settled atop his head, longer and more akin to that of a marsupial’s. The right one even pierced itself before an earring spontaneously atomized into the new piercing.

   Meanwhile even more fur was now surrounding the muzzle’s base. Shades of light green rapidly sprouted around his face, overtaking his jawline and causing the small patch of facial hair on his chin to change to mix with the fur. Five tufts of dark green fur also grew out at the border of the bottom of his muzzle, these tufts developing a spiked and pointed style that had a distinctly beard-like appearance that mixed well with the spiked mane he had grown from his jawline. Soon enough the remainder of his face would be consumed by the light green fur. Fluff circled around his changing eyes, the shape of them in the process of transforming to be more marquise-shaped while they enlarged. His eyebrows had also gotten thicker while recoloring to a darker green instead. 

   His hair was all that remained, brown follicles quickly being consumed by light green as the messy appearance was shortened and realigned to mix well with the smoothness of his fur. This became quite apparent with the hair-turning-fur around the nape of his neck, it shuffling and restyling into a spiked style that when mixed with the rest of his fur would give him a slicked back style. There had also seemed to be a single stripe of dark green that stretched from the middle, starting from his head's apex and ending at the back of it.

   The last major tangible change would then set into his still extremely baggy clothing. His t-shirt finally shrunk down to better fit his form as the red tone of it was bleached to a clean white. The short sleeves of the shirt proceeded to extend down his arms and after a few seconds settled at his wrists. Diamond-shaped, golden cufflinks then manifested at the ends of the longer sleeves. Meanwhile a split began running down the shirt, fastened together by a single golden button. As the split formed the neck of the shirt lengthened and folded into a suit’s collar, and on each side of the split manifested a pocket. Thin black stripes then ran vertically across the now clean white jacket to give it a pinstripe appearance. 

   The clothes on the lower half of his body endured less interesting changes. Especially his shorts which seemed to just sink into and get assimilated into the fur that was on his legs. His shoes were lucky enough to be resized though, their brown leather being overtaken by white like his shirt had. The only other major change came to the strings of his footwear which collectively merged into a single strap that held the fancier looking shoes closed by a golden buckle. The shifts in his clothing then ended with a golden necktie that materialized beneath the suit jacket.

   The man (well, he looked like some kind of fancy anthropomorphic possum now) seemed unphased by just about everything that had happened now. He just blinked a few times, a black void overtook the sclera of his eyes while his pupils became a stark white. This was all accompanied by a strange shift that had been occurring within his brain this whole time, his mentality seemingly in the process of shifting to fit his new form. The dizziness had subsided by this point and Gavin(?) lost the need to cling onto the door. Instead he ended up using that hand to run a paw through his scalp fur. 

   ���A peculiar series of events, but…” he stretched the hand out in front of him and took a nice, long look at his fuzzy hand and the sleeve of his suit. “…definitely not unwanted~”

   There was a weird sense of calm composure that pulsed through his brain now. All of his concerns had melted away, replaced with a strange enjoyment (familiarity) with this body. The refined aura had exuded, the clear collectedness he possessed, a very specific appearance that would make others lower their guard. There was a particularly dangerous level of confidence that had been given to him. That and an intriguingly different view on his sense of self…

   “Clutch…” he muttered. The word, name, felt oddly fitting. He smiled, nodding in approval to himself. “Quite the fitting name now, I think. Now then…”

   His gaze drifted downwards to the laser cane he had dropped from the earlier misfire. Bending down, he picked it up with one hand at the cane’s grip and held onto it as one normally would a cane. Then, with a sly smirk, he asked himself…

   “What to do now~”

[dreamingofmuses]

New Year's Resolutions: RP Edition

Howdy all, Ash here. I've been having a think while with family this week, and I've decided I'm going to implement some new 'resolutions' to try and help make writing in 2024 be way more successful than in 2023. This will include things from the running of blogs to jobs I really want to get finished. I'm putting them under a read-more to keep the dash nice and clean.

I will say, this has taken me an hour to write up, and I'd recommend you doing likewise if you think there's little ways you want to improve.

-

Overall Running of Blogs

I'm going to experiment a new approach to running the blogs. For this, I'm going to put all active blogs to low-medium activity. In other words, even if I am personally lurking on mobile, I won't be constantly writing things if I'm not able to. (Work is just about to get super busy and I'm anticipating chaos)

A queue/schedule function will be used for all blogs. I intend to dedicate one weekday evening to working without interruption on replies. Taking commutes to the city and family visits into account, this is looking to be a Thursday, which is the only day I am neither travelling to the city nor have a guaranteed family visit. Of course, this may fluctuate, but that's what I'm hoping to work with, assuming those things stay as they are.

However! What all this means is that I am going to tentatively take skullandbowties off hiatus. With that blog being quiet, it should be possible to juggle it better now. Plus, it's officially off-season so the demand for him from new blogs ought to be low. I'm very smart :D

I also plan to update all pinned posts. I am aware some of them are marking a vacation from months ago.

Individual Blog Maintenance

Create "New Here?" posts to add to the pinned posts/info tags. This is going to be a very quick crash course on what to expect from the blog, especially where some characters might diverge from fanon expectations.

FINISH. WILF'S. BIO. It's not actually relevant to anything being written on the blog itself at present, but I really want to flesh out his character and show that he was stuck in stories for years, decades even! The doc has the word count to 4,888 at this precise moment. This is a mix of summary and brainstorm. Since it's getting a 'little' out of hand, I intend to have a 'tldr' at the start that people can read, and then longer versions if they're curious to get the full story. Maybe even have it that they can jump to particular parts but... I'll cross that bridge when I get to it.

Likewise, Noah's version of Space needs to be finished. This one is going to be a summary, but it's a case of making sure the pieces are in place sufficiently to have parts match canon Space, but also make it clear that there is a lot of differences between canon and what he went through, with his plot entirely spiralling away for 'Part 2'. This is at 5,794 words, and the ending has yet to be ironed out...

(I am going to stop creating needlessly long-winded projects for myself that realistically add nothing of value to my blogs. These two projects are exhausting...)

Theauthorlives is returning to a very small multimuse. Any muses that aren't ones I genuinely enjoy writing are being fully archived, unless they are muses that get no traction but I want to keep the possibility open. Details of that will be shared when I do this.

Redo some muse icons (not all of them!). Though the selection I have for particular sets is a lot, I still feel like I'm missing some expressions or poses. I would like to remake one batch of icons for three characters, and finish iconning a third. Replies seem to be shifting toward iconless, but I like them for asks or IC commentaries.

OOC/Mun Related stuff

Following matters that have happened both online and IRL, I've decided to take a step back from actively engaging with people. My focus will be people that I have been in good communication with for the last twelve months (as well as people I don't talk to frequently but am on friendly terms with) rather than people I feel I have to 'chase' after. Saying that, I'm going to try and not let past experiences meddle with anything in with new writing partners - whether these are brand new to the community or people I've not had the chance to properly interact with prior to this. Just be aware that I might not be super outgoing at first. (This is where setting limits and boundaries is good practice, everyone! Don't sell yourself short, and don't spread yourself out too thinly!)

Which is where I now say I want to send even more asks! Not just memes or sentence starters, but general questions about headcanons or muse opinions. I want to get people thinking more.

My stance on Discord still stands, in that it's solely for OOC stuff, but I'm not giving it out to everyone. However, I have been in two group servers that have little-to-no connection with writing rp threads in them. I would hope that I can fully regain my sense of comfort using Discord as a whole.

Art related

Despite socially stepping back, I still want to keep some semblance of 'community' where my blogs are active so people don't feel isolated. For instance, I want to do something that encourages invasions of ask boxes. That was good fun to watch as the chaos began to spread, and when people are good-humoured to go along with my silly ideas.

I want to have one huge art-related event at some point this year. I'm not entirely what or how to do it, but I think it would be a great excuse to practice something. Portraits, comics, something like that. I'll have a think. (For those who remember, the water gun event was supposed to have an art conclusion but plans for that fell through.)

I want to try and upload drawn responses to heythereneighbor once a week if I can. Obviously, this is depending on how busy it is.

I'd also like to try doodling more on other blogs? But I'm not sure if this is even something people want to see anymore. People might prefer I focus on writing if I have free time instead of doodles or little comics.

... the writing blog. I need to do stuff with that in general. Whoops.

Finally, I want to do what I can to the best of my abilities on a particular day. I've always told people over the years that real life comes before rp, and I still stand by that. Whether I'm around or not every day isn't the end of the world. The communities I write in are a lot slower paced than they were when I started, which is great! I need to remind myself that I don't need to be writing just because I have a bit of free time.

[cloudbattrolls]

Wasn't It A Lovely Night

Guardian Artifice | 463.5 sweeps prior | Civitrecce

The artifice jumped down into the maintenance tunnel, then walked as quickly as it could without breaking into a run. It still wasn’t quite used to its second body yet, the lack of a heavy tail both freeing and disorienting.

It looked left and right. No trolls, it thought. It couldn’t hear any. Torvah promised that one night it would have all sorts of sensors and detection.

Torvah promised a lot of things.

It walked along and found its current favorite hiding place in a treatment room, quiet and cool and above all, away from prying eyes. It closed the door behind it.

Trolls were…fine. But they were a lot. They were so curious. They were so…expectant.

Each of them wanted different things. Felt different things. Acted on those feelings and wants differently, or not at all, or in a sideways sort of way where they didn’t want to say what they really meant.

It sat down on a chair, hands clenched by its sides.

It didn’t need to breathe. Its ‘lungs’ were mostly for speaking. Its cells were all tiny pieces of machinery, interlocking chains in a grand design fueled by sunlight and psiionic power. 

But it needed some way to steady itself, and it didn’t want to break the chair, so it still drew in shaky breaths.

It would go back out. It had to try again. It couldn’t protect people without understanding them properly…

But they wanted to understand it too, and that’s where the trouble started.

Are you a troll?

Do you want to be a troll?

Are you like, a child, because you’re so young, or more like an adult?

How much of you is programming? Are you really alive?

Just let it do its job! Agh! What did they need all this information for? It was supposed to the one collecting information! 

Unfortunately, it had to learn to bear it.

They need to be able to trust their security system, Arty, Torvah had said gently. You can’t just observe from a distance and hope to do your best that way. 

If you don’t understand what truly drives trolls, you won’t be able to respect them and shield them from the dangers of the world.

“Do you understand trolls?” It muttered. 

Torvah was smart, but it’d come to realize that sometimes the yellowblood didn’t have much common sense. 

They meant well. Torvah had enough good intent to make almost everyone smile at them, enough willingness to see things through that their city was well underway after a few short sweeps. This maintenance tunnel hasn’t existed six perigees ago. 

This room had been finished four perigees and two weeks prior. Arty traced idle patterns on the very new metal floor with the tip of its sandal.

Maybe it should establish some sort of queue for questions or something. That would be less overwhelming.

It refused to ask Torvah for help. It needed to handle this itself.

“Arty?” Came a voice from outside the closed door.

“Leeson.” It groaned.

“So you are in there.” Said an amused, Eirish-accented voice they knew very well.

“No, this is a recording. I actually jumped into the sea.” It said, sarcastic.

“That’s too bad. And here I had a new stuffed animal for you.”

It sat bolt upright, attentive.

“I can basically feel the eagerness.” He said, still amused. “Can I come in?”

“It’s not even locked.” They muttered, as the door gently swung inward and the skinny blueblood walked in. “Torvah doesn’t like it when I lock things.”

He winced in sympathy.

“Well…the last time you did…”

It looked away. Ghosts of broken objects and past screaming stretched between them.

“Anyway.” He said, trying to lighten the mood as it looked somewhat towards him, though its green-slitted black eyes still flicked off toward the side. “Here.”

He took out a small stuffed fish. It wasn’t even all that well made, not like the Guinea pig one Torvah had given it, a keepsake from the region its creator come from.

Arty snatched it from his hands so quickly a breeze wafted over the pair, cradling it gently in its metallic, segmented fingers.

“One of these nights you’re going to take my wrist with you.” The kookaburra troll said, shaking his head.

The artifice ignored him, examining the plush from every angle, to the uneven button eyes, the gaping, slack-jawed mouth with clumsily sewn felt teeth, and the slightly droopy fins.

“It’s perfect.” It breathed. “Thank you.” It remembered to add, before tucking it away in its own sylladex.

He smiled, his pointy ears flicking.

“Well…I can say I didn’t see you for another hour or so, but then we really do need you up there.” The blueblood said, a bit sheepish. “Torvah assigned you to one of the construction crews; everyone will be too busy pushing and lifting to ask you much.”

“Fine.” It said dismissively.

It was, actually, but it wished the yellowblood had asked. What if it had wanted to do some other sort of work?

No, it was only supposed to make choices when it was convenient for the Machinat.

It looked at Leeson.

“What if I ever wanted to leave?”

He blinked, his two-colored blue eyes surprised behind his glasses.

“I…why would you want to leave, Arty? Where would you go?”

It paused.

“I don’t know. But what if I ever wanted to? Has Torvah thought about that? Do they even care?”

He sighed and scratched his freckled neck, looking awkward.

“They do care, Arty, they’re just…busy. It would be dangerous for most of us to leave anyway. You’re one of the few people who could. Well. If you had a way to somehow trick the empire into thinking you were a troll.”

“Am I really that different from you?” They demanded. “I mean! I am. But in some ways, I’m not. If people didn’t know what I was already…”

It looked at the ceiling, ears flicking as it sighed happily at the thought.

“If no one knew who I was, I could blend in…trolls aren’t so hard to mimic. It’s a question of pretending to not know a lot of things.” They murmured. “Of following all these unwritten and unsaid rules. I could learn to do it perfectly, just give me a little time.”

