#Saved the best message in my inbox for last

[mama-scarebear]

I'm ready for my dance lesson Mama 🫣 x

Next time I'll make sure the blue goes Under the diaper 😳

[lacrimosathedark]

I need the comic book fanfic writers to be made very aware of something:

Roy Harper is the only one to EVER call Jason Todd "Jaybird".

This isn't a family name that he picked up on, or that Roy made and the family has adopted. Roy is literally the only person to call him that. Dick doesn't, Babs doesn't, Bruce doesn't, nobody but Roy does.

The others call him Jay sometimes, in old comics Jace was said a few times (which I actually like and wish people would use literally at all). Bruce has said "Jay, lad" like once and fandom adopted him calling Jason "Jaylad" but that's not horribly egregious so I tolerate it. Dick occasionally calls Jason "little wing". That's about it.

Jaybird is very specifically a Roy Harper thing.

(Honestly yall better appreciate me actually looking back in RHATO 2011 because BOY do I hate this comic. It's not only poorly written, but in my opinion, ugly as fucking sin and I need to burn my retinas now)

That is the first instance of Jason ever being called "Jaybird", and it becomes a lowkey running gag that Roy calls him that and Jason "hates" it.

And then we get this post Heroes In Crisis

This whole thing may have been poorly written because, again, Scott Lobdell sucks, but the intent is to evoke intimacy to make Roy's death hurt. Jason is supposed to have just lost his best friend and was told by Bruce Wayne whose last appearance in his life was beating the shit out of him and, oh yeah, who saved Jason? Roy Fucking Harper.

In addition to the fact that Roy only left Jason to get help for himself. He was supposed to be in rehab/therapy, somewhere safe, and he fucking died because of handwavy Speedforce shenanigans or whatever it's been retconned to now because nobody liked Heroes in Crisis. Roy was supposed to be getting better and he died ostensibly in an accident. Like if that's not the worst fucking bullshit--

This scene of Jason calling himself by what he deems a stupid nickname would mean jack shit if everyone and their goddamn cat called him "Jaybird". But it being a Roy-specific thing makes this scene distinctly about Jason being vulnerable and actively grieving. It's such a cliche trope, and a real coping mechanism, to call a deceased loved one's phone just to hear their voice in their inbox message again. He probably has no thoughts that Roy will ever hear it so this is just for him, but he's letting himself accept this dumb nickname Roy gave him now because it was Roy that gave it to him and Roy is fucking dead.

Like, in fairness it probably frustrates me more because I ship the two and parallel it with Oliver calling Dinah "pretty bird", but like...even as just a cheeky friend nickname, nothing romantic behind it, having everyone else call Jason that feels wrong. Especially his family who he still has so many issues with and, like it or not, he's closer to Roy than literally any of the Bats at this point.

This isn't the only time I've seen the fandom do this (this being giving nicknames between characters that just don't exist); Jason calling Tim "replacement" is absolutely rampant in the fandom and I hate that too because he never calls Tim that, and refers to him as such like once. I have a whole list of actual nicknames and insults these motherfuckers call each other somewhere, but maybe another time.

In short

STOP HAVING EVERYONE CALL HIM JAYBIRD.

Thank you and have a nice day. <3

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Blind Offer 4

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon, manipulation, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: After a leak causes you to evacuate your apartment, your landlord offers a vacant unit that’s too good to be true. (short!plus!reader)

Character: Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, Lloyd Hansen, and August Walker

Note: Monday was like a punch in the face. This is one of my Corrupt-A-Wish requests but I won’t reveal which one right away because it’ll be part of the plot!

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you like I love turning intended one shots into series. Take care. 💖

It’s not often you manage to sleep in. It’s a true feat for you to wake up after nine on your days off and not lay wakeless and frustrated at six in the morning. Despite this, you feel less than rejuvenated. In fact, you’re exhausted as you sit up and rub your eyes with the heels of your hand.

Dizziness follows you from the bed as you stumble to the bathroom. After letting out the pressure in your bladder, you rinse your face with cold water in an attempt to chase away the dregs of fatigue. You grumble and leave your reflection in the dark.

You snatch up your phone and head downstairs. You flip through your notifs, including a message from your landlord. You’re not entirely surprised by the good night. He seems to struggle with his social filter and timing. Sending you sweet dreams after midnight isn’t exactly sauve.

Whatever. He’s a bit strange but he could’ve lied and charged you for the washer. He could’ve even made you pay for a hotel. As odd as this whole arrangement has become, your complaints can’t outweigh the trouble saved.

You set up the coffee machine to brew and turn to lean in the crook of the counter, enamoured with your phone. You know it’s bad to just sit there staring at a screen at first light but you’re slightly disoriented. You feel like you have to do something to keep from thinking too much.

The coffee is a bit strong. You choke it down as you bring up your inbox. Maybe you should check in about the apartment. Today would be perfect to get back to normal. You have a stretch of five days coming up and you would rather not be scrambling to pack up on a work night.

You bring up Steve’s chat and ignore his last text; ‘sweet dreams, sweetheart ✨’. That’s better left unacknowledged. 

‘Hey, wondering what it’s looking like at my apartment. When do you think it’ll be ready?’

You hit send and stare into the depth of your coffee. The taste isn’t what you’re used to. You like a lighter roast over the smoky dark flavour. You force it down for the much-needed dose of caffeine and rinse the cup. You pause and stare at the dish rack. It’s empty.

You set your glass inside and reach to open the cupboard above. All the dishes are neatly stacked. The plate you used last night set with the rest. The pans are away and the cutlery too. You swore you left them to dry.

You shake off the ripple of unease. Your phone buzzes and you look down at the incoming call. He can’t just text?

You answer it, clearing your throat before you croak out a hello.

“Hey, uh, sorry I haven’t updated you. Been pretty busy,” Steve jumps right in. You can hear activity on his end of the line, “it’s not looking like this will be done today.”

“Oh, really?” You sigh, “well, okay. Thanks for letting me know–”

“Rogers–” Someone calls from his end and he quickly shushes them.

“Yeah, it’s turning out to be a bigger issue than I thought but if you need anything at all, let me know.”

“Of course, thanks. Um, I’ll let you go. You sound pretty busy.”

“Just a lit–”

The line cuts off. You pull the phone away from your cheek and look at the screen. The timer is paused and the call moves to your history. You’re sure if there’s anything important, Steve will call you back.

You bring up the tab viewer and clear away all the windows. You open a new app and stare at the logo, waiting for it to load. It doesn’t. You close out and try again. Hmm. You pull down the menu and check the wifi; connected without internet. Really?

You notice the bars at the top of your phone are gone too, a circle with a line blink over them. No service either. What the hell? A tower might be out. You put your phone screen down and leave it in the kitchen. You’ll give it twenty and hope it’s back up once you’re dressed.

Upstairs, you dig out an outfit to lounge around in and start on your daily routine. Brush your teeth, cleanse, moisturise, the very basics that make you feel human. Usually, the process renews you but today, everything is a task. You feel and look drawn.

You pull on your lavender sweat and plain white tank. You go back downstairs and retrieve your phone. Still no signal. That means you have to entertain yourself. Or… maybe you can find a coffee shop with a functioning hotspot. You could use something sweet after the bitter dark roast.

You pull on your sneakers and slide your phone into your purse. You jingle the keys as you approach the door. You tend to use the doorcode, it’s just easier, but just in case the wifi is messing with the system. You flip the latch back then grab the handle and twist.

The door doesn’t budge. You try again, yanking harder. You use both hands, pulling on it until you’re out of breath. What the fuck? Are you locked in?

You go to the small box mounted beside the door and check the screen. Armed and secured. Okay? You punch in the code Steve sent you but the thing just beeps at you five times and shows ‘incorrect passcode’. You try again, making sure you punch it in slowly so you don’t get any numbers backwards. The same incessant beeping sounds.

“Ugh!” You cross your arms and step back. You can’t even call Steve to tell him.

You fish out your phone and raise it above you. You walk through each room, trying to find a signal. Nothing. You sniff and try to disconnect and reconnect to the wifi. It doesn’t work. You don’t even know where the router is to reset it.

Panic starts to crawl its way up your body. This is so strange. You’re trapped here, alone, isolated. On your day off, too.

You put your purse down and your phone and go to the window in the front room. Try to push it open but it won’t move. The clasp does nothing to free it and your distress begins to build. What is going on?

You lean forward and look outside, hoping you might chance on an elusive neighbour or a passerby. Nothing. The street is just as empty as usual. 

What do you do? Just sit and wait? You’re at a loss.