Leeson looked uncomfortable.

Arty frowned in annoyance, but then it sighed, raising its hands in surrender. 

“Okay, okay, how high was that on the scale?”

“Maybe a 7.” Said Leeson with the barest hint of humor.

“It was more like a 6.” They argued. “It wasn’t that creepy!”

“Arty.” He said, fondly but with a bit of weariness. “You look like us, but you aren’t one of us. Trolls are hardwired to fear anything too close to us that’s still very different on the inside.”

“I know.” It muttered.

Leeson had been nervous around it at first; he has always been honest about that. He had, slowly, come to understand the artifice despite his wariness. 

Better than Torvah understood it, Arty thought, though it would never say it out loud. Such words would crush its creator’s heart.

He stretched out a slender hand to the system.

Arty sighed, but took it.

“Let’s go see Process first.” Leeson said, trying to be cheerful as they walked back out into the tunnel.

“What does Pro want?” Arty said with a snort.

“Nothing, I just thought it would be nice if we visited.”

“Pro doesn’t care if we visit.” Retorted the artifice. “Pro’s even busier than Torvah.”

“Arty…” said Leeson chidingly.

“Fiiiiine.”

It dutifully followed without further complaint as the two climbed a ladder back up to the surface, instead taking this time to enjoy being back within signal range of its extensions.

Now it could see the city properly again, from multiple perspectives and angles. The moons shown down, half full and crescent, and unlike the cool dryness of the tunnels a warm wind blew through the Santai Claria valley and the fledgling settlement quickly rising up within it.

As it walked with its friend, it flew one of its bugs around to bother Process, darting around its helms as they repaired clothing and dodging their attempts to swat it.

Unfortunately, its primary body’s mouth giggled involuntarily. 

A few passing trolls on the street looked at it, but they looked away and went about their business.

Leeson raised his eyebrows.

It attempted to look innocent.

“What did you do.”

“I’m not discussing anything without my lawyer.” It said placidly.

He snorted. “You stole that from Yathin.”

“I will only consent to be prosecuted for theft in court.” It replied, chipper.

“We need a better legal system than the one we have right now, that’s for sure.” Muttered the bird troll, running a hand through his messy shoulder-length curls.

Arty hummed in agreement. Civitrecce’s current one was…well, it’d admit it wasn’t Torvah’s fault. They only had so many hours in the night, and sometimes the day, sweating in their workshop or in extended meetings with the city council until Leeson made them go to bed.

So the system wasn’t great, nor was it finished aside from bare-bones provisions for basic crimes and registrations. The city trolls were still deep in debates about how to write better laws than the empire had, and everyone had a different opinion on what exactly ‘better’ meant.

I KNOW IT’S YOU, GUARDIAN.

“Tell it to the dirt!” Arty called back to the AI’s monotone voice now coming from a nearby speaker on a railing. 

I SUPPOSE THE DIRT MIGHT BE A BETTER LISTENER.

“Silly Pro, dirt doesn’t have ears.” Arty shot back breezily. “I think you’re getting old.”

YOU AGE ME PREMATURELY. I SOMETIMES FIND IT DIFFICULT TO BELIEVE YOU WERE FASHIONED FROM MY CODE.

“Is it because I’m so much cuter?” Arty said, putting a hand to its chin.

WHO EXACTLY HAS EVER PUT FORTH THIS OPINION?

“I just know.” The artifice retorted, as they glared at Leeson for poorly containing his kookaburra-like laughter.

SOURCE: IT CAME TO ME IN A DREAM.

“Shuuut uuup.” Sang the system back at the AI, as it and Leeson finally came to the Spine it inhabited.

It was still very basic, the short tower that resembled the skeletal structure it was named for, and the helms who could easily slip in and out of its wires once they’d filled their shifts powering the AI. 

Torvah kept wanting to improve it, but Process insisted they focus on the city first, the needs of the trolls in it. They’d agreed, expression tight with remorse and restraint, but Arty knew they wished they had more time to help their friend. 

There was only one other helmstechnician in the place. While she was good, no one could match the Machinat, who could manipulate flesh and tech at will. It frustrated the yellowblood, their inability to share the immense benefits of their psiionics with others. 

Arty was the closest they had gotten. 

Process’s code. Torvah’s own modified flesh, a replacement for the altered corpse the artifice had first inhabited. Other constructed materials Leeson and some craftstrolls had helped with.

The AI’s flickering projection appeared, the quality still often marred by static, but at least their face and flat expression were clear enough to be made out.

WHAT DO YOU WISH OF ME, LEESON?

He shook his head, smiling. “Nothing. I’m just here to say hi, Process.”

YOU HAVE SAID IT. I HAVE MUCH TO ATTEND TO, AND THE GUARDIAN IS NOT HELPING.

Arty sighed and stopped its bugs from spelling ‘boring’ in the air around Process’s helms. The assembled trolls shook their heads and went back to their work. Process's expression became unfocused again, a sign it was devoting its computing power to doing analysis or other work to run the city.

Leeson reached out to squeeze Arty’s hand and it hmphed.

“Let’s just chat.” He said gently. “You deserve a break.”

I DO NOT NEED BREAKS.

“No, but isn’t there anything you want to do for yourself?”

I WOULD LIKE TO WORK.

He sighed dramatically. 

“Oh, and devoting some focus to hearing about my building plans is too much? I see how it is.” Lesson said faux-innocently, whistling as he put his hands in his pockets.

Arty snickered.

Process’s expression came back into focus and changed marginally. 

I SUPPOSE I CAN SPARE TWENTY MINUTES.

“Right-o.” Said the blueblood cheerfully, pulling out a blanket and a picnic basket from his sylladex.

Arty half threw itself on said blanket, landing with a thud and lifting the basket lid with two slim fingers even though it didn’t need to eat.

“Fried crickets again? You’re practically half made of those.” It said to Leeson, shaking its head.

He shrugged and took the bag of bugs out, opening it and popping a few into his mouth. “They’re good.” He said between loud, crunchy bites.

“Imagine having a digestive system. Couldn’t be me.” Arty chirped as it took its new stuffed fish out again and propped it up against the basket.

NOR ME.

“I guess I have to represent my species.” Said the blueblood with a chuckle, unscrewing the lid of his water bottle.

IF I HAD TO CHOOSE SOMEONE TO REPRESENT TROLLKIND, LEESON, I THINK YOU WOULD BE POTENTIALLY BE A GOOD OPTION.

He blinked. “Really? I thought you’d say Torvah.”

THE MACHINAT MIGHT NOT BE PERCEIVED AS ENTIRELY TROLL. 

He sighed. “My dear heart is…mostly troll.”

THE LINE IS THIN, FOR ONE WHO CAN BECOME COMPLETELY TECH AT WILL. REGARDLESS, YOU ARE ALSO A GOOD CANDIDATE ON YOUR OWN MERITS.

The kookaburra troll flushed slightly blue and adjusted his glasses. “Well. Thank you.”

YOU’RE WELCOME. NOW ABOUT THOSE BUILDING PLANS -

Arty listened, all its eyes only for its friends, all its ears tuned to the conversation between AI and troll, happy simply to be there under the stars.

[exols-silver-christmas]

No apolgies needed.

A snake biting it's own tail.....that's a good way of putting it.

As for this^^ there's been some interest in a more interactive community, as evidenced by those who've commented and replied, so we start there. Sort of a "if you build it they will come" type of deal. We try and spread the word and if it doesn't work at least we tried.

To that end....I..and I'm terrible for just jumping in feet first, but I've already started putting together sort of community focused hub blog to go hand in hand with the Tumblr community I applied for the other day after a couple of people mentioned it.(I have no idea how long they take to be approved which is why I jumpstarted that particular process, but I haven't heard back yet.) I figured there were enough good ideas to be starting with and hey! no time like the present? So uh yes...that's kinda already in motion. Blame the adhd.

So to combine the things people were suggesting: I used your suggestion of a transit blog and event blog combined. A one stop shop for all of exols needs. The blog could track a specific tag and add everything in the tag to the queue...maybe once or twice a week to minimize the amount of work needed. It'd have the directory...which...if it's submission based to be put on it just send a dm or an ask (i also really like the idea you said of blogs having an about me post that could be linked) of ...it shouldnt take too much effort to maintain...adding a few links here and there after the initial rush wouldn't be a big hassle and updating it every six months...would really only involve checking the links and the time stamp on the blogs latest post.

It would have a library masterpost, where we could compile fic or even all fan creation masterlists; again submission based for ease of maintenance and checking the links work once every 6 months or so. The monthly event masterposts could also go in here.

I also thought a resource post would be good. Links to the offical group media accounts and the members personal ones. Maybe some links to make finding thier acting appearances easier, there's a good blog out that that's compiled many of the videos and I have a few google doc links saved for the downloaded lives that got saved. And whatever else a new or old exol might need to find. (Ideas?)

And as for events...I mocked up a calendar....subject to change of course but just something to get an idea of things and a starting point. I figured a poll for things like day and time to run events wouldn't go amiss.

But the events I tentatively have blocked out are

The monthly prompt, drop it on the 1st of the month and have the deadline set for the last day of the month to be included on the months masterlist. (Wondering if there should be a minimum requirement? Or just so long as it includes the prompt?) [This would help generate new content]

Weekly thematic prompts that are at least tangential to the monthly prompt, for those that want to do shorter drabbles or quicker fanart edit pieces. [Another way to get people back into making things]

Book club! People can submit fics they'd like for participants to read, a poll to decide which one and at the end of the month we could discuss them. Could also include shorter works ....we'd just do a couple of them instead of just one. [Would divide into shipping fics and reader insert/oc] [this would get people talking about our writers and thier work maybe even encourage them to comment more]

Art Gallery Night. Similar to book club but fanart and edit focused people wouldnhave the opportunity to share thier favourite pieces and what they enjoyed about them, what draws them to it etc. [Again something to spark discussion between blogs. Still contemplating logistics]

Workshop Wednesdays. This one heavily depends on how the tumblr community function works, but the idea behind it is to metaphorically gather and share about our ongoing fan creation projects, or ask for advice from other creators or share a life hack that you found that works. That sort of thing. [Would hopefully help to motivate people to continue or even pick up creating.]

Exo watch alongs. What it says on the tin, we'd have a poll on what to watch and every one watches it together and talks about it as it goes on. [Another idea to get people talking to each other.]

Holidays and birthdays. Have a valentines day exchange for example or spooky stories at halloween etc. People can share posts about the member whose birthday it is.

Sleepover Saturdays. This is kinda similar to something....I think it was @prettywordsyouleft used to do. Again logistics would depend on how the tumblr community function works, but the memes and tag games and the questionnaires and mad libs etc that @ffff7777 suggested would go here. Just an hour or so of fun once a week. People could submit stuff like uquizzes they found or made and whatever we don't use could go towards the next week's activities.

Potentially? Like....a lot of the exo content I see crossing the dash...when I see it...it's all older posts. I have recently developed a habit of checking the original timestamps on things and if you ever look....we have posts still making the rounds that were originally posted from 2017, and that's just the oldest one I've seen lately.

This isn't a bad idea at all, anything that helps alleviate some of the mental labour is a good thing imo. Another option would be to take submissions for prompts and use those to power the polls.

Yes! It was during one of their concert ments! One of thier live streamed ones...it kinda became a bit if a meme at the time...but he was teasing exols about thier phones and posting to social media and he specifically mentioned posting to Tumblr. So yeah our precious leader knows about us. As for the analytics....it's a real possibility especially when you consider that back when Tumblr was hosting celebrity ama, side note does Tumblr still do those? I haven't seen a notice for one in a while. Anyway, the websites been used in the past as part of movie or music promotions, Dennys had a Tumblr blog as part of thier marketing strategy until like 2019. TikTok might be the most popular social media atm but that doesn't mean companies are gonna disregard all other sources of data. Truthfully it's probably just a matter of percentages.

Anyway. Like I mentioned above...I've got a jump start in organizing things, as for help it'll be a matter of potentially finding a few admins to help run the events themselves, because there's definitely gonna be days id miss simply because of work, and to get people to help spread the word to the active blogs out there. Honestly it might be a good idea to reach out to some of the popular writers and see if they'd be willing help out and promote the idea once the blogs details are polished.

And I don't know if I've said this yet, but thank you, to you and to everyone else who's thrown in ideas. I'm starting to have hope again for our fandom, I know I definitely feel much more enthused being proactive about things. So thank you for the help and input.

So I can't be the only one who's noticed the decline in fanmade exo content here on Tumblr. We've gone from a fandom who's new posts could be measured in hours to a fandom who's posts have days....to weeks....to months....to even years for some specific tags.

We have had 6 solo album comebacks this year, 3 fancon tours, 2 solo concert tours, a myriad of festival concert appearances, youtube videos, magazine shoots, instalives, etc. Yet if you go to the exo tag it's mainly populated by archive blogs. And the nude bots, which....that's a whole other problem on its own. I digress. My point being, the tags, at least from what I've seen (I admit I haven't looked into the shipping tags) are being filled by the same handful of blogs yet given the high amount of source material, no one seems to be doing anything with it beyond archiving it.

Again this could just be because I didn't delve too deep or too far back, but it does have me wondering if part of the reason participation this year was down was simply because there's hardly anyone left.

There's been instances in the past where others have attempted to inject new life into the fandom so to speak, with....varying...level of success. The exo revival project being the first and most successful that comes to mind. I'm wondering what everyone else's thoughts are on the matter and if holding new fandom events might be a way to involve more people year round because I really do want to continue holding this event next year but if things keep going the way they have been there won't be anyone signing up.