You stagger back and fall heavily onto the couch, holding your head in your hands. Something isn’t right, you can feel it, but your mind nips at your intuition. It’s nothing. These things happen. Bad luck comes in threes; broken washer, shitty encounters, and now, you’re cut off from the world. 

You’re through the worst, right?

🖤

You doze off in the tedium of your new wireless existence. You don’t realise until you come too, face down on the leather couch with an arm hanging down to the floor. You bend your elbow and push yourself up, a pang sparking across your lower back from the stiff cushions. You look around, searching for your bearings.

You lean forward and take your phone. It’s been almost two hours since the world shut you out. The service bar is still blinking and the wireless is still disconnected. Goddamn it!

You climb to your feet and shake your head, trying to free yourself from the cobwebs. You’re hungry. You should eat. It’ll give you something to do.

You take out the prepackaged salad in a plastic container. You should eat it before it starts to wilt. You pop the lid off and add the little packets of nuts and cranberries, then drizzle over the dressing. You stir around the leaves, coating them with the oily vinaigrette.

You eat slowly, staring at the fridge and the touchscreen set into it. Fancy fridge. Fancy everything in this place. You almost miss the simplicity of your rattling fridge and leaky washer.

You get about halfway through the salad and give up on the dry kale. Not enough dressing in the world can make that good. You close up the container and put it back in the fridge.

You trail back up the hall to the entryway. You grab the handle again, wrench as you pull on it with all your might. You plant your feet and grunt, fighting to pull it from the frame. You stop and flip the latch, thinking maybe you accidentally locked it. Nope, still stuck.

“It’s not going to open,” a voice echoes from the high ceilings.

You spin and press your back to the door, looking around frantically for the intruder. You don’t know that voice. There’s no one there. Oh god, are you going crazy?

“What the fuck is going on?” You ask aloud, cringing as you realise that is definitely insane. You’re talking to a house.

“I said, it won’t open,” the deep timbre comes again. You gulp.

“Wh- where are you? What– Who–” you sputter, confused at what’s going on. You push away from the door and spin, searching for a shadow or ghost. Whatever it is that’s possessed this place.

“I can see you but you can’t see me,” the narrator says.

You still and turn back to face the security box. Still armed and secured. You pivot slowly, searching the walls and the corners.

Even if you found the cameras, what would you do?”

You squeak and clap your hands together. Okay, this is fucked up. This has to be a nightmare. You close your eyes and bow your head, willing yourself to wake up.

“Rogers is right. You’re a nervous one.”

You pop your head up and stare at the ceiling, “what are you talking about? What is going on?”

The voice laughs. You shake your head as you sink your nails into the back of your hands, clenching them tight. Your heart pounds behind your ears, spinning your head.

“Steve? You know Steve?” You ask desperately.

“Doll, you can ask all the questions you want. You give answers, I don’t.”

You whimper, eyes wetting in horror. This can’t be real. It can’t be. Whatever this is, Steve will come and let you out. Whoever this creep is who hacked his system if just fucking with you.

“Shut up,” you snap, “you… you weirdo. What the fuck?”

“You got a filthy mouth,” he rebukes, “lady’s shouldn’t talk like that.”

You reel and stammer. You scoff and pull your hands apart, trying to steady yourself, “fuck you, dude. Men shouldn’t be doing whatever the fuck it is you’re doing. Spying on me, or whatever.”

There’s a click and silence. You wait for a response. Nothing. You spin again, searching. “Hello?”

Your voice reverberates around you. No answer. Just the still, stolid silence of the house.

A low whir underlines the quiet and you face the door again. The narrow windows along either side begin to disappear. You can’t believe your eyes. Black barriers descend over the glass and block out the sun.

You rush into the front room, finding the same thing on the wide bay window. You rush over but can’t stop it, recoiling before the barrier can crush you. Shit, shit, shit. 

“What is happening?” You holler as you face the open room.

Again, you’re left with your own question. You don’t get it. Is this a joke? Wait, what if this isn’t Steve’s place? You were always told not to trust a landlord…

🖤

You pace and pace until your legs give out. You're weak and wilted. Your mind as addled as your body. You don't get it!

You cry out, begging for an answer; what's happening? Who is this bodiless voice? What do they want from you?

Is this what it's like to snap? To enter psychosis? It can't be real yet you don't think you could machinate such a fantastical terror on your own.

You lay in a heap on the floor, waiting for whatever comes next. It's all you can do. Your fingers are bruised and scraped from clawing at the door and windows. Your eyes are swollen from the flow of tears that rises without permission only to recede to a pulsing anger that makes your skull throb.

You hear a jingle. Digital and bubbly. You pop up and reach for your phone. You keep it on vibrate but you never know. No change. No service.

You huff. What the fuck was that? You clasp your phone tight and wobble to your feet. You walk between the couch and the low coffee table, following the jingle as it sounds again.

You enter the kitchen and find the screen of the Amazon Echo flashing at you from the counter. Where it once displayed the time and weather, you see a blaring font. You get closer and lean in to read it.

'Go to your room. Put the dress on.'

You blink. Huh? What dress? You don't wear dresses. You shake your head and stand straight, looking up at the ceiling.

The device chimes again. You read the new message. 'Do it.'

You sigh. What the hell is this dystopian fever dream?

The screen clears, a new message; 'bad girl, your disobedience has been noted.'

Your chest knots. You don't like the sound of that. It's both frightening and enraging.

You tap the screen. Maybe you can access something through there. Maybe get the wifi working. It does the respond to your touch, it changes again.

'Turn around.'

You retract your hand and stand stalk straight. Eyes wide. You quiver as you slowly shift around. You shield yourself, expecting someone to be waiting for you.

You only find the small flatscreen mounted in the corner of the kitchen lit up. The TV screen plays the very scene you stand in. You get closer, lowering your arm as the figure on the screen does the same. The angle is high, you follow it up to the corner.

You take as step back and glance again at the smart screen on the counter. You jump as music erupts from it, a song you know, that you heard recently. 

'The world is a vampire Sent to drain Secret destroyers Hold you up to the flames And what do I get for my pain? Betrayed desires And a piece of the game'

Another message blips up on the screen. You near, hugging yourself as you read it.

'Last chance.'

You shudder and nearly swallow your tongue. You should be defiant. Be strong and stand your ground. You're utterly terrified. Is it Steve? Did he do this?

You turn solemnly away, accepting defeat. You enter the front room and almost in a trance, traipse up the stairs and down the hall. You stop in the doorway of the bedroom. You gasp.

There's a dress on your bed. It wasn't there before. You've never seen it. The red checker pattern, the wrap cut. It's old fashioned in a way. 

The music wafts up louder from the first floor. You spin back to the empty hallway. Someone else was here… are they still there?

[qdbs-writes]

May I have a slightly strange request?  Raiden and Fujin's reaction to their crush suddenly saying "God save Johnny Cage" (the reader and Cage are friends and this phrase just escaped by chance and was not even intended for anyone in particular)

nonny, i promise you this is like the least strange thing i've had in my inbox lately

Fujin and Raiden React To Their Crush Saying "God Save Johnny Cage"

It was like any other day in the Sky Temple, or, as normal as the Sky Temple could be. In the last few weeks, you'd been setting up your friendly neighbourhood Shinto deities with some more modern Earthrealm technology, the latest edition being a TV. It was nothing fancy, an old Goodmans 1408 that you had lying around. The real challange was hooking it up to modern channels. After some percussive maintenance, you tune the CRT TV to a talk show featuring Johnny Cage. The storm brothers gathered behind you, enchanted by the flickering screen you had brought to life for them. The interview itself was relatively dull, with Johnny being asked about his latest movie or suspected liasions with other Hollywood actors. It was until the interviewer mentioned one of Johnny's costars, an actor who'd been publicly outed as transgender, and asked if Johnny could ever work with the 'dirty, immoral liar' again. The three of you watch as Johnny begins to shout at the interviewer, screaming that they had no right to say that about his costar. The arguement continues until Johnny punches the interviewer across the jaw, before turning to the camera crew and live audience to speak about the importance of trans rights. But he could only get a few words in before the program cuts off, with a 'We Are Experiencing Technical Difficulties' message. The storm Gods share a look while you nod your head proudly. "God save Johnny Cage." you mutter. You didn't have time to think about the nuances of what you had said in front of the two Gods, but decided that it was more amusing to let them come to their own conclusions.

Fujin

Recently Fujin had been building up the courage to reveal his feelings towards you. He was sure of how he felt but painfully unsure of how to go about it. He had asked his brother, Raiden, who was little help. He had even asked other Earthrealmers, although he did his best to hide your identity as the object of his affections.

Fujin knew one thing, that if he couldn't tell you, then he absolutely couldn't tell any of your friends, what if they stepped in? What if they said something to you that gave you a bad opinion of him? What if someone stole your heart first?

There were far too many ways it could all go terribly wrong. And now he was even more confused. "God save Johnny Cage", what did those words mean? Well he knew what they meant, but why would you say them?

Fujin was a god, did you want him to save Johnny? If that were the case, Johnny didn't seem to be in any danger. If you really cared that much about Johnny, maybe it's time Fujin confessed his feelings for you before it's too late.

When the two of you are alone, Fujin will drop to his knee dramatically, "I vow to protect Johnny Cage for you, because since the day we met, I have loved you, and I will do all in my power to make you happy, even if you love another."

Fujin emotionally braces, expecting rejection, but instead hears your delighted squeals as you wrap your arms around him, saying how you love him too, pressing soft kisses to his cheek.

Raiden

For the last few months, Raiden had been delicately calculating how to best start a relationship with you. Part of that was navigating how you felt about others, and if he had any competition to worry about.

From what he had seen, your relationship with Johnny Cage was platonic at best. But Johnny was also more experienced in courting techniques and had succeeded in gaining many partners over his short, mortal lifetime.

Raiden's heart sinks at the idea that perhaps Cage's charm had reached you through the television, ensnaring you enough to make you say "God save Johnny Cage".

He knew the meaning behind that saying, he wasn't a complete fool. To ask a god to save someone was a verbal decleration of your devotion to someone, your pride in them, how you wish their lives to be long and happy.

Weren't all those things the sum of love? Those were certainly all the things Raiden wished for you. For you to suddenly feel this way towards Cage... The only explaination was the TV, clearly a cursed device that you must be protected from.

Que Raiden launching the TV over the nearest balcony when you aren't looking, if you ask where it went, Raiden will feign ignorance and instead invite you for a walk in the gardens, offering his arm for you to take.

[sluttywonwoo]

instead of you [part one] || l.mh

pairing: [best friend’s brother] lee minho x college!reader ft. han jisung

summary: you didn’t expect to spend your summer pretending to be your best friend’s girlfriend- then again, you didn’t expect to fall for your best friend’s brother, either. 

warnings: swearing, alcohol, mentions of sex (18+ mdni)

word count: 3k

a/n: revamped my tom holland series from my main blog ( @wazzupmrstark ) to try and motivate myself to finish it!!

series masterlist | early access to the next chapter on ko-fi

“You know Felix!”

“You know Felix!”

“You know Felix!”

You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, and if he’s anything like the rest of your family that point isn’t very convincing.”

“I’m fucking telling him you said that,” you best friend said with a grin, shaking his head

“Go right ahead. Tell him this too.” You flicked him off and grabbed a 2-liter of sprite from the counter behind you. “Tell him it’s from me, with love.”

“I’ll be sure to pass the message along.”

“Great. Can you pass me that?”

“This?” Han asked, holding up a bottle of vodka. You nodded. “If you’ll go on the trip.”

“Asshole,” you muttered. You swiped for the bottle, but Jisung held it above your head out of your reach. “Fine, I’ll fucking drink sprite and tequila, happy?” 

“Jesus Christ, just take the vodka,” he said and held it out to you, “I’m not going to be the reason you get sick.”

“Such a gentleman.”

He rolled his eyes. “How many times have I saved your ass from dates with losers this semester alone?”

“That’s different and you know it!” you argued. “You’re only playing the boyfriend card for like fifteen minutes max and we always get takeout afterwards.” 

“All I’m saying is, you’ve been on a lot of shitty dates this year. It adds up.”

“Not to two fucking months it doesn’t!” You twisted the cap off the bottle of vodka with your teeth and eyeballed a shot and a half into the cup. 

Jisung leaned back against the counter and crossed his arms, giving you that knowing half smile you were all too familiar with. You scowled in annoyance and took a sip of your drink. He knew you better than anybody, and if that smile was any indication, he knew you were going to break soon. But you weren’t about to give in without a fight. 

“I’ve bailed you out of dates as well, so don’t act like I’ve never done you any favors.”

“I only called you once this semester, but nice try.”

You shrugged. “All that’s telling me is that I get laid way more than you do.”

He scoffed and rolled his eyes. “You really want to do this right now? In the middle of this party?”

You didn’t offer a response aside from pursing your lips before taking another sip of your drink. Realistically, it was too close to call which one of you slept with more people, and you knew that. Han just didn’t usually take his lays out to dinner first like yours did. 

“Come on, you’re always going on about how you want to travel!” he insisted. “This is the perfect opportunity, and it’s all already paid for.” 

“That’s not what I meant by traveling.”

“What do you mean?”

“I just, I don’t know, I want to explore places, meet people, bar hop- I don’t want to follow an itinerary and wear matching t-shirts… you know?” Jisung grimaced. “We’re gonna have to wear matching t-shirts aren’t we?”

“My mom’s been working on them for a month,” he admitted sheepishly. “But we’ll have free time! We can do whatever you want then, promise. We can bar hop to your heart’s content” 

“I don’t know, Ji…”

“Just say you’ll think about it?” he asked, giving you puppy dog eyes. 

You sighed. “I’ll think about it.”

-

“Y/n, I swear to God if you don’t call me back within the hour I’m calling campus police. I can’t keep leaving messages because I know your inbox is probably almost full because you never clean the damn thing out so this is the last one- if you’re freaking out about what I sent you and ignoring me because of it can you just text me or something so I know you’re alive? If you’re not ignoring me I- just call me, okay? I’m getting worried.” You could hear him take a breath like he was about to say something else, but the message cut off there. 

It was his fourth call to you in a row, and all of the other voicemails were basically the same thing- aside from him mentioning that if you were dead in a ditch somewhere he wouldn’t email Dateline and get you an episode like he’d agreed to do if you were ever murdered just because he was mad at you for not answering his calls in the third message. 

You squinted at your phone and typed out a quick text back just to let him know you were okay. You read it over once before sending it to make sure it was coherent, but the words were blurring together on the screen and the light was hurting your eyes. Whatever, if there was anyone who could understand your gibberish it was Jisung. 

You pinched the bridge of your nose, trying to stop the throbbing in between your eyes. The room was dark, save for the single ray of sunlight shining through the gap in the curtains right into your eyes. Your luck never failed you. 

You weren’t a stranger to hangovers, unfortunately, but that didn’t make them any less of a bitch. Apparently it came with the territory of being a lightweight with a best friend who was a heavyweight. Keeping up with Jisung was like an olympic fucking sport that you were in no way qualified to compete in, but that had never stopped you from trying. 

It was only when you reached for the glass of water you always kept on your bedside table that you realized you weren’t actually in your bed. Your first clue should’ve been the curtains. You didn’t have curtains on your window. 

“Fuck.”

You mustered up some energy and tried to sit up, taking a brief look around the room to try and get your bearings. It was a standard college apartment bedroom from what you could tell. There were several doors, one of which was cracked open to reveal an ensuite bathroom. You didn’t even have to look at the person sleeping beside you to know you were in a boy’s room. The bed- if you could even call it that- was just a mattress on the floor and the only decoration in the whole room was a barstool flag hanging on the wall. You always picked winners. 

You carefully peeled back the covers, pushed yourself to your feet, and made your way into the bathroom all without waking whoever was next to you. One look in the dirty mirror told you everything you needed to know. What was left of your makeup was smudged around your eyes, making you look like a very hungover racoon. Your underwear was still on, but your pants were gone and you were wearing someone else’s t-shirt. It was a tour shirt from a band you’d never heard of that probably either hadn’t released new music since 2009 or broke up over a decade ago. Whatever, just another to add to your collection.

It had been an hour and twenty minutes since Jisung had left that last voicemail, and you were banking on the hope that he hadn’t contacted the police yet. 

“Y/n, what the fuck, where are you?” You held the phone away from your ear as he shouted at you through the speaker. Your headache was already bad enough. 

“I-uh, I don’t know. But I’m fine,” you assured him. “Can you pick me up?”

“How do you expect me to pick you up if you don’t even know where you are?”

“Is my location o-”

“If your location was on, do you think I would’ve called you a thousand times?”

“Okay, okay that was stupid of me, sorry.”

“Is there a window you could look out of and like describe the surroundings to me?”

You looked back up into the mirror and noticed a window in the shower behind you. You scrambled over to it, unceremoniously stepping into the tub to get a closer look. 

“I see a bunch of cars, and a street sign…”

“What does the street sign say?”

“I don’t know, it’s too far away.” You could practically hear Jisung roll his eyes over the phone. “Uh, there’s also a playground like a block to the left and a house with a big tree.”

“You know you’re describing every suburban neighborhood ever, right? You do know that?”