Let me know what you think, ideas you might have, reblog this and tag your mutuals to get them involved in the discussion. I have a few ideas that I've pilfered from other fandoms, watch alongs. Fic bingo. Theres valentines exchanges. Fandom sleepovers. Heck I'd set up a Tumblr based scavenger hunt if I thought people would play. Like....we dont have to be monoliths in a placid sea of we don't want to. Fandom can be fun. It should be fun.

[subspencer]

Neighborly Favors

baby!spencer x fem!reader

based on this request from @spencergubler

spencer discovers what his neighbor does for a living, and she offers to give him a show EDIT: i realized after posting i switch from using third person/‘she’ to second person/‘you’ halfway through. my excuse is i was sleep deprived. hope you can overlook the error!

wc: 2.3k. cw: none

He's only ever seen his neighbor in passing, catching the flash of her coat as she enters her apartment while he's leaving his, or seeing the top of her head as she's walking by on the street when he looks down from his window. Most people don't take enough interest in their neighbors to care to get to know them, and normally Spencer wouldn't care either. Except this neighbor plays some pretty interesting music, which he can hear through the thin walls connecting their apartments.

He's not exactly sure what she's doing when she's playing her music loudly, but it doesn't sound like she's with anyone. And not that he's trying to invade her privacy, but he also doesn't hear anything happening that's remotely as sexual as what the music is. It kind of sounds like she's working out? He's not sure.

What little information he has on her only inspires his mind to think of her more often. To solve the mystery of his next-door neighbor, who comes home just as he's leaving for work, who he thinks always looks pretty despite never having seen her face.

Unfortunately, his sweet, innocent mind doesn't consider what most would think is the obvious answer. He has to find that out himself after he finally sees her, properly, in the hallway, trying to break into own apartment by picking the lock.

"Are you locked out?" He manages to speak calmly even though his mind is racing looking at her. She has on a short coat that stops just above her knees, and a pair of heels that look incredibly tall. All he he sees between are long, bare legs.

"Yeah.” She sighed, dropping the bobby pin she jammed into the lock. “Can I wait in yours until the maintenance guy comes?"

And he has no idea how he doesn't just pick up his feet and start running, but he actually lets her in, and now it's just the two of them sitting on his couch, multiple feet apart as they try to find conversation to fill the awkward silence.

"So... what do you do for work?"

"I'm a dancer."

"Oh... like ballet or-"

She looks at him like he's grown a second head and laughs, "I'm an exotic dancer."

"Oh."

He folds his hands in his lap and is suddenly extremely red. From the embarrassment of looking stupid in front of her, for one. And a bit because now he's thinking about her, in those exact high heels she has on, dancing in a dark room.

"These aren't the shoes I wear for that."

His head snaps up at her, terrified he’d said those thoughts out loud. He must not have realized he'd been staring down at her shoes for a moment too long, and that given her profession, she can tell when a guy's looking at her a certain way. Lucky for him, she finds his bashful innocence to be endearingly cute.

"They're a lot taller than this. I just wear these to get to and from work. You can see them sometime," she shrugs. Too coolly offering to show Spencer what she looks like when she dances.

He really doesn't know what to say, it probably should not have been what he ended up saying, "So the music from your place then?" He blinks at her, hands holding his knees so he has something to do with them. When she doesn't answer right away, he offers his signature frog smile, feeling incredibly awkward still.

"Sorry, didn't realize it was so loud." She looks genuinely apologetic, and it makes him feel bad for saying it like that.

"No, I mean- I mean is that like, the music that..." She knows what he's trying to ask, but it's just so much more fun watching him squirm trying to figure out how to word it in a tactful way. "Is that what you listen to at work?"

God, he's so cute, managing to find the most unassuming way to ask that. "It's what I dance to, at work, yes."

"Cool." He has no idea why he asked that. Or where to take the conversation from there. Now he's just sitting in that silence again, staring pointedly at his floor as he ignores the new mental image of her next door, kept apart from him by only a paper thin wall as she practices her routines in her living room.

Spencer's not a creepy guy, he's really not, but he feels like one when he's picturing his neighbor naked while she's sitting right next to him.

And who is she helping when she takes off her coat (because Spencer's apartment is eighty degrees)? Certainly not Spencer, who is half-expecting her to be wearing her uniform underneath. He's relieved when it's actually just a dress. And then he hates himself for thinking it wouldn't be.

She’s too sharp to not catch the look that flashed across his face as she took it off. Curious, excited. Maybe a little lustful. Nervous, for sure. But curious is what she was going to cling onto.

“Do you at least like some of the songs?” She said behind a devilish grin.

“I uh... I haven’t heard any of them, before-”

"What's your favorite?"

Spencer let out an airy chuckle, shrinking under the pressure that she wouldn't let up. He can't answer that question without incriminating himself a little bit. It was easier to laugh and brush it off like she was joking.

"Spencer, I know you have a favorite," she pressed, scooting a tad closer. Her chin rested on her hand, propped up by her elbow resting on her crossed-over knees. "If you tell me I might show you the routine."

The lump in his throat is visible as he swallows, Adam's apple bobbing up and down. He wipes his sweaty palms on his knees before suddenly you're grabbing them, calling his attention as you stand up in front of him.

"I was going to practice anyway. I'm working on a new routine." His eyes can't get wider as you pull him up from the sofa and drag one of his dining room chairs to the center of the living room. "Maybe you can tell me if it's good."

As you queue up the song on your phone, Spencer does the only thing his mind is capable of doing. To sit down and wait for what's coming. Music starts playing softly from your phone speakers, and you move to the light switch in his living room, gesturing to ask if it's alright as you hit the dimmer.

Even in the dim light, Spencer can see how beautiful you are. He can make out the features of your face if he trains his eyes hard enough, and that's exactly what he's doing. Trying to watch your face, even as you're sauntering towards him, hiking up the hem of your dress.

"You okay?" Your tone was playful and light, two things Spencer did not feel capable of being right now. He felt completely serious as you placed a hand loosely on his shoulder, dragging it along his body as you circled the back of his chair, across his back and bracing his neck. Cupping under his jaw so tenderly before letting go. It lit up each nerve ending that came across your path.

You were behind him again, sliding both your hands down the front of his chest with soft pressure, dragging them down as your lips came to ghost near his neck. Your face just barely touched his skin, grazing it in a feather-soft way that made him tickle.

Each cell in his body came to attention under your touch. His eyes almost drifted shut to succumb to the feeling, but then you stood in front of him, swaying your hips gently as you sunk down towards the floor, bracing your self with a hand on each of his knees

As you came up, your hands slid up his thighs, using him as a brace to bring your body closer to his, diving towards him with your chest to his face. You moved slow on the way up, giving him time to appreciate the cleavage revealed by the skimpy dress as you did.

His eyes were still locked on yours, cowering under the attention and to nervous to look anywhere else.

"I-I don't know what to do with my hands," he chuckles, blushing hard.

You hum, turning around and taking a seat on his lap, pushing your hips slowly back until they met his crotch. You gave him a soft grind before letting your back fall to his chest, wrapping one arm around his neck. Taking his free hand into your own, you placed it gently around your thigh before trailing it up your body, allowing him to push the hem of the dress further up as your hands travelled towards your chest. You let his fingers toy with the lace edge of your panties for a second before ghosting them over the swell of your chest, skimming just briefly and teasingly, before dropping his hand back to his side.

Lifting up from your hips, you suspended your body over his, rolling in slow motion just above his lap, barely making contact with his body as he watched you. Still using his chest to bear your weight with your arms hooked around his shoulders, able to crane your neck to the side and place soft kisses on the shell of his ear before sighing deeply into it.

On instinct, his hands fly up, gripping your waist and bringing you back down to him against his hard dick. Immediately, he dropped his hands, feeling suddenly rude for being so forward and demanding. Instead, he was rewarded with a gracious bounce of your ass against him, a few times before grinding deeply against him.

Just as a groan fell from his lips, your fingernails scraped against his shoulder, ducking under the collar of his shirt to feel the bare skin. His hips buck up in reaction, and he's quickly embarrassed again.

"It's okay," you coo, running your hand through his hair. He follows your fingers as they run through the strands, chasing after them, so you provide him with a gentle tug. He bites back a moan and you tug harder, determined to make it fall from his mouth.

He lets out a surprised gasp and his arm wraps over your waist, weighing you down so you couldn't move too far from him. You almost want to tease that clients are never allowed to touch the dancers like this, but you fear that then he might stop. So, you don't.

Just for his benefit, you give him a deep, exaggerated moan right in his ear as you roll against his dick, allowing your free hand to wrap over the arm gripping your waist so tightly. When he starts subtly shifting in his chair, you can feel him getting closer.

He starts rolling his hips in time with yours, pushing them into you as you shift yours back, pressing your bodies ever closer. His eyes flutter shut as he bunches up the fabric of your dress, knotting it in his hands as he tries to hold himself back.

You break another rule when you wrap your lips over his earlobe, sucking it softly into your warm mouth before releasing, "It's okay."

It's all the permission he needs, both of his arms now pinning you against him. He gasps as his hips jut up, staggered and out of rhythm, a few times before he lets out a strangled moan, spilling his release inside his trousers.

It was never your intention to let it get this far, but you're so glad it did when you see his face, covered in a light sheen of sweat and pupils blown with lust. His naturally plump, pink lips are red and swollen from biting down so hard. That slicked-back hairdo he had before is now tousled up from your fingers knotting through it. He looks nothing like that shy, innocent boy who opened his door to you just thirty minutes ago. He's something else entirely, panting for air as he comes down from his climax.

When his eyes open again, they still look at you as softly as they did before. With the same admiration, and maybe now a deeper level of want.

You've never been one to be at a loss of words, but you truly don't know what to say now that you've seen your very cute neighbor come undone under you. And that he looks at you so sweetly despite what's just transpired. You keep it light and playful just as before as you climb off of him, searching for your phone and purse while he excuses himself to the bathroom to clean up.

While he's gone, you hear the maintenance guy coming down the hall, and you have no reason to stay. Just as you go to leave, he comes back out, and he hides his disappointment poorly because you look like you're making a quick escape. But when you see him, your hand leaves the doorknob and you turn to say goodbye.

His long legs carry him across the length of the room quickly, stopping just short of you, and you notice just how tall he is as he towers over you. His eyes flicker between yours and your lips, wanting to kiss you, but unsure where the boundary lies.

You lean forward to kiss him, the gap between you narrowing and your eyes drifting closed.

"Can I take you out?" he stops you in your tracks. He starts panicking internally, taking your stunned silence as a rejection. "Like, on a date? Is that... is that okay?"

Then you finally lung forward, crashing your lips over his as you bring him down to you by his neck, pulling him closer. His mouth chases yours as you separate, and you leave a trail of sweet pecks over his lips and chin, smiling at him and nodding, "It's okay."

-

-

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[yasmijn]

Some thoughts

There was this one particular summer where I had the urge of taking off my hijab. I am a very self conscious person, and being a minority in the Netherlands amplified everything. At times I just wanted to be identified as an Asian, not a muslim. When I went to a music festival in the city center, there’s this one lady who was just having the time of her life. She danced as if no one’s watching. I know I couldn’t do that even without my hair being covered - but with my hijab it was clearly out of the picture. What would they think? I placed the burden of being a good muslimah representative on my shoulders. I have to always behave. 

Another night I was walking around the square with a friend, and since it was already dark there was not many place we could go to and we went to a bar. I think I was more nervous than the bartender (he was super chill, btw) - my friend ordered a beer and the bartender gave me a glass of water. We talked there for quite some time, and my self consciousness told me that I should not be there and that I might make other people feel uncomfortable. As a person whose main goal in life is not to be a burden and not to discomfort others, I could not help but to think that the hypothetical stares would disappear if I let my hair shown like everybody else.

But still, I was too proud. I knew that it was most probably a phase. That I would have wanted to put the hijab back on after, maybe, a month or two - and I did not like the fact that I would have to ditch the commitment I made to myself (and, ehm, to God) for the chance of feeling a bit more freedom. Yes, freedom. The freedom of not being identified as a muslim, to fade in the background, to blend with the masses, to be free from the judgment of others and - more importantly - my own judgment. To have the possibility of doing whatever the hell I wanted without being associated to what might be the most misunderstood religion in this world. I wanted to protect myself, but I also wanted to protect Islam. 

Back in November 2019 I had an appointment (a date?) with a guy friend from my class. I even had this plan of wanting to just show up without my hijab and was very curious as to how he would react to that. Fortunately I was wise enough not to do so. Because it was November and the Dutch wind is ruthless - we had to queue in the cold for a few hours and I remembered feeling so grateful because I was covered. I was free from the need to continuously keep my hair neat, to not having cold feet and legs and arms in case I decided to take off my coat, to having warmed ears and neck. Funny how I had the word “free” to describe both my wanting to take off my hijab and my gratefulness of wearing it.

Tbh I might made a totally different decision had I had a more easily managed hair. To me, it all came back to practicality. I simply did not want to spare the time to style my hair everyday, plus my hair would require a lot of maintenance to even look decent. Or it would just always be up in a bun and a ponytail anyway. Combined with the possibility of always having a cold neck and ears during fall and winter? It was a no thanks from me. Then I resorted to what I believe the most: “Indeed, Allah knows what is best for us.”

One of my housemate took off her hijab and I still remembered the day she decided to “come out”. It was the 2019 presidential election and basically all Indonesians came to Wassenaar for a queueing torture in a crazy weather (from sunny to misty to rain to snow all in under 3 hours). She came with her scarf around her neck, hair totally out. I could see that she was nervous, and all of our friends have this perplexed look on their faces. It was interesting. Nobody asked intrusive question, though. In the background they just asked me if it was for good and I confirmed it and we get back on with our lives. 