“Shut up, I’m trying my best,” you mumbled and squinted at what looked to be lights twinkling in the distance. Someone already had their Christmas decorations up a few houses down. “Oh, shit! I know where I am!”

“And where would that be?”

“I’m at the same house from last night, the one that had the party.”

“Are you- are you fucking kidding me? You’re just now realizing that? How could you not recognize it before?”

“Well I’ve never seen the upstairs! And I wasn’t in the bedrooms last night,” you reasoned.

“Alright, alright spare me the details. I'm on my way.”

You grinned. “Thanks, Hannie, you’re the best.” 

“I know.” You heard the jingle of keys in the background and then the sound of a car ignition turning over. “Stay on the line with me, okay?”

“Okay- I’ll climb out the window and meet you on the lawn.” 

“Hold on, did you say you were going to climb out the window?” Jisung asked.

“Yeah, it’s not too-”

“Why aren’t you going down the stairs and through the front door like a normal person?”

“Uh, a couple of reasons, namely that I don’t have any pants. I can’t find them anywhere.” There was a lapse of silence on the other end of the line. “Jisung?”

“I’m still here, I just don’t know what to say to that, honestly.”

“I wouldn’t either,” you sighed. “So I’m just going to,” you grunted with effort as you pushed the window open, “there we go.”

“You’d really rather crawl out of a window than just do the walk of shame and get it over with?”

You didn’t answer, instead hoisting yourself up and over the ledge head first then tumbling onto the roof. The roof wasn’t very slanted, thankfully, so you didn’t have to worry about accidentally rolling off. You shakily got to your feet and brushed yourself off before sliding the window closed behind you. 

“Y/n?” Jisung’s voice echoed through the phone.

“Yeah?”

“Are you even listening to me?”

“Not really.”

A sigh came from his end, but nothing else. You smiled, despite yourself and took a deep breath as you looked down at the ground below you. The drop was a little further than you had anticipated, but you couldn’t turn back now. What would someone say if they saw you climb back in through the window? What would you say to them? The situation was already bizarre enough as it was. 

You squatted down at the edge of the roof in preparation to jump, trying to psych yourself up as Jisung’s  prius rounded the corner down the block. 

“How is this less humiliating than the walk of shame?” Jisung huffed, you assumed mostly to himself. “You look ridiculous.”

“I think you’re underestimating the lengths I’m willing to go to avoid awkward social interaction,” you countered. “And I slept with a stranger last night, my decision making is questionable at best right now.”

“I’m glad you’re self-aware,” he said, sighing as he parked in front of the house. “Please be careful, okay? Don’t hit your head. You can’t afford to lose any more brain cells.”

You glared in his direction. “Ha ha, very funny.”

You sucked in another breath and squeezed your eyes shut before pushing off the edge of the roof with your hands. You landed on your feet, but the momentum from hitting the ground made you lose your balance and you fell face-first onto the lawn. The grass was freshly cut, clippings littering the sidewalk, and you knew without even looking that your clothes were stained to all hell. 

You picked yourself up with a groan, and jogged the rest of the way to Jisung’s car. You slid into the passenger seat and slammed the door behind you, unable to make eye contact with him as your cheeks burned with embarrassment. Jisung tossed you a pair of basketball shorts he’d grabbed from the back and put the car in drive.  

“I think that might be your best performance yet,” he said smugly as you pulled the shorts on. 

“Please tell me you didn’t film-”

“It’s already on my Instagram story.”

“I hate you.”

“I know.” He pursed his lips like he was trying not to smile. “But hey, who saved your ass just now? Oh that’s right, me.”

“Yeah yeah, thank you,” you grumbled. 

“What was that?”

You smiled sweetly. “Thank you for picking me up, Jisung.”

“You’re welcome. Was that so hard?”

“No comment.”

You both fell into a comfortable silence as he drove. He turned up the radio to drown out the sound of the tires against the asphalt as he merged on the main road and gunned it. The morning was still gray and dewey with fog lingering over the street like something out of a horror movie. It might have been unsettling if the weather wasn’t always like this here. 

You pulled down the sun shade and looked into the small mirror, trying to wipe away the excess mascara and eyeliner underneath your eyes. You hadn’t gotten the chance to yet and your reflection was still winter soldier-esque. 

“Do you want coffee?” Jisung asked. “My treat.”

You narrowed your eyes in suspicion. Jisung never offered to pick up the tab unless he wasn’t sober… or unless he wanted something. Still, you ignored your better judgment and thought maybe he was just being nice after your rough night. 

“Sure, that sounds good.” 

He handed you his phone so you could put in the order for the two of you. Cold brew with almond milk for him and an iced caramel vanilla latte with oat milk for yourself. They were saved under his favorites on the menu along with his debit card. You sent in the order and handed the phone back to him just as it buzzed with a notification from his dms. 

“Oh yeah, did you end up going home with that girl last night?” you asked with a smirk, remembering how he’d spent most of the party pressed up against a stranger with bright green hair. 

He shook his head. “No, she told me she had a final today.”

“Today’s Saturday.”

“I know.”

You made a sympathetic face. “That’s rough, buddy.”

“Don’t Prince Zuko me right now.”

“Sorry, couldn’t help myself.” You gave him a not-at-all-reassuring pat on the shoulder. “You win some, you lose some.”

“Feels like I’ve been losing a lot lately,” he muttered. “It’s like I’m on a streak or something.”

“I’m sure you’ll turn that around this summer,” you said confidently. Jisung gave you a weird look. “What?”

“Did you not read the emails I sent you?”

You blinked. “The emails-”

“Did you not listen to the voicemails I sent you?”

“I uh- I listened to them but I don’t… you emailed me? You never email me.” 

You unlocked your phone and scrolled to the mail app, ignoring the red 12,848 unread messages icon in the corner that taunted you day and night. At the very top of your inbox was an email from Jisung that had been forwarded from… his mom? You looked back up at him in confusion, but he was concentrated on the road ahead and refused acknowledge you. 

You opened the email, hoping for some clarity, but its contents gave you none. Instead, Flight Information for Jisung + 1 stared back at you in bold font from the subject line. You scanned down the rest of the message briefly, finding yourself more and more lost as it went on. 

“Han, what is this?” you asked. The nausea from your hangover had flip-flopped into dread that settled in the pit of your stomach.

“It’s the stuff for the trip,” he replied like it should have been obvious. “You said you’d go.”

“I said I’d think about it,” you clarified.

“Yeah, and then later you came back and told me you’d go.”

You sat back in your seat, trying to remember. “I-I did?”

Jisung whipped his head in your direction with a panicked look on his face. “Do you not remember?”

“Not in the slightest.” 

“God fucking damn it, I should’ve known you were blacked out. You don’t remember any of it?”  he asked again, perhaps thinking that if he asked enough times you’d magically remember. You shook your head reluctantly. Jisung sighed. “Well, like an hour and a half after you told me you’d think about it you came back and told me you’d do it and we talked about it some more and I texted my mom right then because she’s been bugging me about it for weeks and-” 

 “Hey, don’t worry about it, okay?” your voice shook as you spoke. Suddenly it all made sense. Why Jisung thought you might be freaking out this morning, the voicemails, the coffee, all of it. Maybe it was the alcohol from the night before talking, or some weird sense of best friend duty, but you knew what you had to do. You probably would have ended up doing it anyway. “I told you I’d go… so I’ll go.”

“Are you sure?” 

“Yeah,” you nodded, forcing a smile. “It’ll be fun, right?.”

“Yes, absolutely it will be fun. I promise,” Jisung said, letting out a breath and relaxing his grip on the steering wheel. He beamed at you, and honestly whatever shit you’d gotten yourself into was worth it in that moment alone. “Thank you so much, y/n. You’re the best, seriously- I owe you.”

“No shit.”

[novafire-is-thinking]

How to say goodbye ‘see you around’ and mean it…

The time has come.

First thing’s first: this isn’t goodbye—just a heads up.

Due to changes I’m making in my personal life, I’m stepping back from the Transformers fandom for a partial hiatus. My ambition makes me restless, and it’s about time I put some of my plans into action.

Yes, a Chinese person becoming a doctor. How original.

Maybe I’ll turn out like Ratchet. Maybe I’ll suffer long enough to become Pharma.

Only time will tell…

In any case, I don’t plan on totally disappearing from the fandom any time soon. Eventually, I won’t be logged in on the app, but I’ll be accessing the site through a browser a few times a week, or when I have free time.

For the foreseeable future, you’ll see me around primarily on the weekends and Wednesdays—collecting posts for the queue, answering old asks, and maybe making a post once in a while.

What to expect:

The queue will publish a few times a day, and most original posts and extra reblogs will be scheduled.