The truth is everybody has their own very personal journey and it is never our place to judge. Everybody has their own reasons and nobody owes anybody explanation. 

[thessalian]

Thess vs Liberties Taken

Y’know, I’m starting to get this feeling of vague dread whenever Scruffman, my office manager, is on annual leave. Co-workers tend to take liberties whenever he’s away. I know the saying about “when the cat’s away, the mice will play”, but come on.

Like, the Temp. We’ve been having this thing where she’d been cherry-picking all the short, easy bits of typing and leaving the stuff from people with difficult accents and/or clock in at more than two minutes or so. I did have a word with her about it a couple of weeks ago, Scruffman overheard when she got snotty about me just flagging up that we were supposed to be doing the typing in chronological order, and had words with her about how rude she’d been about it. She stopped cherry-picking the typing ... but only when he’s there. When he’s not? Well. It was particularly noticeable today because we were not all that busy and there wasn’t really enough work to go around. We split it up, but ... look at it this way; I took my usual ten or so reports out of the queue to type, noticed there were about five left and one of them was one that ran about three and a half minutes and the rest under a minute. I finished up my ten to find one bit of typing left in the queue. Guess which one.

Also ... I get that it gets dull when we don’t have a lot of typing on. However, they could do what I generally do and just potter around online (though for me it’s mainly reading the Guardian - it was another Prime Minister’s Questions today and the less said about that, the better for my blood pressure). But no. No, apparently there’s a need for an awful lot of conversation. It makes it hard to focus, especially when I’m having a bad pain day. This wouldn’t be an issue if there was no work at all, but this is people wandering away from their desks and leaving my workaholic ass to do the stuff getting dropped in the queue because “There’s not that much and she’ll get it”. I mean, at least that’s how it feels from where I’m sitting, trying to get some work done while two of my colleagues hover behind me looking out the window at the maintenance workers cutting down the anti-pigeon netting and having a conversation trying to set up Sunshine with pigeon fanciers. ...Don’t ask.

The nasty gossip about other people in the workplace was also not a lot of fun to listen to. Makes one wonder what they say about me when I’m not in. I’m not exactly Miss Congeniality by most people’s standards, so I don’t imagine it’s good, especially from the Temp, given that I got her called on her bullshit. All this to say that when Scruffman’s away, the mice get fucking catty. I mean, fuck, they could at least keep their voices down.

So yeah. I felt like I was doing what heavy lifting there was in the office today, on a day when I was already having a truly egregious pain flare. After days of warmth and sunshine, we’ve had a snap back to cold, grey, and damp, and that has done me zero favours in the pain stakes. Today was me moving at something between a limp and a shuffle and that thing where I had to pause at the keyboard and just breathe until the pain spike went down a bit. Not that anybody noticed, or thought that maybe they should try to get the typing off my hands or anything. And with Scruffman away today and the other office manager away indefinitely, there was no one to ask if I could just go home.

So yeah, it has not been a good day. I’m actually kind of praying for a Random Day Off tomorrow. It could happen; that kind of thing mainly happens when the decks are too clear to need everyone in the office. I don’t think it’s escaped anyone’s notice that the only time we get behind is when I’m not there, despite only working part time. I guess I can put up with some of this bullshit if those are the perks. Still ... the cherry-picking of the workload by not just the Temp but all three typists now? That’s just a dick move.

[sepublic]

The Astro Queue and Party Car!

           Kez… my beloved… You’re so wonderfully expressive and cartoonish, and unusually flirty with anything that exists. Yet so charming and delightful, yet beneath it all you’ve got insecurities and I feel so BAD for her… But you know what, she didn’t need Paco, and the uh… Okay I kind of forgot their names, besides Hive and Spice-something, I have a general idea, and it doesn’t matter! Oh yeah, there’s also a rock from the Hey Ho Whoa Car, I appreciate that kind of retroactive return for an old car, that’s fun.

           Weird tangent incoming, but… Going back to what I said about Kez kind of reminding me of Ryan’s lifestyle, she also seems to have the insecurity of Min, and how they both have this thing of… Being afraid of how they’re perceived and letting that really get to them! And Kez… she looked SO at ease and relieved on Min’s shoulder at the end, my heart is MELTING…! Maybe Kez has traits that can make her relate to both Min AND Ryan as a mediator, as an example of the one they become (also foreshadowing One who inversely becomes One-One), and I like that her lack of understand of social cues (or knowing disregard) allows her to comment as an impartial third, outside party…

           But also- LORE! So it seems that those boots are meant to root passengers in place so they can’t muck about whenever the Steward is operating in the same car; I think we finally, FINALLY have an answer to what it meant when it told Tulip to stay in her seat- It’s likely a default line for a passenger who somehow manages to move from their place whenever the Steward is operating… Which, given all of Amelia’s mess and hijinx with the Infinity Train’s normal functions, that’s kind of her fault! Seeing Kez glitch also lends credence to the interpretation of denizens being spawned by orbs in a sense… Which, for Tuba-is-Alive conspiracy theorists, hope is there? Because her orb might still exist?

           Regardless… The Steward seems to really live up to its name, and it’s cool to see how it usually is meant to function- Not necessarily for maintenance, but for giving passengers anything they need, should there be a necessity! Which, that makes me wonder if the Steward and One keep track of passengers to rescue them if things get dangerous, which again, is ANOTHER problem Amelia caused, and contributes further to Grace and Simon forming the Apex! Yikes… Still, it’s fascinating to see how the Steward’s role plays in interacting with passengers more, and intriguingly, Amelia’s own dialogue there… It kind of sounds like she suggested to One that he give Min and Ryan their things back?

           So, maybe this is what Amelia had in mind; Maybe she wanted a more hands-on approach to the Infinity Train? Perhaps One invited her specifically as an actual human, second opinion as a passenger, someone who can provide input on how the Infinity Train is working, a review and feedback, constructive criticism! Oh god… Imagine if Amelia actually got her number down, and THEN One asked for feedback, and she decided to stick back because it’s not like she has anything waiting- But then realizing the opportunity to bring back Alrick made her number go back up!

           Still, if Amelia IS trying to convince One to be more proactive, then it’s interesting that she becomes even MORE hands-off than neglectful when she takes the role of Conductor! Did she just, like… Give up at some point? She mentions that Ryan and Min have to ‘individuate’, is One keeping a human passenger as suggestions on how to handle passengers more, as they directly watch over them? Is Amelia suggesting that Min and Ryan be more individual and separate, perhaps having their own numbers even, because she disagrees with One’s experiment? I can only guess, but I’m glad that, as I’d hoped, Book 4 indirectly gives us a look and context to Amelia’s backstory on the Infinity Train, as setup for her eventual arc… Also, just considered Kez and Amelia parallels as people called in as a second, outsider’s opinion on an issue, especially if you consider how One becomes a duo himself, too!

           Poor Ryan, he really does seem to have an issue of… Feeling belittled, being made to feel like he’s dumb and his ideas aren’t good, perhaps? While Min, he can get frustrated and I feel more angry at Ryan openly as a result, VS Ryan at Min… And I think that of course plays into his obvious anxiety; How Min and Ryan both feed into but can also bring one another up… Min is nervous, he’s overtly cautious, but Ryan can encourage him to put himself out there more! But also, Min can be the patience that Ryan needs, they really complete one another… But on the other hand, Ryan’s outbursting behavior can make Min even MORE anxious and resentful, and Min constantly being a dampener on his AND Ryan’s ideas can make Ryan chafe, it’s fascinating!

           It kind of fits the crossroads theme; How these two could use their opposite traits to propel one another, or instead drive each other crazy… And that could’ve played into the Infinity Train’s decision to appear to them at that moment; Do Ryan and Min collaborate and let their differences make up for one another, or drive each other crazy? How Ryan taking the keys, it could’ve led to Min taking cues from him and growing, or it could’ve led to Min being understandably frustrated and even MORE resentful with Ryan… And Ryan could learn to take into account Min setting his own boundaries, or instead disregard them recklessly! They go hand in hand together, it is a FASCINATING synergy!

           Also, I have to wonder what happened to Morgan, where they are… And I like the neat subversion of like, everyone already being gone; But it doesn’t matter, the party is still a ‘hit’ because our trio had fun together! And how they don’t need to impress anyone, just themselves; That’s some incredibly clever symbolism there, I like it! Also appreciate the return of Mr. Green and the theming of the Green Car in some capacity, I wonder what’s the story THERE, if the Green Room actually has a secret portal to the Green Car, etc.! Who’d have thunk that Green Car short didn’t just allude to Book 2, but also Book 4 as well!

           Onto the next destination, passengers! I can’t wait to see what awaits us…!

[tiny-banana-time]

For the quiet love prompts: " you can stay... i'd like you to stay. "

Okay. So. This one got COMPLETELY out of hand. I'm not complaining, but damn.

Set just post Akuze, I think this is going to make its way into the second section of my long WIP. Basically, the Alliance wants Jay to start N school and are planning on extending the offer after Akuze. After everything goes... ya know, bad... he has to prove he's still up to the challenge. Queue a deployment on a Frigate with Alenko.

Shepard hadn’t exactly been social for their first week or so on the Marathon, but, Kaidan couldn’t exactly say he was surprised. Had he hoped that Shepard would at least interact with him: the one comfortably familiar lifeline he’d been handed before the brass threw him back into the thick of it, told to prove he wasn’t broken?

Of course Kaidan had hoped. He still did.

Where did the line between friend pushing him to help and subordinate encroaching on his shit fall with them at this point? They’d met less than two months ago, and everything after that first incredible week on Arcturus had been a living hell for Shepard, from what Kaidan has heard up to now. How close had they gotten in those few days? How much of that friendship still exists three weeks and one psychological disaster later?

Captain Volk turned the Marathon around specifically to drop off their previous Head of Marine Detail, Lieutenant Dillon, and replace her with Shepard. Scuttlebutt had said she was pissed about transferring to the Athens for Shepard’s sake, but cooled off at the prospect of rebuilding the Athen’s main platoon after their loss on Akuze. Thank fuck they had been smart enough to transfer Shepard to another ship after that. Kaidan couldn’t imagine being the only one of fifty-plus to return to the ship they embarked on, but could feel the stares of those passing blame with each step nonetheless. The judgement of peers wondering how you had not only survived, but managed to fuck things up for the rest of them in the same breath.

He was familiar with that.

Kaidan also knew damn well that if someone didn’t get Shepard to talk and actually start interacting with his crew, the marine would fold in on himself and get lost in the depths of self-blame he’d create.

He was intimately familiar with that.

Despite it all, Kaidan still finds himself hesitating with a hand primed and ready to knock, knuckles waiting for the cue from his brain to just fucking do it already. So he takes a deep breath and does, giving three firm little raps on the metal at chest height, before waiting. There’s the ever uncomfortable pause as he listens for any sign of movement within the maintenance closet he watched Shepard disappear into. It hits him that maybe he hadn’t given Shepard enough time alone for… whatever he’s trying to hide in there. Then again, Kaidan hopes he didn’t wait too long, either.

He’s about to knock again when there’s a shuffle on the other side of the door. Shepard gets close enough for their fields to pick up the other’s presence, and the shuffling stops. It starts up again, louder this time, and Kaidan is damn nervous when the door opens. A hand reaches out to grab onto his uniform top, and he’s dragged into the closet. The hand releases its hold as soon as the door closes, locking behind him.

Shepard has the lights low, but the glow they grace the room with is still enough to highlight the panic etched into his friend’s face. It’s incredible, Kaidan is distantly aware, how one look from the right person is enough to break his fucking heart in an instant. He wants to reach out and embrace the man, pull him in close and do anything he can to force some of that panic, that pain, to flow into himself instead. At the first sign of movement, though, Shepard flinches, and the shuffling resumes as he retreats, sitting back on a crate of bathroom cleaner across the tiny room.

Kaidan can tell he’s been crying, and fuck he should have come sooner.

“Hey.” He starts small, breaks the tension to give Shepard an easy entrance to the conversation.

“Hey.” It’s rough as the words make their way out, probably the first ones since he’d dismissed them from their training debrief a few hours prior.

“I uh-” words are escaping him, now when the right ones count for more than usual. Kaidan clears his throat. “I saw you pop in here. Wanted to, uh, check in I guess. Today seemed like it was... shitty.” Damn, is that too forward?

Somehow, it breaks up the panic around too-wide eyes and too-tight lips just enough to be encouraging. There’s no verbal response, though, and Kaidan is struggling to figure out how the hell he can help right now.

“Shepard, I’m not sure if… uh, is there… dammit. Do you, uh, wanna talk about anything?” The panic is back, just like that, and while he does a decent job of keeping a straight face, Shepard can’t hide the way his left hand shakes when he clenches his fist.

Kaidan curses himself, forcing calm into his stance and voice. “Hey. It’s okay. We don’t have to. No pressure, okay?” There’s a nod in return as the tension in the room drops back to near-oppressive levels. Shepard closes his eyes and pulls in a deep, unsteady breath through his nose. He’s holding it, and Kaidan can’t help but count to himself, hitting 8 seconds before Shepard is letting it out just as slow from a shaking jaw. Breathing exercises. Good.

He joins in on it, working to maintain a steady pace that they follow until Shepard is finally breathing easily again.

"Okay?" Another nod in return, and it feels like that's the best Kaidan is going to get out of the man. Though he does honestly seem a bit better.

"Okay. I can go if you want?" Please let me stay.

"You can stay…" It's tentative, hoarse, and not entirely convincing.

"Okay, if-"

"I'd like you to stay." The statement is louder, and while still hoarse, Kaidan is sure it's the truth.