I have 300+ post ideas saved in my notes and screenshots. My goal is to slowly release these into the wild.

I’ll try to keep writing meta, but when and how will depend entirely on how much free time I have, and what little energy I have to spare.

If I ever have extra time, I might open my ask box and play an ask game or two. Maybe…

Asks, tags, and other things:

If you sent an ask in the past, I probably have it saved either in my inbox or my drafts. Yes—even the asks that are almost a year old. I have not forgotten, and I still intend to answer, even if the sender doesn’t remember.

My inbox is closed for now, but I’ve set up a fancy little Google form as a replacement: ✨Nova’s Commlink✨

If at any time, you tagged me in something interesting, I saved it in my drafts. If I’ve deemed it worthy of a response, you will see it eventually.

Feel free to keep tagging me in things. I’ll give posts a ‘like’ to confirm I saw them, and if I really like a post, I’ll queue it for later or drop it in my drafts if I want to give a longer response.

If you tag me and I don’t confirm receipt within a few days, drop me a note in the Google form.

If I said I would do something else for you, I haven’t forgotten. It’s on my list, and I will get back to you about it when I’m able.

WIPs:

Fics for my Constellations of Cybertron AU are on hold. I’ll still plot and plan, but it will be a long time before I publish any of those longer stories.

I hope to keep working on my shorter WIPs. I don’t know how much free time or energy I’ll have in the coming days, but I’ll do my best to get them out eventually.

How to reach me:

Anyone (mutual or otherwise) who has my Discord should message me over there. This extends to those I’m in servers with.

Mutuals who don’t have my Discord and anyone I follow here can still DM me through Tumblr.

Everyone else can contact me using the Google form.

Don’t be afraid of bothering me. It may take me a while to respond, but I welcome it.

Last updated: 2/28/24 - (section updated: intro)

[clickbite]

➶ 𝑹𝑰𝑶𝑻 & 𝑫𝑨𝒁𝑬, time to play a 𝒈𝒂𝒎𝒆...

time to get to know you all a little bit better ahead of the desert festivities, babes. click under the cut if you dare, hit the 🩷 and make sure that you have your inbox open. then, pick a number to send to everyone that interacts with this post and specify whether you'd like them to answer the truth, complete the dare, or let them pick their own poison for the infamous sleepover party game: TRUTH OR DARE. one per ask, lovelies. have a good evening, and be prepared… EVERYTHING IS FAIR GAME.

TRUTH OR DARE

( truth ) who was your first celebrity crush? ( dare ) put your music library on shuffle and post the first five songs that play.

( truth ) what’s the most embarrassing thing that’s happened to you in the last month? ( dare ) refresh the dashboard and send an anonymous compliment to the poster at the top of the page.

( truth ) list three things that you like about yourself. ( dare ) list three things that you like about your current crush. not crushing on anyone? WILD CARD: post two people who you’d set up on a date.

( truth ) what’s the nicest thing anyone has ever done for you? ( dare ) post the most recent meme you’ve saved to your phone.

( truth ) if your parents knew every single thing you’ve ever done, what would they think is the worst? ( dare ) tag someone you admire and tell them why.

( truth ) what’s the last thing you impulse purchased? ( dare ) tag someone you’ve thirst followed.

( truth ) how many hours did you sleep last night? ( dare ) send a non-anonymous compliment to the third person on your dashboard.

( TRUTH ) if you could go on a date with any of your mutuals, who would it be and what would you do? ( dare ) send an anonymous confession to any person you choose. 

( truth ) tag your best friend and tell us how you met them. ( DARE ) post the most recent selfie you’ve taken.

( truth ) what was your favorite band ten years ago? ( DARE ) send the most recent person on your dashboard a song on google chats that you think they should listen to.

 ( truth ) where did you get each article of clothing that you’re currently wearing? ( DARE ) who’s sense of style do you wish you could perfectly steal? 

( truth ) what are five of your favorite girl and boy names? ( DARE ) pick any of your mutuals and send them a pickup line.

( truth ) what’s your most irrational fear? ( dare ) send a message to someone you’d like to better know on google chats.

( truth ) what’s your dream job? ( dare ) tag someone you’d like to collaborate with on an upcoming project.

( truth ) what’s one place in the world that you’d love to visit? would you go alone or would you take someone with you? ( dare ) post screenshots of your phone’s lock and home screen.

( truth ) how old were you when you had your first kiss? ( dare ) post a screenshot of the last thing you googled.

( truth ) what is the first thing you remember having to keep a secret? ( dare ) send an anonymous secret to the first person on your dash.

( truth ) what is something you’re currently looking forward to? ( dare ) make me a playlist out of the letters of my name. 

( truth ) what is the last thing you lied about? ( dare ) post the last three text messages you received.

( truth ) what are your three biggest turn ons and what are your three biggest turn offs? ( dare ) go to the most recent playlist you made, post your favorite lyrics from the first three songs. 

( truth ) what are your worst habits? ( dare ) go to your spotify on repeat playlist and post your first five songs. not on spotify? post the five songs you think you listen to the most right now.

( TRUTH ) how do you take your coffee? ( dare ) describe your crush or favorite person without saying their name.

( truth ) what is your favorite movie? ( dare ) tag three people you want to know better and ask them each a different question about themselves.

( truth ) what is the last thing you did that you had to keep secret from someone? ( DARE ) post three songs you’d add to a sexual playlist.

( truth ) what are three things you like about yourself, aside from your physical appearance? ( dare ) send someone an anonymous message with your first impression of them.

[qrzrrae]

CONFESSION WALL || MATTHEW STURNIOLO

Pairing: Popular!Matt , normalgirl!oc

Caution!: This is PURELY fiction. Made for my and others entertainment. If you don't like, don't read x! Also, no Y/N here! Js using random name :')

Authors note: THIS IS MY FIRST FIC YALL. DONT JUDGE PLZZZ 🥹🥲 also no smut C's idk how to write that shit I ACCIDENTALLY POSTED THIS THE FIRSF TIME AND I WASNT DONE YET BUTBHEREEE (part 2 in da making)

It was another normal day at Somerville high, at least for the other students. They don't know that me, I, Scarlette Genevieve Adams, A normal schoolgirl, runs the twitter account where all the juciest secrets are voluntarily put out by other students; The Somerville High Confession wall

Okay okay, if you don't know how this works is well basically, students will DM me their secrets or confessions and I'll post it, anonymously, of course.

The day was tiring. The only time I was motivated to do my work was when I was in physics class. Okay, first, I love science, and next, My crush, Matthew Bernard Sturniolo, sat next to me! I knew I had no chance at all with him, since he was the campus crush and I was like nothing, but I still loved him. Soon, physics class came, finally!! I packed up my stuff and bolted to the lab. I sat down on my desk, next to Matt. He gave me a sweet smile as I sat down, which I returned back to him.

Wait... Did he just fucking smile at me? I realized what he did and soon my face heated up as I started blushing. "Are you okay? You seem a little red there." He chuckled, facing my way. "Oh sure yeah!" I said, quickly hiding my face with a book. He was making me blush even more! "Alright, sureee." He smirked leaning back into his chair and waited for the professor. He looked so hot slouched down on the chair like that..

Finally, the class ended. It felt like we were trapped in there forever. I grabbed my bag and went straight for the door, which was hard enough since my seat was at the back. "Damn. These people are like fucking animals" Matt chuckled peeking over someone's shoulder to see if the line was getting any shorter. "Right? Like I wish I sat in the front." I reply with a chuckle. "You don't wanna sit with me in the back?" Matt said facing towards me while tilting his head slightly. "N-no! I do it's just I wanna be in the front so I could y'know.. Get out faster.." I said nervously. His head tilting made me go crazy. He nodded as the people in the room started to decrease and we were the last ones in the room.

"Alrighty, bye Scar. See ya!" Matt shouted as he waved and ran off. Finally. I can go home and check my new confessions! Checking my twitter DMS were the best parts of my day. Being the owner of the school's confession wall, I knew everything about everyone.

I opened my laptop and quickly opened twitter. 2 new messages. I clicked on my inbox and chose the first message I saw.

Oh of course. To Matthew Sturniolo, my man! I didn't want to be rude so I replied.

Done. I noticed Matt was very active when it came to replying to his admirers. But I was happy when he kept saying "no" to them, it seemed like he was saving his heart for someone, and I thought it was me.

MATT POV

I sighed dramatically as I opened my door to my room. I threw my bag down on the floor. I took my phone out of my bag and kicked my shoes off and laid down on the bed. I opened twitter and saw a new post from the Somerville confession wall account.

Another post, about me, again. I clicked on the post and saw a random girl confess to me. I loved all the attention but it was too much! Everyday, I see letters in my locker and 100 girls confess to me using twitter. I liked, wait no, I loved someone already and I need people to know that.

I hover hesitantly over the message button but I finally brought myself to click it.

I was scrolling through tiktok when I got a message request on twitter, I clicked on the notification and was shocked. Matthew Sturniolo messaged me, to confess? To who?

Oh my fucking word. HE JUST CONFESSED TO ME! TO ME?!?

I jaw slacked open as I read his message. I was shaking so bad.

[becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys]

So my inbox currently contains over 1,600 messages. I am getting Very Overwhelmed, apologies to everyone who is waiting for me to get back to them.

Something I have spotted, though, is that far too many of these have a common theme. Of the top thirty currently sitting at the top of my inbox, 19 are questions about haircare and the CGM. Of those, 12 are exactly the same question - namely, "Is co-washing just washing with conditioner instead of shampoo?" - which I have answered multiple times in multiple different posts, all of which are in my "Hair" tag (the answer is yes, please stop asking).

The other 7 are different hair questions - but, all but one is something I have answered before, in most cases more than once. Again, in my "Hair" tag.

Babes. Loves. Silly rabbits.

I did not sign up to be customer support for CGM.

Listen; I love you all! And I don't mind people asking me novel questions, even, within reason (although I am about to come to that)! But it is not my job to provide this information, and it is absolutely not my job, obligation, responsibility or anything else to keep writing out the SAME INFORMATION again and again and again. It is certainly absolutely not my pleasure to do so, either. I have explained how the method works now. I have explained the sorts of things to avoid. I have recommended CG friendly products. I have tagged all of this.

If you're going to ask me about this stuff, for the love of all that's holy, would you PLEASE look through my damn hair tag first and save me the increasingly stressful task of opening my inbox and seeing another five variants of the exact same already-answered question in a single day. I am not here to provide you a service. I'm here to do you a favour - PLEASE do me one, and check you aren't very literally wasting my time first. As I say, I am more than happy to answer novel questions on this! I'm also happy to clarify if I've worded something in a confusing way! But identical process questions for the seventeenth time in a week is starting to feel disrespectful.

But, I have to also say:

I am just Some Guy on the internet. I am not a professional. I have joked that I am not a Hairxpert, and you've all gone "Lol, yeah, not a Hairxpert, we get it - anyway, what products in America are good? What's your advice for <hair type you don't have?> If I live in an area with hard water (unlike you), what should I do?"

I am Not A Professional.

If you need specialist advice, YOU NEED TO GO AND FIND A SUPPORT GROUP. Buy the handbook, like I did! Go and find one of the hundreds of CGM websites that are free to use! Find a sub-Reddit! These will be full of people who actually are professionals, and will be able to answer these questions. I cannot tell you how best to adapt the method I use for type 4 curls, because I don't have those; you need a professional, or a support group with people who have type 4 curls. I cannot tell you the best styling and drying techniques for pixie cut curls, because my hair is down to my ass; you need a professional, or a support group of curly people with pixie cuts. I cannot tell you the best products to use on a remote island nation I have never even visited; you need a professional, or at the very least, a neighbour.

In fact, as an addendum to that last one, I have now been asked by six different people on separate occasions what my advice is for them because they live on "an island" and can't get the products I use and also can't get Amazon, and... guys!!!? How could I possibly answer that??? You haven't even told me which island, for one, but for quite another, if I'm not a hair expert, I'm certainly not an International Shipping To Remote Islands expert!!! What do you want from me?? I'm just some guy. Who uses a method. I can tell you the basics of it (which I have, extensively), and I can tell you what I personally do (which I have, extensively), and that's it. I have zero expertise beyond that. Anything else is information I would have to try and get from a support group of other people to report back, at which point, you bloody do it. I am not CGM customer support.

To reiterate - I truly, honestly, don't mind getting novel questions that I haven't already answered, or clarifying things that might be confusing; to be honest, it's not like I even massively mind someone going "I live in a desert, how could I combat dryness?". But if you ask me, a Welsh woman, a question like that, you're going to have to accept that my advice is, at best, going to be guesswork or second/third-hand information I once saw someone else mention online somewhere that I have now mostly forgotten if I ever truly saw it at all. Because I do not live in a desert, and I am not a professional.

ALSO A NON-HAIR POINT

I said at the start of this post that 19 of the top thirty messages in my inbox right now are hair questions. Five, though, follow a different pattern.

I imagine this is part of my follower count still exploding (I gained another three thousand of you since August, to give an idea; where the fuck are you all coming from?!? Really like grilled cheese adventures, huh), but I've started getting A LOT of messages from people who blatantly want to use me as a billboard to get their message out. Sometimes a serious message about a vital global issue, sometimes a relatively trivial one about a piece of media they want people to see, and anything in between.

I sympathise. I do understand. But I am not a billboard.

Apart from anything else, I just don't have the time to go fact checking and researching everything to make sure I'm being a Good Billboard, and it would be incredibly irresponsible of me to avoid that step and just blindly go "Sure, yeah, signal boost" and hit publish. If you send me one of these, I am unlikely to do anything with it, I'm sorry. It might put something on my radar, and make me more likely to pay attention when I see the issue being posted organically - when the Iranian protests began someone sent me a message asking me to reblog a particular user's post about it (not their own, it was a separate user). I didn't post that ask, but I did go and manually check the user in question's blog, found a good infographic post there about the protests, and I was able to reblog that. That was fine. But even then, if I hadn't had the time to do that (my life is very busy), that ask would have been buried.

Anyway, I don't want to discourage asks in my inbox generally, nor is this me yelling at anyone or telling anyone off. But with the hair thing in particular, I cannot go on like this pls take pity T_T

[anamericangirl]

I’m too shy to send this ask from my main blog, but I still wanted to tell someone what was on my mind.

Tonight, I’ve read through so many pro life blogs and blogs that are ran by people who are pro life. Your blog was my last stop, and it was the blog that changed my mind.

I used to be pro choice, then for a long time I sat in the middle— not knowing what view I really had.

I’m pro life now. Thank you, and so many others, for changing my mind. I’m going to make a new blog so i can save the posts that helped me understand better.

This might be the best message I’ve ever gotten! I’m so honored to be an influence in your journey from pro-choice to pro-life!

My inbox is always open so please don’t hesitate to reach out if you ever have any questions or just want to chat or share your journey.

If you ever feel comfortable sharing the new blog I’d love to give it a follow!

[harukadrawsthings]

EDIT 7/10/2023: Wow, in less than 24 hours I already got the 5 slots filled! Thank you to everyone and my apologies to those who didn't manage to have a slot in time. There's always a next time! As soon as the replies become ready I upload them but there's no deadline. Stay tuned!

---

Original post 6/10/2023:

Hello, everyone, hoping that this start of Autumn is being good for you!

I've been a little busy dealing with mental health and quotidian stuff but over two thirds of the next part of the comic of Soul(mate)s of Light has been already developed. Thank you for your patience once again, expect its upload in the near future once it's ready to show.

In order to maintain the focus on the comic strips creation I'm re-opening the Ask box for a very short time once again. This post will be updated as soon the inbox gets closed.

After validating the questions of 5 different users made that include at least one to AU characters I'll temporarily close the Ask box once more. First come, first served. So if you were saving questions in the meantime, hurry up and ask them now while slots are available!

BEFORE SENDING AN ASK:

Last time in August when I was checking the pending messages and validating the questions that were suitable for replies I’ve observed a few things that I want to bring out some attention, as well reminding about a few factors:

There were users not respecting the “Maximum three character-directed questions per user” rule. Please consider there are other people that send questions and it’s not fair for them to have to wait longer because somebody made more asks.

For a better management of posts, I also want to ask to please make those three questions in a single post whenever it’s possible instead of sending them separately.

If someone sends me more than 3 character-directed questions per wave of replies, I’ll either only respond to the three first questions and suppress the others, or select the best 3 questions of that message.

Please don’t ask the characters questions about crossovers with IRL IPs unrelated with Pokémon. It’s 99% certain I won’t answer them. I reinforce that I reserve the right to not reply to questions that I find them inadequate to my AU standards or for other reasons not listed in the rules.

Although I don’t forbid questions done to characters that aren’t part of the main/secondary cast of the AU story, please consider that questions made to characters outside that circle are subjected to be unanswered if I conclude that replying them doesn’t bring anything relevant either to the readers or to the AU itself.