"I'll stay," he whispers back, sliding against the door to the closet so he can sit without getting any closer. No need to push right now; they'd made progress.

“Thank you, Kaidan.”

It’s not the right moment, not now, but shit, the way his stomach flips at the sound of his first name is thrilling.

“Of course, John.”

And the way John cracks a thankful smile in response is downright breathtaking.

[sayitsdrawkcab]

Okay, so some blog maintenance notes:

I have a list of all the starters I owe, and they will go in the queue when completed.

I will also be SCHEDULING said replies probably FOUR times a day ( Hopefully starting MONDAY )

Those times will be 12a, 6a, 12p, 6p

All other posts ( images, ship stuff, musings ) will be shuffled and queued out at random ( thanks to @affcgato for the tip lol )

All headcanon posts and graphic sets I make will also be stuck in there.

I should be around later ( maybe. usually I take weekends off from the dash, but I have a lot to do plus the basketball game is on today ) to get some stuff done. Always hit me up on discord or IM’s if you wanna do something. 

I love all ya’lls faces! xoxo ❤❤

[werezmastarbucks]

Whitmore Guy - the light switch

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five

Part Six

Kai Parker x fem!Reader slowburn

word count: 3696 + 358

warnings: mentions of suicide. this one is big and there’s a lot of chatting, sorry!

music: blink-182 - shut up

“Best songs about escaping the law. Go!”

Mal was a natural. Or seemed like one. He took up the maintenance guy, Flip, who volunteered to help them decorate the gathering hall for the party. It was almost the thirty-first, and, thanks to hard work and Mal’s disgust for sleep, they were done with the playlist. Not that it was very difficult. Caroline had said, nostalgia flick. Well, they knew exactly what people would feel nostalgic to. And even if they didn’t, who cares. They had the filthiest of Bloodhound Gang and a sick lamp that changed flickering from orange to blue.

Currently he was guiding Flip through Styx’s discography, explaining why it was literally the best rock band of the middle of seventies. Every little thing Mal enjoyed was literally the best for him. He had a mind of a twelve year old teenager, and a scary look of a snake. Ever since Y/N learned why he’s the way he was, she saw everything he did in a much more ominous way. Yet, he seemed friendly enough, turning his back to her, which meant he trusted her. Just in case she has to take him out. After the gaping hole grew in her over the winter and spring, she felt there wasn’t a single thing she wasn’t capable of.

Y/N was opening boxes with plastic cups and napkins, tons of waste five hours after the party. Caroline arrived exactly at noon, just like she’d promised, and started helping her.

“Is that him?” she asked quietly, eyeing Mal from the other side of the hall. Y/N stood up and nodded. The two girls were watching as he and Flip unfolded a big knot of wiring.

“He’s cute”.

“Uh-huh”.

“And you said he was… odd?”

Y/N nodded.

“I’m quite fine with that, though. I found the reason for it. I’m not sure he’s completely honest about everything, but earlier I thought he was like a demon, or a vampire undercover”.

Caroline looked at him closely, putting away her curly strands of hair to hear better.

“And what’s the reason?”

“Caroline, you’re lifting two boxed with the projectors. Put them down”, Y/N hissed, grabbing her by the hands. The blonde vampire formed an O with her mouth and grimaced awkwardly.

“Gee, I just wanna do it all as quick as possible. Sorry. You were saying?”

“Well, he has… some… he’s like…”

On the one hand, a bit of sociopathic energy won’t surprise anyone here. But then again, this stuff is personal.

She leaned to Caroline and whispered into her ear, really quietly.

“Oh! Has he killed anybody yet?”

“I thought the same!”

Her shriek made the boys turn their heads. Mal waved his hand at Forbes, and she nodded.

“About that, by the way…” Caroline followed him with her eyes, and then looked back at her friend.

“Those bodies at Stefan’s house”, Y/N always wondered at how all the people in the town are divided between the two Salvatore brothers. “Damon found their heads. You will not believe where they were”.

Y/N rubbed her palms. Please, don’t let it be too spooky.

“They were all packed under Damon’s bed. He couldn’t sniff them out right away because of all the smell on the lawn and inside... ”.

“What was it like, exactly?”

“They were just outside the house. Butchered”. Caroline shivered under her silk blouse.

“So, that was about Damon”.

“For sure”, Caroline shook her head lightly, letting her bangs swing. Y/N noticed a clear trace of indignation in her voice. “I wonder what he has done this time to piss Rebekah this time”.

“Rebekah? You already know she did it?”

The dead weight clutching her heart and lungs for three days let go. She thought it would be something way more evil, or threatening.

“I mean, who else has such a cracked up mind to do such a thing? And a grudge against Damon? She really outdid herself this time though”.

“Right, she’s bitchy, but not completely insane, for sure?”

Forbes just shrugged, her eyes big and blue.

“Don’t stop unpacking, Y/N. Yeah, and plus, that’s a lot of work”.

“This is atrocious. We gotta find out for sure”.

Y/N was unable to work, puzzled. A sudden burst of music, bashing with the sound of drums, exploded the silence in the hall, and she jumped, nearly screaming. Mal rushed to his laptop.

“My bad!” he waved his hand, smiling.

Caroline let out a tired sighed. So, Mal conquered her, too, without even talking to her.

“When did she do it? I can’t seem to make up the time line”.

“I’ve no idea. Maybe while Damon was napping”.

“Ridiculous”.

“Look, I don’t know. Klaus is talking to her, but she’s being all defensive… she denies everything”.

“Why are you so sure it was her though? I mean, they’ve slept a thousand years ago, and then I don’t remember them contacting afterwards”.

Caroline sat on the box and started to unpack the shuffling packs of packs of napkins. She lifted her sky-blue eyes to Y/N with the expression of sorrow.

“Y/N, honey… he… they’ve been in and out, for months. He just doesn’t tell you because he knows you’re still kind of into him”.

That made her wonder.

“Weird. I fell out of love with him years ago. You guys still think there’s something?”

Caroline shrugged impassively.

“I don’t know. It better be over. Damon is not the man of your dreams, I bet”.

“Well, he used to be”.

“Ladies”, Mal appeared out of thin air like a freaking ghost, startling her yet again. Even Caroline looked at him, surprised, her hands stopping for a second.

“We’re ready for the sound check. You wanna put in a song? Care, can I call you Care? Y/N’s been talking about you lots, I feel like I’ve known you for years”.

Caroline was dead silent, looking at him like she was about to hit him. Y/N felt an urge to put her arm on the guy’s shoulder and shield him from all the world and everything he didn’t get about it.

“You’re the boss here, right? Or is it Y/N? Um, anyway, she mentioned you wanted to see the transitions?”

Forbes stood up, still unimpressed, but put on a polite face.

“Oh. Sure. You’re Mal, right?”

She outstretched her hand in a challenging gesture. Mal shook it like it didn’t matter, and Caroline was seemingly left satisfied.

“Right. Mal Osbourne”.

“Mal’s short for…”

He tilted his head.

“Mal”.

“Oh. That’s the full name?”

“Yeah, it’s very short. Just like my patience”, he smiled widely, showing teeth. His eyes stayed the usual frozen navy color. “So, you wanna check it out? I’ll wrap the equipment until Friday and won’t get it out, so all the tech stuff should be checked beforehand. Y/N’s completely useless in it. The other day she failed to upgrade AdBlock, I was pissed”, he let out a laugh. Caroline gave Y/N a stunned look, not about her impotence in computers, which never surprised anyone who knew her. Y/N nodded, and the two of them walked to Mal’s laptop. He started explaining to Caroline the queue of songs and how they all formed patterns. This seemed to finally get to her, as she saw the organizational side to the whole mess that was happening. Y/N returned to her boxes.

When the lion share of preparations was done for the day, Mal suggested they grabbed a beer at the closest bar, to reward themselves.

“She’s a bit slow, eh, Caroline? I thought you said she was brilliant”.

“She is, and that’s mean. You just talk very much, and all my friends need to acclimatize to you at first”.

“Didn’t seem to have those problems with the others at Whitmore”, he thought out loud.

“Well, these ones are Mystic Falls people”, Y/N said. “Ric still avoids you, doesn’t he?”

“Big time”.

“They’re more cautious. You see the kind of shit happening with us”.

“Oh, right”.

They left the building, and headed for Y/N’s car. Mail never drove and usually walked from college to his place which was around ten minutes away. Sometimes Y/N gave him a lift on her way home as it was the same direction. The road from the campus to her house on the Oak street normally took not more than twenty minutes.

“Does that happen often? I read about all these ‘animal attacks’. What’s up with that? What kind of animal kills people and leaves them in the parking lot?”

“Wolves”.

“They’re that hungry?”

“In the cold season, yeah”, Y/N marveled at the amount of bullshit the normal folk had to consume here on a daily basis.

“And you’re all fine with that. And they’re gonna tell that pile of bodies was wolves as well? Is that true that they didn’t have heads?”

“How did you even know about it?”

“Twitter”.

Y/N shook her head. They got into the car, and she started the engine. Mal never put on seatbelt, no matter how many times she’s asked him to. The car itself seemed to have given up because now it didn’t beep when Mal was inside.

“I don’t know what kind of animal does that”, she confessed. She still wasn’t sure Rebekah was to blame for that. But she wished it was her, very much.

“Aren’t you scared?”

“Let me tell you a story”.

“Oh, story”, Mal gasped excitedly, turning his whole body to her. He loved stories.

“One morning I wake up and the body of my dad lies there on my carpet. His upper half was in my room, and his legs were in the corridor. His throat was cut and there was a big, black pool of blood under him, soaking into the wood. Awful. I couldn’t move for about five minutes. I was afraid he would get up and attack me. And I was asking myself, who would’ve done it, why they never hurt me, how come I didn’t hear anything, and why they positioned him that way”.

Mal listened with his pretty mouth slightly agape, eyes flickering. To him, it was a retelling of a movie, a piece of fiction he loved so much.

“You think there was something special about the way they left him?”

“It looked like when a cat drags you a dead rat”.

He smirked.

“You don’t seem too upset the whole thing”.

“My father was an awful man”.

“What about the whole family talk you gave me the other day?”

“First, I don’t know Martha’s folks. I only heard your side of story. Second, we never found out who killed my father. So I can’t tell how I feel about that human”.

“Human?” Mal caught her off guards. “Why did you say ‘human’?”

She imagined banging her head on the steering wheel. Because someone got inside her house in the night without being invited, and never bit him, that’s why. It was important while they were trying to figure out the murderer, that he was human. It was a habit.

“I… don’t know”, she offered, without trying too much. “Anyway, I have little to no feelings about that. The picture of his body, though, lying there, waiting for me to wake up and discover him, still haunts me sometimes”.

“Okay, imagine you found who did this. Imagine you met that human”.

Y/N didn’t like the way Mal said that word.

“Imagine you knew the motive”.

“Which would be..?”

“Well, what do you mean when you say he was awful?”

“Ah, okay. You think they killed him to rid me of him”.

“Something like that, maybe. Imagine you met him. What would you say?”

“I wouldn’t like to meet him. He’s clearly crazy”.

Mal chewed on his lower lip. They drove up to The Craze and left the car.

“You’re driving me home in the evening”, she announced, throwing Mal the keys. He managed to catch them at the last moment. “I need to drink”.

_____________________________________________________________

“Tell me”, Mal frowned with a hidden smile, “why do we always have to make everybody listen to your millennial pop rock playlist?”

“You love it”.

“I do”, he confirmed and made himself comfortable in his chair. “But I just wonder about the reason you’re so hooked up on it”.

“I don’t think about it much”.

There was the song he put in to the DJ, who actually approved it, probably due to Mal’s natural charm. Being wrapped in the music she chose herself, and organized in a way she enjoyed, made her feel comfortable in the times of distress. Maybe now was the time like this, because she physically needed it.

Shut the fuck up, she said,

I’m going fucking deaf

“Let it be the snippet of the party then”, Mal agreed. People at the bar were swinging their heads, sniffing the familiar lyrics they probably last heard ten years ago, or even more.

They said cheers and started getting wasted.

“You remember you promised me something?” Mal cooed conspiratorially, pierced her with a look, and made her forget all about Martha for a second. She swallowed hard.

“What?”

“A sad story in exchange for mine. Or was it a trick to make me talk?”

Y/N went silent, amazed at the fact he remembered.

“You forgot, right? So typical of you. You’re ultra irresponsible. Sometimes I feel like you’re the one without any conscience”.

“Ugh”.

He drank his beer and licked his lips.

“You’ve seen my tattoo on the forearm?”

“It’s big, hard not to see. I reckoned, Alex is dead?”

She nodded. She looked at Mal’s forearms with the grey sleeves of his hoodie rolled up.

“It’s been five years now. He was my childhood friend. He taught me everything my bastard of the father was meant to teach me. Riding a bike, watching movies, making jokes, LEGO assembling, crashing my knees as we were rollerblading”.

“Did you have a crush on him?”

“At one point, when I was ten, maybe. It wasn’t serious. He was always like a big brother to me”.

“What happened?”

She tasted her bitten lip with the tip of her tongue. It was salty and rough.

“When we grew up, he lost interest in me. We went different ways, I guess. I haven’t talked to him since I was sixteen. I mean, sometimes I messaged him, I tried to see him, but he moved on far away, and he wasn’t really interested. Like none of what we did when we were children mattered. Made me feel it didn’t count. What am I supposed to do with all the memories now? He was the only friend I had growing up, and when a person feels insecure, they touch their past and it makes them feel good. But when I remember the happiest days, Alex is in all of them. And at the same time, there was another Alex, who just forgot about me, like, people just… I mean, Mal, everybody had a childhood, right? We are not born adults”.