If the Ask Button isn’t available it’s because I’m not accepting character-directed asks at the moment. Do not use this thread to send character-directed asks. Please wait for a reopening and save your questions for next time! 😊

Author-directed questions are quicker to be replied than character-directed ones (especially if there's no character-directed ask included in the entire message). If I see it helps to speed up the inbox cleanup I can consider giving priority to answer this type of questions.

A reminder about the original rules to also be considered

Be polite, don't use foul language/swearing.

SFW asks, only! NSFW asks will never be replied.

Gore scenarios are very unlikely to be replied or if it involves a trigger subject that requires a real graphical depicting as well.

I reserve the right to not reply to a character ask if I find it inappropriate or for any other reason not mentioned here.

Maximum three character-directed questions per user. If author-directed questions are included alongside with character-directed questions, please don’t surpass 3 character questions and 2 author questions (making it a total of 5 questions per user).

Due to my personal life and the development of a new comic, replies to the asks won’t have a fixated deadline to be developed and published. Please be patient!

If I find the asks to be suitable for replying I might take some time to draw the character answers since it's something I have to do in parallel with ongoing projects like AU comics or illustrations (and there's my personal life to consider as well, of course!).

The more questions in the same ask message I receive, the more time I'll need to draw them as well since I have to submit every answer on the same post!

I give priority to draw answers for the asks I receive first in my inbox. Asks sent after someone has done it first will be in the drawing queue.

While I don't discard the possibility of drawing replies to questions directed to characters that don't have much relevance to the AU I can consider to do them if I conclude it's doable. However, I recommend that the questions are done for characters that are more prominent to the story.

I highly advice that the questions are asked in English, although I understand questions done in Portuguese or Spanish without having to use automatic translators for other languages.

Thank you in advance!

[nightmargin]

(submission from my inbox, i can't seem to reply to this one directly unless i make a post... ah... i forgot how to use tumblr it seems!):

"hi! this is going to be a lot of me uncontrollably gushing about the video game you helped make. I'm using tumblr's weird submit post function nobody uses because...well, this is probably gonna go on for a long while, and I really have no expectation of a response, so it didn't feel appropriate to use the ask function? just consider this the best digital recreation possible of an envelope with a hastily written piece of fan mail and do with it as you will

because never in my life thus far have I played a game that has more passionately encouraged me to love video games. it demonstrated, CELEBRATED, the human capacity to love things that aren't real and how that love can make them real. the decision of whether to save niko or the world was one that made me sit there and deeply question my actual real life morals for nearly ten minutes, because in that moment I felt real, compelling lives that I loved so much hanging in the balance

I even remember waving goodbye to niko as they left for the last time after my solstice playthrough. I wasn't even thinking about it, it just came so naturally to me in that beautiful little moment.

it's a game that's exactly, almost painfully aware of its own artificiality, and uniquely does nothing to challenge that notion--even when it's terrifying me by doing things games shouldn't be able to do, this too is still acknowledged as the work of the code that makes up this little world in my computer

and I'm so happy that no attempt at this kind of illusion was made. I'm so glad that it didn't need to fixate on whether or not the game was real and instead acknowledged the power of fiction to make anything real in the first place. it was an affirmation I didn't even know I needed, to have my passion for the little constructed worlds in pages and computer screens be respected just the same as that for everything outside them

I don't just love oneshot because it's a good story; it reminded me, a lifelong burnout hoping to make something meaningful with her art, that the worlds we make are worth believing in, and that loving them with all your heart is what creates something beautiful. it makes my wounded old soul happy in a way I was scared I'd lost for good.

you may or may not remember me as the very adrenalized girl with the madotsuki sweater and the crazy poofy hair who bought a bunch of your things at emerald city comic con this last weekend. this is what all my excited bouncing around and stammering was trying to say. thank you so, so very much. <;3"

-----

thank you for the heartfelt message! I'm glad it resonated with you that way. I wanted--we all wanted-- to tell a story that explored the "human" side (so to speak) of a 4th wall break and doesn't hinge on the fact that it was a game, so I'm glad that sentiment was able to get across. Suspension of disbelief was an interesting topic to explore, and I think fictional stories can be comforting in that way because it's (as far as science knows) a uniquely human activity... like you said, it's worth celebrating that!

And thank you for stopping by! It was nice to meet you

[tailorvizsla]

Alright, Tailor, Sith Obi-Wan has invaded and demands more attention. After your encounter with him, you are determined to show him how good and loyal you can be. You take on any project you can that might catch his notice, and when an opportunity to transfer to a position in his main division is announced, you eagerly apply. You make it to the interview round where there is a panel of superior officers and Lord Kenobi himself. You're very prepared and ready to show him how qualified you are. Yet, as soon as those golden eyes lock onto yours, your mind is flooded with images of him and you doing every dirty act you can imagine. You try to focus and answer the questions as best as you can, but each time you look at him, a new filthy scenario comes to mind. At least Lord Kenobi looks amused, and you can only wonder what he must think. The interview ends and you're crushed thinking you've blown you're only chance at working more closely with him.

Ugh OKAY look you can’t keep doing this to me my heart CANNOT take this! Here you go!

(the thot inbox is open fyi if y’all want to send some in!)

Your superiors have been raving about your work for weeks now. Reports? 100% accuracy. Your subordinates? All in line, and most of them even give you good reviews. Your inventory? Not a single nutri-cracker unaccounted for. You’ve been receiving so many positive remarks that you feel like you are literally glowing whenever you turn your data pad on. You’ve been sending money back to your elderly parents back home, and they’ve been taking good care of the rest of the family. You…you really do hope to retire soon, and go back to them. You just want to see them again.

You’re at your desk for another day of reading and filing paperwork when your pad buzzes. A frown crosses your face - you’ve silenced non-critical alerts. The only people who should be able to bypass that are much higher than you in the organization. Nervously, you turn it over and check it, hoping your superior won’t catch you reading messages

Your presence is required for an interview in conference room 19-562.1A at 3:00 PM. Do not be late.

You check the sender, but there’s nothing there except an official stamp from the Corps of Logistics. There’s a tap at your door.

“Lieutenant, reading messages? On the job?” your superior asks in a vaguely teasing tone and you put your pad down in embarrassment.

“I’m sorry, sir,” you say, “I got a note saying that I’m scheduled for an interview at 3? Do you know anything about it?” They shake their head and you frown again.

“Who is it from?” they ask, coming around to your side of the desk.

“It’s a generic message,” you say, showing them the message. “But it’s on the executive floor…” They sigh.

“Well, either someone is really happy with you, or they’re really pissed at you.” You nod in response, and turn worried eyes up at your superior.

“If…anything happens…you’ll send my last check to my family, right?” They give you a mirthless smile and nod. “Your service has been exemplary thus far…we should be able to arrange that.”

You know what organization you work for and the dangers it brings. All it takes is one misinterpreted look and you could be thrown in prison. Or worse.

At 2:40 PM, you head out for your meeting. It’s a short elevator ride away, but if you’re late, you might as well shoot yourself and save them the trouble. You step out into the marble-clad atrium and then step through the ostentatious glass doors. A secretary at the desk gives you a look, their eyes sliding from your rank bar to your face.

“May I help you?” they ask, and you feel like you are being judged harshly by this random person. Still, you nod respectfully and give your name and rank. Then you add on, a bit unnecessarily, “I have an appointment, but I am not certain with whom. Only a generic stamp was used.” They look down at the pad and tilt their head. “Go take a seat. You will be seen shortly.” 

You murmur a hasty, polite thank you and sink down into one of the plush velvet chairs. You cross one leg over the other neatly, your hat in your lap, and your eyes focused on the wall in front of you. The entire room is decorated in harsh scarlets, golds, and white marble, and it looks atrocious. You wonder who committed the crime of decorating here. At least the window grants you a view of the beautiful city outside.

You’re being watched, of course, by the secretary and the numerous cameras around the place, undoubtedly looking for something. You keep as calm as you can. At precisely 3, the door opens. The secretary doesn’t look at you as you get to your feet and head in, following the droid. It leads you to yet another room, where the decor is tastefully done in earthy colors. You wait at the door, standing at attention, waiting for the person who had called you - 

“Sweetheart,” comes the familiar purr. Your body jerks in surprise and your pulse skyrockets. “Sir,” the reply falls automatically from your lips.

You can feel as he comes into the room, his electric presence brushing up against the corners of your mind. He sinks down in his chair and crosses one long, lean leg over the other. He rests his chin in his hand as he watches you. Like before, the presence is subtle, golden, as he tastes your mind. Once he’s satisfied, he gestures you forward. You stop just in front of him, hands at your sides as you stand at attention. 

“Your performance has been exemplary this quarter,” he says. “Were you thinking about having my cock, sweetheart? Or are there other reasons?”