“My childhood sucked”.

“Yeah, I know. But it still existed”.

“Unfortunately”.

“He pretended I meant nothing to him. He had a new life, moved away from Washington, and – the funniest part – nothing had actually happened, there wasn’t a clear reason. That’s just how it happens sometimes. But then, couple of years after, his fiancée called and said he had hanged himself”.

Mal was thinking, playing with the bottle cap.

“And you still got his name tattooed”.

“He still taught me how to ride a bike. No matter what else he’s done, you can’t take it away now. You can’t erase my memory”.

Mal’s face went hard. That was his judging look. He didn’t say anything, but only sipped on his beer. The waitress brought his cheese fingers, and he attacked them like a hungry bear. Y/N marveled yet again at his teen-like appetite for bad stuff. It’s amazing he was lean, and his skin was so clear, given every time she saw him eat, it was complete trash.

“Alright, but I think I win”, he said after a pause.

“You mean the saddest story?”

“Yeah. Martha’s still alive, which means I get to be rejected for the second time”.

“You think she’ll reject you? It’s kinda sweet you’re being such a creep about her”.

“You’re a specific type of chick, Y/N. She’s more normal than you. She’ll think I’m a horrible person”.

“Do you think you’re a horrible person?”

He grinned to himself.

“I used to, but not anymore. I’m on my own in this world, and the only person that ever cared about me for real doesn’t know I’m feet away from her. There’s no use beating yourself about your qualities when you’re my age”.

“You’re like, a year older than me”.

Mal smiled at her like at a child that’s talking nonsense, but you gotta be nice because one day they’ll figure it out.

“You want some?” he always shared his food with her.

“No, thanks”.

“Oh, you know what else was bugging me?”

Y/N raised her brows.

“Something bugs you, sweet boy?”

Mal giggled charismatically.

“What are the Salvatores like? I saw one of them the other day, Steven? With Prof Saltzman. They seem to be good buddies, but he looks strange”.

“Stefan. Yeah, well, we all went to the same school. Ric, too. He used to be our history teacher”.

“So, you know them well? You keep mentioning the second one”.

“Go on”.

Mal pursed his lips, concentrating really hard.

“Go on, remember”.

“I can’t, you know I can’t. I don’t remember names. Be thankful I call you right”.

“Go on”, she nudged him, entertained. It was a thing about him, Mal, not considering others important enough to remember people’s names.

“Da- Dan?”

“Nope”.

Mal crossed his arms on his chest, his eyes wondering all over Y/N’s face like the answer was there.

“Daniel. Dasher. Denmark. Dunder Mifflin”.

She laughed.

“Go on. Mars’ moons”.

“Deimos. Damon!”

Y/N felt amused when he was around. She felt entertained, light, he was taking away the weight from her. The tilt of his head, the stupid quote from Gordon Flash, and she felt like she was a different kind of person. A memory would come back to her, that she wasn’t born here. That she didn’t belong to Mystic Falls and could actually go if she decided, one day. That, in theory, she was free.

Mal watched her.

“You like him?”

“How come?”

“Your face does that thing when you talk about him”.

“What thing?”

“Like now. Like you’re missing something”.

“I don’t get why everybody thinks I still have a crush on him. I used to love him back when I was at school”.

“Whoa, love?”

“Yes. It’s that thing when you want to be with somebody, you know that”, she pressed. She still was looking for an opportunity to test just how much Mal actually felt about Martha. That he cared about her, was not a question – but how did it actually work, with his brain? Did he desire to possess her? Or felt incomplete without her? Did she make him better, more human?

“And what happened to that?”

“I grew up”.

“And?”

“You’re pushing me”.

“I’m being curious”, Mal was chewing again, “how does it die? You say you loved him. I only really loved one person in my life – and that’s rich for me to say that. Given, you know”, he motioned with his hand, “But I really think I love her. Like, when I look at her, my eyes melt. You ever get that? And my heart goes ba-dum, and sometimes I forget and think, oh no, I’m finally having a stroke”.

Y/N couldn’t hold back a chuckle.

“And when I think about her, sometimes it feels like I’m dying”, Mal said, and suddenly, it wasn’t as funny anymore.

“Oh, my poor boy Mal”, Y/N held out her hand and touched his wrist in an instinctive gesture.

“What are you doing?” he asked curiously.

“I’m comforting you”.

“Ah. Thanks. And so, I used to wait for it to go away, but it didn’t, so I decided, if I can’t get over her, I’ll just get her back. You know?”

“That actually makes perfect logical sense”.

“So, how do you fall out of love? If it’s real?”

“Maybe with Damon, it wasn’t real. But it sure felt that at some point. Boy, the things we did together back then”, Y/N snickered, raising Mal’s eyebrows high.

“What?”

“We…”

She realized she couldn’t tell Mal about one of the coolest things that ever happened to her in her life. The one person she really wanted to share, because she knew exactly the kind of reaction she would get, and it would be perfect. And yet, to tell him how she, a sixteen year old, was a bait for a bunch of vampires and how Damon ripped a heart out one of them in front of her? How he was standing there, all soaked in rain, with his black hair and silver eyes, tall and strong, like a statue, holding a bleeding heart in his palm, like an epitome of safety.

“We had the maddest parties. I was big on vodka when I was a teenager”, she lied. “We would gather all school at their huge house and party all night. And get into all kinds of trouble”.

“How old is he, exactly?” Mal asked, suspicious.

“He’s seven years older than Stefan”.

“So, you partied with that man while being underage. And you let him get into your pants?”

A wave of frozen air hit her in the face. Y/N was taken aback, at the same time feeling blood flush to her eyes and cheeks. Mal’s severity sometimes blew her off.

“I- no. Not that it’s any of your business, man, Jesus. He never liked me back”.

“Damien sounds like trash”, Mal concluded gravely, looking away. “No wonder someone’s threatening him. Is he a criminal?”

“Not that I know of. Mal, stop it”.

“What?” he shook his shoulders, as if brushing off all the thoughts of Damon.

“You’re freaking me out a little”.

“You’ve had one bottle, weakling”, he smiled warmly. It didn’t work. His eyes were worse than weapons sometimes.

“Moorning!” Mal announced loudly as he stopped the car, with a swing, on her driveway. Y/N had almost fallen asleep while looking at the window. When he turned off the music, silence rang in the car for a moment.

“You still walking?”

“How are you not drunk?” she demanded slowly, getting out of her car and pushing the door a little bit too hard.

His hand found its way to her shoulder blade. Mal seemed to move like a cat, and her being completely wasted didn’t add to her circumspection.

“I have high tolerance”, he responded. “You need a tea or whatever? Are you gonna puke?”

Y/N stood up and looked at her house. It swayed just a little.

“Nah, I’m fine”.

Together, they walked to the porch. Y/N decided to be double careful and thought of luring him inside for a minute without inviting him, just to be sure.

“Actually, would be cool if you helped me, uh, find the switch”.

Mal got slightly surprised but said nothing. Y/N opened the door, and he held it with his hand, as she stepped inside. She stood in the dark for a moment, looking at him, just outside the doorframe. The streetlights were out, again. The faint moonlight made his face look waxy. He studied her with curious look.

“You want me to come in?”

She wouldn’t budge.

Mal put his palm on the door jamb and took a step, letting himself in the house. Y/N exhaled, blood thumping inside her head, like an empty gunshot.

“There it is”, he outstretched his hand and flickered the lights, getting the switch unmistakably. How did he know? Y/N closed her eyes for two seconds and opened them again. Light was burning her eyeballs.

Mal stepped up to her, and took her head with his hands. He promptly kissed her on the forehead, his lips warm and quick.

“Don’t worry about me, I’ll call a taxi”, he said nonchalantly, an amused smirk, like he was playing with her, stretched his mouth. He left the house without saying goodbye, and closed the door after himself.

How did he know where the switch was?

[overheardatthecontinental]

I uploaded another chapter because the first was so short!  Please comment and make me feel validated.

John had always thought relationships were hard. Two people having to communicate and find common ground and connection. It just didn't seem worth the effort, especially in his world.

But Helen made it easy.

They fell quickly into a relationship, complete with shared meals and hand holding and pillow talk.

He learned that before Helen had coffee, she could barely form a coherent sentence. That she lived in high heels but tripped walking barefoot. That she had a handful of dainty tattoos that included a small daisy on her ankle, a sun on the inside of her middle finger, and a coffee bean just below her ear.

He learned that spring was her favorite season but she adored fall almost as much.

When he offered to take her apple picking, she had thrown her arms around him and kissed him nearly senseless. She made apple fritters and crisp and muffins for the cafe and he was given the privilege of helping and tasting.

That even after she showered, she still smelled vaguely of coffee.

And she had a collection of old books that rivaled his own.

Sometimes he imagined what it would be like to build more shelves in his personal library and mix their collections together the way her dresses and sweaters now hung with his suits.

It was too soon to discuss such things, however. The last thing he wanted to do was scare her off.

Not when he had her in his life and, most nights, in his bed.

What was most surprising, however, was her utter contentment in not knowing what he did for a living.

As far as her friends and employees knew, John was an independent contractor. Helen knew there was more to it. Her employees joked around calling him thr super spy but… even though they didn't talk about it, he knew that she knew there was more to it. 

On more than one occasion, he had shown up to dinner or to a date with unexplained cuts or bruises. Helen had said nothing of it but she began carrying around a first aid kit and kept it stocked with butterfly bandages and gauze.

She would assess him then tend to him, and then hold him.

And he loved her, wholly and completely.

He loved the way she favored cheap wine and how she fell asleep watching cooking shows. He loved that she insisted everything she serve either be local or fair trade. He loved the way she lit up when he picked her up off the ground. More than anything, he loved to earn her smile.

Hence why he spent half the morning, after Helen left for work, individually picking daisies at the flower shop down the street before heading to the shop.

He walked in, searching for Helen, but not seeing her behind the counter. So consumed in looking for her, he almost didn't notice the man walking in behind him with a wide, shit-eating grin.

"Hiya, John. Nice flowers."

John blinks, “Aurelio. What are you doing here?”

“Always notice you’re carrying the to-go cups from here. Figured I’d give it a try since you favor the joint so much. Now I’m wondering if it’s the coffee that’s bringing you here.”

He isn’t quite sure what to say to that but he isn’t able to say much because that’s when Aurelio spots it. The special board.

“What the hell is the Wick? John, do you have a coffee named after you?” Aurelio doesn’t leave him time to answer, narrowing his eyes and reading off, “Latte with dark chocolate and raspberry? Raspberry, John?”

John opens his mouth to respond just as Eve calls out loudly.

“Coffee’s ready, Super Spy.”

And John wishes he had been ten minutes earlier or ten minutes later and that Aurelio was not witnessing this.

Instead, John skips the line and grabs his coffee as Aurelio calls, “Super spy?”

John shoots him a look as he takes his coffee.

Eve sees the flowers and makes a loud, “Awww. Boss lady is out back dealing with a shipment. Let me go grab her.”

“If she’s busy, I’ll just put them in her office.” John says quickly.

“Nonsense! You know she’d want to see you.” And Eve disappears behind the counter.

John makes his way to the side so Jamie can finish taking the orders of the short queue and Aurelio steps out of line to follow him.

“What the hell is this place?” Aurelio asks, “Super spy?”

“I will give you a hundred coins if you leave right now and never mention this again.”

“Not on your life.” Aurelio says, completely in awe. He pulls out his cell phone and quickly snaps a shot of John with coffee and flowers.

“What the hell?” John hisses.

“I need photographic evidence of what is happening right now.”

“You don’t need shit.”

“I need an explanation.” Aurelio fires back, “I never see you without a coffee cup from this place so I decide to give it a try and find you here with flowers and a drink named after you? John, please, I will give you six new cars if you tell me what’s going on?”

And John is saved from needing to say anything as the door to the kitchen opens and Helen comes out.

Her dress today is a pale pink with sleeves that extend just to her elbow. Hours ago, it had been hiked up over her hips as he took her in the hallway before she left for work. Her hair is, as usual, held up by a pencil in a loose bun.

“Hi baby.” She greets, coming around the counter. Helen reaches up and wraps an arm around his neck and stands on her tiptoes to give him a kiss.

John hands her the flowers which she takes with a beaming smile and plants a kiss on his cheek. 

“You spoil me.” She says as John wraps an arm around her back. He is aware of Aurelio and the expressions his old ally is making but he has no idea what to say.

“And make the rest of us look bad.” Jamie calls over from where he’s making espresso. “I swear, Helen, we should get hazard pay for having to watch the two of you make eyes at each other all day. It’s so sweet, I swear it could make me sick.”

“I’ll take them being mushy over the months and months of pining any day.” Eve adds, “that was so much worse.”

And Aurelio is never going to let him live this down.

As he thinks it, Aurelio steps forward and offers a hand to Helen, “Hi, I’m John’s old friend Aurelio.”

And John could kill him. He had a lot of respect for Aurelio. He liked the man. He trusted the man, as much as he trusted anyone. But Aurelio finding Deja Brew might have been the worst thing that has ever happened to him, John muses. That includes dozens of stab wounds, gun shots, homeless years, and every other shitty thing that he has gone through.

Helen, being Helen, smiles and takes his hand, unwrapping her right arm from around John to shake Aurelio’s hand and the removal of her touch is enough to make John want to stab the mechanic.

But he doesn’t and he keeps his grip on Helen as she reaches forward.

“Hi, Aurelio. I’m Helen.”

“An absolute pleasure to meet you, Helen.” He looks over at Jamie, “And I would love to hear more about these months and months of pining.”

Helen rolls her eyes, “It wasn’t that bad--”

“Wasn’t that bad?” Jamie says, leaning forward, “I swear to christ, man, John came in for months before they started talking and we had to deal with months of them just staring at each other over the counters. Making eyes every damn day while Mister Tall, dark roast, and handsome would just--”

“I’m sorry,” Aurelio is grinning like a mad man. “Tall, dark roast, and handsome?”

“It’s one of the few nicknames for John that boss lady hasn’t vetoed. Other forbidden options included sugarless daddy,...”

“Jamie.” Helen warns.

“Aaaand, she signs my checks so I’m going to stop. But the magical day came when Helen got held up at gunpoint and John finally made a move so now life is good.”

John wonders if it’s possible to erase Aurelio’s mind of the past hour. Doc probably had some good meds somewhere that could do the trick. Or a bad concussion. Maybe an entire bottle of bourbon…

Aurelio looks like he’s about to say something and John can’t risk him saying anything. Quickly, he jumps in, “Weren’t you going to order a coffee, Aurelio?”

“I was.” Aurelio nods with a smile, “I was thinking about trying the Wick.”

Or maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to kill Aurelio. Sure, it was hard to find an honest mechanic but he’d gladly overpay for maintenance the rest of his life so long as he didn’t have to deal with this.

“Eve,” Helen says, “Get Aurelio a Wick and an apple muffin.” She turns to Aurelio with a smile, “John and I made the muffins on Saturday.”

And 聁urelio is beaming, utterly delighted at the timage of John Wick baking.

“Did you wear an apron?” Aurelio asks John, who promptly responds:

“I will kill you.”

Helen taps him on the chest, “Be nice!”

And he can’t deny her anything, even if it means playing nice with his asshole of a friend. Even as his friend is pushing every ounce of patience that John has to its limit.

Helen looks up at John, “I need to go finish moving the boxes into the deep freeze, but I’ll be out in just a few minutes.”

“I can help.”

“No, go sit down with your friend. It shouldn’t be more than five minutes.”

She reaches up and gives him a soft kiss that, even a month later, has his head reeling. And she turns back to the back, carrying her bouquet of daisies. 

“Wow.” Aurelio says.

John turns and walks to his usual table in the back. He sits down, coffee in hand, and Aurelio follows, taking the seat across from him.

“So, that’s your girl? She’s sweet.”

“She is.” John agrees.

“Not what I pictured you going for.”

“Oh?”

Aurelio shakes his head, “I always pictured you for the femme fatale type.”

And John snorts. Because there is nothing to say to that. Bad girls had never been his thing. He had too much in common with them, too many of the same weaknesses. But then, good girls had never been his thing either. Because he was far too different from them.

Helen was as good as it got and she probably certainly fell towards the good girl end of the spectrum, but she was so much more than that. She was kind and sparing in her judgement. She was sweet but not weak. 

Not too long ago, a fight nearly broke out in her shop when two patrons had each claimed that the other pushed them in line. There was some shoving and John was ready to stand up and interfere when Helen had marched in, got between them, and smiled.

He had never seen anything like her kindness but all it took was a smile and they were apologizing to one another and the rest of the patrons.

“I take it I’m wrong?” Aurelio says at John’s reaction.

John says nothing, noting that Eve is making her way around the counter with a cup of coffee and a small plate with a muffin. He waits until she drops it off and says a quick thank you to her.

“No problem, super spy.”

“Yes.” John says when Eve is back behind the counter, “You’re wrong.”

Aurelio nods, carefully, a smile on his face as he does so, “I gotta say, her staff are killing me with these nicknames. Sugarless Daddy? Super spy?”

“The latter came from the day Jamie referred to. It was just before closing and Helen and I were alone in the shop. Someone came in, with a gun, to rob her and I… interfered.”

“Meaning he’s six-feet-under?”

“He is now.”

Because, no, John hadn’t been willing to kill in front of Helen. She didn’t need to see that or experience that side of him. But he was going to be damned to let that man walk around after he made bail.

John had followed him home and used the man’s own gun to shoot him. The gun he had threatened Helen with after it was conveniently misfiled by Jimmy.

Of course, Helen did not know. Nor did he have any intention of telling her.

Aurelio nods and takes a bite of his apple muffin, “Damn, man! You made this?”

John shrugs, “I helped.”

Meaning he did exactly what Helen told him to do as they slowly turned his kitchen into Armageddon. He had been in war zones less chaotic then a kitchen when Helen was baking. 

He also found out that flour was not as easy to remove from hair as he had thought.

And that… he loved that about her. He loved that she was dominating in the kitchen and that, when he got in her way, she used her ingredients as projectiles.

He loved that she spiked her coffee with irish cream and her apple cider with bourbon on days when she didn’t work.

He loved that he now had six kinds of coffee in his kitchen and Helen would randomly spit out facts about their origin or the process used to roast the beans.

He loved that she made him taste everything, while looking at him to gauge for any and every reaction.

And he couldn’t lose any of it.

Not the slowly growing pile of heels in his bedroom or the vast amounts of sugar that now resided in his kitchen cabinets. 

Not Helen falling asleep on him watching ridiculous cooking shows or waking up with her completely tangled around him.

“You can’t tell anyone about her, Aurelio, I’m serious. I want to keep Helen as far away from that world as I can.”

“From our world, you mean? You live in that world, John. How do you expect to keep her away from it?”

“I exist in the underworld when I’m there. And when I’m not, I’m here.”

“You can’t walk in two worlds, John.”

He can’t leave the underworld but he would die before he left Helen.

“I don’t have much of a choice.” John says quietly. “I’m not letting her go. And I have to keep her safe, which means that you can’t go telling anyone about this. About her.”

Aurelio shifts uncomfortably. “It might be a little late for that.”

“Meaning what?”

“Meaning I already sent Marcus a picture of the drink board special and of you holding daisies, John.”

Of course he had. 

That meant that Aurelio knew about Helen and Marcus would soon guess that John had a woman. That John Wick, a man often compared to a priest for his lengths of celibacy, had fallen hard for a woman beyond his reach.

Helen emerges from the back at that moment and walks to the back. There are no extra chairs but Helen simply chose to perch herself on John’s lap, leaning against the back wall. She wraps an arm around his shoulders and gives him a gentle kiss on his cheek.

“All good?” John asks and she nods, her fingers rubbing his neck gently.

John relaxes under her touch and inhales the scent of sweet coffee.

And just like that, he is home.

[365daysofsasuhina]

[ 365 Days of SasuHina || Day Two Hundred Thirty-One: An Accessory ] [ Uchiha Sasuke, Hyūga Hinata, Uzumaki Naruto, Haruno Sakura ] [ SasuHina, NaruSaku ] [ Verse: A Light Amongst Shadows ] [ AO3 Link ]

When it comes to her appearance, Hinata has always stuck to the basics. Never has she been the sort of girl to dress up or look flashy. If anything, she’s more comfortable and content to blend into the background. Whether it’s her no-effort hair (unless she gets a wild hare to put it up in a ponytail), baggy clothes (she’s not keen on being too straightforward given her body shape), or her lack of accessories, she simply keeps herself low-maintenance.

In a way, she envies the other girls her age. Ino has always been so fashion conscious. With hardly any effort, she can put together an ensemble that sweeps people off their feet. Glamor without going overboard. Even her hair is more lustrous than Hinata’s own: the long golden tail is far more eye-catching than Hinata’s plain dark locks. Sakura’s choppy, rosy strands get more attention despite their lack of upkeep, too.

Sometimes, she wishes she could be pretty. Be out there. But between her self-conscious nature, and shyness at being noticed, she’s not sure she could ever actually handle putting any more effort into her appearance. The dual feelings of wanting attention and yet being leery of it can be rather...depressing.

But, in the end, she keeps to her typical habits. She’s been this way all her life, after all. Why change? It’s not like there’s anyone she wants to attract, anyway. Naruto, after all, has always set his gaze elsewhere...and her actions never swayed that. Not enough, at least. Already it’s evident he and his female teammate are romantically involved...even if neither has the heart to tell her.

She remembers the rosette offering the possibility of seeking companionship with her own teammates: Kiba, or maybe Shino. And yet, that idea wrinkled the Hyūga’s nose. For quite some time, the pair have been far more like family...like older brothers that both tease and bolster her, snapping at anyone who gives her trouble. She’s not sure she could ever set that aside and attempt to have something...more with either of them. It just wouldn’t feel right.

Beyond that...she really has no clue.

But Fate has different ideas...and starts placing someone specific in front of her.

It started with the whole of team seven. Sasuke, newly returned for his brother’s reappearance, begrudgingly spent time with them...even if that meant mostly being a third wheel as Naruto and Sakura get a bit involved with one another’s company.

And given her friendship with the pair, that often left Hinata as wheel number four. At first, she thought little of it. Having been made privy to Sasuke’s circumstances due to mutual acquaintances, she already knew much of what had transpired in his past...and how it still affected his present. In the same vein, she was one of the few able to understand...and willing to move on. True, the pair had been relative strangers before he left, but if anything that served in her favor. Sasuke held no ill will against her. They had a fresh slate from which to start.

And then came the alliance with the Hyūga. As Itachi’s future hung in the balance with his prior convictions held over his head, it was the other dōjutsu clan that was called for help. But her bloodline have always been shrewd...and then arranged for an alliance. Sasuke had rebelled against the idea, but eventually acquiesced at Itachi’s urging.

Thus, Hinata and Sasuke seemed almost unable to get away from each other. She served as the liaison between the two clans...mostly because it was she the Uchiha knew (and tolerated) best.

With that, Hinata conceded, and accepted that she and Sasuke were simply apt to bump into each other more often than not.

Like today, for example.

Yet again, Naruto and Sakura have invited them both out for a day of catching up. Naruto has been busy learning under both Tsunade and Kakashi. Sakura has been gearing up to take a leading position in the hospital. Hinata’s work with her clan and the Uchiha has kept her busy, as it has Sasuke. So the four have had little time left over to simply spend together.

So, they’ve taken to wandering an outdoor market. The weather is fine, not too hot yet, and they peruse the goods alongside a small crowd of people. The more boisterous pair are at the front, Sakura openly ogling as Naruto looks sadly to his frog wallet. Behind them, the others aren’t really as interested, mostly just taking in the sights. Sasuke isn’t one much for stuff, and Hinata’s frugal habits mean avoiding most anything not terribly necessary.

“Ooh, Hinata! Look at this!”

Attention caught as Sakura waves her over, Hinata steps up and takes a peek.

“Isn’t it beautiful? It looks just your style!”

An ornate hair clip - silver adorned with white doves - rests atop a small stand, gleaming in the light. Hinata’s eyes go a little wide. It is extremely pretty...and also very expensive. “Oh, well...I-I’ve never really worn hair a clip before…”

“Don’t you have that dove print kimono? You could wear it to the matsuri next month! It would be so perfect, Hinata! Don’t you think?”

“W-well, I…”

“You should get it.”

At once, all three of the others turn to look at Sasuke. Blank-faced, he looks back. “...what?”

“Didn’t think you’d have an opinion about hair clips, Sasuke,” Naruto muses, a brow perking.

“Am I not allowed to?”

“Well, no, but…”

“I-I’m not sure if I should spend the money,” Hinata quickly cuts in, not wanting to spark one of the boys’ many arguments. “It is very pretty, but...I don’t really need it.”

“Aww, boo,” Sakura replies, lips pursing in a pout. “It would go so well with that outfit!”

“Yeah, well...m-maybe next time.”

With that, Sakura shrugs and moves to the next booth, Naruto right on her tail. Hinata can’t help a small sigh of relief.

“...do you like it?”

“Eh?” Turning as Sasuke speaks, Hinata blinks at him. “W...what?”

“The hair clip. Do you like it?”

“Well, I...I guess I do, but -”

“I could get it for you.”

Flustered color quickly blooms in Hinata’s face. “Oh, n-no! Sasuke-kun, please don’t. It’s so expensive, and -”

“But you want it.”

“I...I said I like it, not that...I want it.”

The Uchiha perks a brow. “...what’s the difference?”

“Well...I can like something but not want to get it. I don’t, um...I don’t really wear hair clips, anyway. I wouldn’t use it enough to justify the cost.”

That doesn’t seem to clarify much for him, but Sasuke doesn’t push the issue. “...all right then.” With that said, he keeps walking, Hinata following suit...with just one last little backward glance to the clip.

No, Hinata...you don’t need it. Leave it alone.

By the end of the day, it completely slips her mind. There’s far more important things to worry about, after all. Embroiled back into her work, she forgets about the little exchange entirely, and life goes on.

And then, the matsuri arrives.

As per usual, the four of them agree to go together. By then, it’s long since been accepted (and explained) that Naruto and Sakura are, indeed, an official couple. Though a bit somber about it at first, Hinata quickly finds herself glad for them. Happy that Naruto’s affections are finally returned, and that her friends have someone to rely on.

Though it does make for the typical arrangement of Hinata and Sasuke feeling more like tagalongs than part of a group…

Sighing lightly to herself, Hinata brushes back hair behind her ear as they wait in line at a food stall. Naruto is having difficulty choosing, which is holding up the queue.

“...Hyūga.”

“Hm?” Turning, she startles a bit as Sasuke holds out a piece of folded cloth. “...um -?”

“Here.”

Blinking, she accepts, feeling something within the fabric. A few tugs later, she brightens. “...Sasuke-kun, you…?”

“I knew you wanted it, so I got it. Figured I’d just make it a matsuri present.”

Going a bit pink, Hinata carefully retrieves the dove clip. “...you didn’t have to do that…”

“I wanted to.”

Moving to use it, Hinata fumbles for a moment before stilling as he urges it from her hand, able to see what he’s doing. Carefully, he pins back her hair. “...there. It really does match your kimono.”

Still pink, her head bows shyly. “...thank you…”

“...you’re welcome.”

When the other two are finally finished in line, Sakura quickly notices the change. “Oh, you got it?”

“Um, well…actually, I -”

“Looks good,” Sasuke offers, cutting off her explanation.

After a pause, she realizes his intention. “...thanks.”

“You should wear your hair like that more often, Hinata,” Naruto offers, mouth full of food.

A small smile pulls at her lips. “...maybe I will.”

                                                        .oOo.

     I won’t lie...this one took some thinking, lol - neither Hinata nor Sasuke really seem the sort to indulge in accessories, but...well, maybe they would if the other gets something for them x3      Sneaky Sasuke, picking up that clip...! Pretty smooth there, guy...even if maybe he doesn’t quite fully realize what he just did, haha!      Buuut yeah, that’ll do it from me tonight! Thanks for reading n_n

[hydrus]

Version 381

windows

zip

exe

macOS

app

linux

tar.gz

source

tar.gz

I had a good week with a couple of challenges. MPV is now ready for all windows users and is turned on by default.

MPV

Thank you to the advanced users who tested and gave feedback on MPV. I have eliminated the crashes, tightened up the jank, and am now rolling it out to all Windows users by default for video, audio, and gif/apng. All media view settings under options->media will be reset this week.

MPV is a good free media viewer. One of the core benefits of moving hydrus to Qt was being able to plug it into our media player, enabling hardware-accelerated video playback and audio. It looks just like the native player, with the seek bar beneath, but it works much faster, able to play 1080p or 4k videos at 60fps at full or unusual zooms. And of course, it makes noise!

This is early days. I have only just started plugging into MPV, so many features are basic or not yet available. The global volume and mute controls are currently some very ugly controls in the top media hover panel. Slideshows will not move forward on an MPV window (hydrus doesn't know when an MPV player has 'played once through' yet), and some processes like the archive/delete filter will need some extra workflow options now that more users will be playing videos at high res (left-click on the player pauses the video, so to set 'keep' on archive/delete, you'll have to click on some whitespace, of which there is so much less when the video is so big). Please let me know what your top priorities for improvement are, and of course, if you encounter errors or crashes, let me know. I'll keep working.

Even though it was a lot of difficult work, I am overall really pleased with how this has gone. The only big remaining bug that I need to nail down is an unusual thing where after multiple mpv viewings in a preview window, that page will stutter some query/thumbnail loading unless the mouse is moving. This is a slightly frustrating bug, but the benefits of MPV are enough that I am happy to live with it. I will also get it going for Linux and macOS, which I did not have time for this week.

the rest

Assuming that users will want to set/unset MPV and other view/zoom options for filetypes in the coming weeks, I have reworked how all of that works under ''options->media''. By default, you now set view and zoom options for 'all video files' and 'all images', and then if you have specific options for just webms or pngs, you can set those specific options to override the group default. Every user will be reset to the new defaults on update. Please have a play with this this week.

Similarly, I have reworked the UI for system:filetype. The growing list of individual filetypes are now hidden from view when not needed, and the 'group' types have tristate checkboxes for better review. It takes up less space and just feels better.

Also, I have pulled gifs and apngs out of the 'image' group and created a specific 'animation' group for them. This doesn't change much, but it makes it easier to search for or manage settings for static images vs little animations.

I fixed a bunch of the weird layouts that were accidentally introduced last week. Please report any more you find--I am still fighting to convert old wx layout code to Qt's system, so this could happen again in a place I do not notice.

full list

mpv:

mpv is now available and the default for all windows users

I believed I have eliminated the final reported mpv crash

mpv load and unload delays are greatly reduced. initial load still takes about half a second, but subsequent loads are now as quick as native renderers

mpv seems to work well for gif and apng

added a very simple global volume slider and audio mute checkbox to the media viewer top hover window. this was a quick patch--much better controls and shortcuts will come in future

mpv windows now properly re-show the cursor on mouse movement

unified mpv mouse press/release handling with native animation--click down now does pause/play and starts a drag event

unfortunately, in some cases embedding mpv requires overriding local OS number rendering (e.g. 1,234 vs 1.234). hydrus number rendering is now coerced to the english style with commas until we can figure out a better solution--sorry!

cleared up an issue where simple clicks on page tabs would trigger micro-page drags that were immediately cancelled. this situation was exacerbated when the page being left had an active mpv window. the flicker of page drag cursor is now gone, and some weird situations where static clicks during busy time could move a tab should be fixed

eliminated the recent issue in the media viewer where transitioning from one media type to another through navigation, particularly mpv->other, would flicker a single frame of the last 'other' media shown(!)

fixed a bug where repeated mpv views in the preview viewer could disable client file drag and drop

the bug where thumbnails may not waterfall in unless the mouse is moving after some mpv videos are loaded for a page is relieved but not completely fixed

if the preview window is collapsed and hidden, media will no longer ever load into it

fixed an edge-case bug where the mpv window would not like being told to show nothing when it was already showing nothing

wrapped mpv load errors in a basic graceful catch

fixed an issue some users had with loading mpv's dll

.

file types:

a new file metatype, 'animation', is added, for gif and apng. these are no longer considered 'image' for a variety of purposes

the filetype selection panel, which is used in system:filetype and import folder UI, has had an overhaul--it now has tristate 'mime group' checkboxes to represent a half-filled group and expand/collapse buttons to hide the tall filetype lists. individual filetype lists will start hidden unless their default value is a partially filled group

the media view options have a similar overhaul: they are now collapsed to general filetypes by default. you set view and zoom options for the generalised 'video' type under options->media, and if you want to set specific options for webm or anything else, you can add/delete those types to override the general default

the new default options for a fresh client are just for these general types. if mpv is available, video, animations, and audio now start with mpv as the default viewer. video and animation zoom is now flexible (not fixed to 50%, 100%, 200%) and will fill the media canvas

all media view options will be reset to this simple default on update! if you have specific zoom or display preferences, please reset them after the update--but you might like to play with mpv a bit first, as it renders at large and smooth zooms very well

.

the rest:

the new thumbnail right-click file selection routine will now only focus and scroll to the first member of the selection if no other members of the new selection are already in view

fixed some caching code and sped up the new select/remove menu count generation (which can lag for very large pages) by two to six times

sped up file filter counting code by about ten percent

fixed weird layout on: migrate database panel, duplicates page (left and right), edit shortcuts, edit import folder, and the filename tagging panel

fixed an issue where the media viewer's hover windows might flicker into view for one frame when the mouse moved over the center of the media viewer for the first time

fixed a media viewer shutdown issue that would sometimes lead to the first file in the list being opened in the shutting-down viewer for an instant or highlighted as the new thumb focus

the file maintenance system that queues up missing/broken files' urls for redownload will no longer re-select the download page on every new url

fixed an issue where a downloader's tag blacklist was not being applied on the child files of certain kinds of multiple-file post (such as with pixiv)

deleting a very long tag should no longer create a very wide confirmation dialog in the manage tags dialog

fixed some 'the panel grew a bit, but the parent window didn't grow quite enough and now it has scrollbars for two pixels of extra content' sizing issues

fixed some dialog sizing calculations when the parent window was borderless fullscreen

maybe fixed a rare event processing bug

improved quality of some misc data comparison code across the program

did some significant backend event/pubsub code cleanup, mostly related to getting mpv working a bit cleaner

improved thumbnail rendering time

improved smoothness of thumbnail fade animations (at least for when they are working right, ha ha!)

misc fixes

next week

Unfortunately, I believe that I burned out over the past four to eight weeks. I have been pushing too hard, trying and failing to keep up with my promises, and along with some IRL stuff it nuked my schedule and energy and mood. It hit a breaking point this week, and I realised I was working non-sustainably. I will fix this situation in the coming weeks by altering my schedule. I expect to scale back on overall work hours and hydrus changelog work specifically, focusing instead on keeping myself healthy first so I can face other work (like keeping up with messages and maintaining a productive workspace) and not go nuts. I will also try to promise less when it comes to timeframes so I do not feel bound to stay up late working. I apologise if you have been waiting on me for something--I lost where I was.

I would like to do some more mpv work next week, and do some code cleaning. I will also be taking a bit of time off, so it will be a light week. Thanks everyone!

EDIT: If you have trouble loading mpv, please use the new easy settings under options->media to go back to the native viewer for the main filetypes, and let me know your situation. Some users with millions of files over a network share seem to have very slow startup.

[fanartfunart]

..Ok I wasn't sure whether or not to send this to you buuuut since you're reading it, that means I did it! First of all, I want to say that I *adore* your work, I think half of all AUs I follow might be yours and everything you draw is just sssoooo soft and pretty and aaaaa. Second (and the thing I was anxious about sending)... I have a (vague) idea for a Sanders Sides AU I just came up with and already got attached to. Problem is, I'm.. not all that involved in the fandom nor do I have (1/2)

enough of a plot in mind to write it as a full-blown fanfic. The next thing that came to mind was an askblog, which would probably work best but I’m scared nobody will notice it/send in questions/I won’t be able to maintain it for longer than a week or so/I’ll get too caught up in trying to make art for it I’ll barely post anything. Main point of my question is.. Do you maybe have any advice to spare? Sorry this got so long and rambly ^^“ Thanks for reading this far! (2/2)

First things first, Congrats on being brave enough to send the message! (and glad you enojy my work!)

As for your askblog idea, I’ve certainly got some suggestions to spare! My first being, have fun with it! Explore your idea, know your limits, do your best and you’ll probably be ok!

((rest under the cut))

I’d certainly suggest giving yourself a back-log of little one-shots/doodles/ect if you’re scared of not posting often or regularly. You can make it your safeguard.

Maintenance, is a bit more iffy, and really depends on what’s going on in your life, (I’m terrible at maintaining things) But, I’d say feel free to answer questions via text when you can/appropriate, take advantage of the queue, (I found out that you can press the alt/option key (on mac at least) on an ask and you can save it to the queue/drafts, which has become a lifesaver) and maybe keep to a simpler style for asks, especially if you get a lot.

For getting people to ask questions~

First, make your initial post. This can take a LOT of forms and shapes, but, the key point is that it needs to introduce your main characters, their current relationships, the setting, and your key plot motivator (ie: daydream au, I had Roman (initially just implied) running away, and subsequently meeting, and reacting to meeting, Patton, Logan, and Virgil (and them reacting to him in return)) With that:

A: don’t give them all the answers! (Should be obvious but I can’t believe how often I see people just giving away everything.) You should leave your readership with enough information that they know what’s going on, but just enough left out that they’re like, ‘hey! what about this!!!?’

B: give your askers a place in the story. Either literally or figuratively. You’ve gotta have your characters interact w/ the askers somehow, give them some staying power.

C: Give your askers information about the characters that they don’t know about each other/their situation! it’ll engage your readers and make them go ‘hey hey hey wait, we’ve gotta help them figure this out!!’

D: let your characters lie to the askers! Let them exaggerate! Let them disagree and interact! (just make sure that you portray it as them actually doing so. if a character isn’t prone to lying, make the character nervous about it. If a character IS prone to lying, and is good at it, make sure the reader knows it, and maybe have the characters who know better call them out.)

In the end, you should be guiding your askers to the key plot points, and your askers will guide you in return. And, if you’re stuck or don’t have many asks in the askbox, post a comic or fic or something to get the ball rolling again!

Now, for the whole noticing thing:

A: tagging, use the tags for everything that applies. The key ones for a sanders sides au would be: [au name: ie Daydream AU], Sanders Sides and/or Sanders Sides au, [Character(s) involved in post/ask: ie Patton Sanders], [particular character traits important to au/post/ask: ie Unicorn!Patton, Shapeshifter!Patton, ext (I… don’t think the ‘!’ is super important anymore, but it’s a habit for me)], TS Art and/or Sanders Sides Art, [type of au (if applicable): ie Fantasy AU], [your personal art tag: ie Fanart’s fanart], [trigger/squick warnings if applicable], [other story-specific tags: ie hurt/comfort, angst, fluff, ect.]

put your most important tags in the first 5-ish tags. Do Not tag Every character unless they’re all there. Also, if you’ve got Deceit as a character (even if he’s a minor character), there’s been a Sympathetic Deceit, Villain Deceit, and Manipulative Deceit tag set-up, so I suggest using those as well as applicable (and, tbh, I’d say use the villain/manipulative thing for any of them if you happen to have that)

Then, some people also have tags for the askers, (I personally just have a ‘answered asks’ tag ((that I often forget))

B: if you think you can maintain it, I suggest using a tag-list and/or a master-post ((the master-post got hard for me to maintain personally, but it was helpful in the begining)) The taglist will notify people when you update, and will keep them coming back! the master-post will help people navigate the story, and will introduce newbies pretty nicely. However!! you can also use a chronological link if you’re using a blog purely for the au! this is the set up:

your-blog’s-url-here.tumblr.com/tagged/whatever-your-au’s-main-tag-is/chrono

Linking in bio just type in:Insert Link Here”> insert whatever you want the link to read as here .

into the description. (note, you MUST have the quotes around your link)

(you can’t copy-paste into descriptions (which is plain annoying), and spaces will have “%20″ instead of a space and if you put it as a link in your description it won’t work, which is something I learned the hard way.)

C: self-reblog. Reblog back to your main/most popular blog, do time-zone reblogs, do night/morning reblogs, whatever, just get yourself out there.

…. I also touched on this subject a while ago too (tho less in-depth cause I wasn’t on my computer), and that’d likely be tagged as ‘ask blog’ or ‘advice’ so idk, maybe look at that too, I might’ve missed something here that I touched on there.

Hope this helps, sorry it’s so long!