You can’t stop yourself from thinking about your family still living in near-poverty back home, and you decide it’s best to be honest. It’s not like he doesn’t already know what you’re thinking.

“Having your cock would be nice, sir,” you say. “But I also have family back home. My brother…he wants to become an artist.” You cut yourself off from your rambling. Don’t be a distraction. He didn’t ask for you to elaborate. Lord Kenobi hums as he looks at the pad in his hands.

“Truly phenomenal work, sweetheart…perhaps it is time for your reward?” he asks, looking up at you. Pure heat fills you, and he gestures for you to sit down. He levitates another pad to you.

Position: Imperial Administrative Assistant, Level 7 Pay Grade: 7A - SRT5 Hours: Standard Travel: 25% of the month is typical, but may require longer stretches depending on circumstance. Clearance: 8-TN9 or Higher Qualifications: Recommendation from superior. Five years in administrative assistant position, specialization in diplomacy/negotiations… 

You frown in confusion. He watches you intently. The pay increase is mind-boggling.

“I’ve recommended you for a transfer,” he purrs. “Should you accept, you and I will be seeing each other far more frequently.”

You stare down at the pad for a moment, “Lord Kenobi, I am truly honored…however, I do not have these qualifications…and I am afraid I won’t be able to provide the same level of service I am providing in my current position. Will that be a problem?”

He gives you one of those soft, dangerous smiles. “That will be no issue. You will be taught all you need to know.”

At long last, you swallow down your anxiety, and ask, “If I pass the interview…who would I be working with?” He waves your comment off. “Do not concern yourself with that information. Your interview is at 4 PM.” You frown. “Tomorrow?” He gives you an annoyed look.

“Today,” he says curtly, and pure horror fills you.

“What? I haven’t prepared - my resume isn’t updated,” you babble out, “I don’t have recommendations, and I haven’t even had a chance to ask my references for permission to give their information out - sir, I - “ He waves you away. “You’ll be fine. You may go wait in the lobby for the interview.” 

Standing on shaking legs, you get to your feet and scuttle away. The secretary doesn’t give you a second look as you step out into the blazing red and gold hellscape in the lobby. You take a minute to try and center yourself - you’re being tested under pressure, that’s what they’re doing. They want to know you can handle last minute changes. Swallowing, you sit down and try to go over the questions you could still remember from your interview for your current position.

All too soon, you’re called back for the interview, and you step into the same room as before. You can see six much higher ranking individuals at a desk. Lord Kenobi sits at the head of the table, his golden eyes fixed on you. Oh, you’re fucked. So, so fucked. Your mouth is dry as Tattooine right now, and you’re pretty sure you’re shaking in your boots. You sit down at the end of the table by yourself.

The first few questions are standard - name, rank, how long you’ve been working at the Empire, and what your daily routine is like. As the nerves start to wear off, you feel a tiny bit more comfortable, and your death grip on your hat loosens. The Admiral asks your first landmine question, probably designed to test your diplomatic skill.

“Why did you apply for this position?” he asks, his nose curling slightly as he looks down at your profile, “You haven’t the qualifications.”

“I was recommended for this position, sir,” you say calmly. “I am aware I am unqualified, but it is my greatest hope that I can continue learning so that I may perform well, if I am chosen for this role.” 

- warmth engulfs you, and you’re spread out in a nest of soft, silken sheets and pillows. A warm, wet mouth covers yours as a hand squeezes your thigh. As your head falls back, you feel something probing at your folds, something warm and blunt and - 

You swallow and try to push the thought away as the others discuss something between themselves. You try to ignore the heat rising in your belly as another Admiral speaks.

“...and are you aware of what this position will entail, exactly?” she asks, a brow raised at you.

You recite the requirements back at them, and they share a look between themselves. They go back to muttering.

- a gasp falls from your lips as you dig your fingernails into someone’s back. His cock starts to inch inwards, spreading your slick walls open. He’s so, so thick it makes you squirm and whine, forcing you to gasp for air as your poor little pussy strains to take him all in - 

Oh no, not right now. Why is your brain misbehaving? You hope they can’t tell that you’re squirming in your chair as you try to remain calm.

“Lord Kenobi, I do not believe she is fully educated on what this position will entail,” the Admiral says carefully. “I think it would be…ethical…if we reiterate the requirements to her.”

Lord Kenobi gives you a small smirk.

- he finally seats himself all the way inside, drawing a short, soft cry from you. His teeth find your shoulder and he starts to move. As he pumps into your body, your sodden cunt makes the most obscene sounds, wet and loud and messy -

“She knows exactly what she will be doing if she chooses to work under me,” Lord Kenobi says.

With a rush, you realize that’s why he recommended you for this role. Pure heat fills you - this time, it’s all your own, and you gnaw on your lower lip. Boldly, you look him in the eye and ask the most important question you have for him.

“Would I be your slave, sir?” you ask. “Or will I be your equal?”

The others exchange a look as Lord Kenobi gives you a long look. You’re not going to be a toy to be tossed aside once he’s bored. If he really wants you in his bed, if he truly wishes to have you, he will have to be prepared to have all of you. And if he’s not prepared to give you that, you’re not sure you can fulfill that role in his life. Sith Lord or not, you will be treated with respect, and you will not settle for anything less. He smirks at you.

“You can never be my equal,” he says, and you know that’s true. You’re not a Sith lady, and you don’t have the same desire for conquest that he does. “But…you will never be a toy. You will be mine - body, mind, and soul. You will sit by my side, and only mine.”

“Does that go both ways, sir?” you dare to ask.

He laughs. 

“Come here, sweetheart,” he says, and you obey. You hope the Admirals can’t see the shaking of your legs, or how drenched the back of your pants are. Lord Kenobi pats his knee and you sink down, embarrassed of the wet spot you will undoubtedly leave on his linen pants. He tilts your face up to his and stares deeply into your eyes.

“You will serve me well,” he says.

“I’ll send the transfer orders,” one of the Admirals says. “You have chosen well, Lord Kenobi.”

“You may leave,” Lord Kenobi says to the Admirals. “I require privacy with my new assistant.”

[dadzawa004]

Update-ish (I'm back)

Hi kiddos. I'm sorry for our absences lately. That isn't really like us to do. Alot has happened since our last post and it's safe to assume that I'll probably be the only one posting for awhile. And on top of this, our account got purged around midnight where we live, and our account got deleted for a bit. So we had to stay up for hours trying to get it back— unfortunately we weren't able to save our inboxes or messages. so everything is gone. I deeply apologize little ones. We don't have much time to post alot since we have School and then after go to work. But I promise as a single individual I can try my best

The good news is that we have a three day weekend, and I don't have work. Ill try to be as active during that time being. Until then it's mostly just reblogging.

also, please don't worry about me. We are fine now. It was a hill we fell down. But we are at the bottom now. So we're okay

[theold-ultraviolence]

Bro I’m so sorry it’s been like six years since I hopped in your inbox and I’m not caught up on the new Aemond and Co LoreTM but new father Aemond and falling asleep holding his eldest because he doesn’t quite trust the nurses yet and his wife is like “adorable. Now how tf do I extract my sleeping child from the arms of the literal best sword fighter in the land” while the servants watch

HELLOOOO MY DARLING! we must be connected cause just yesterday I was reminiscing about the au! sorry I didn't get to this message, but I've been hauling ass these days, trying to survive the last weeks of my semester.

ok SO! i'm so sad because I had a couple of memes saved that reminded me of raven dad!Vaelarys but I ran out of storage space on my phone and I think I deleted them. I have to find them again cause they were so gooood. Other than that there haven't really been any new developments on this family. But @moonchildrenandflowercrowns and I toyed with the idea of Elaena having had a surprised pregnancy when Aemes II is already all grown and has been a menace to society. So there might be room to keep developing big brother!Aemes.

OK BUT AEMOND, WIFE, AND ELAENA ALL SLEEPING IN THE SAME BED THE FIRST YEARS OF ELAENA'S INFANCY IS SO PRECIOUS TO ME AND NOW I CAN'T UNTHINK. Reader doesn't dare to separate them because of the chaos that might ensue, so it becomes a thing, where they all sleep cuddled up together, with Elaena between them. Which is unconventional, and anyone who might find out that Aemond does this would be sent to the wall, guaranteed. But it's their little thing, bringing Aemond the utmost peace to fall asleep with his baby girl in his arms.

[vanivanvanilla]

if you like silly minecrafters i have a series for you: the purge smp!!

what’s the purge smp?

the purge smp was a minecraft smp that ran from january 2021 to around march 2021, it’s lifespan being short due to a loss of interest from some of those involved.

this smp, which was created by basicallyidowrk and fourzer0seven, had teams of three spend each week gathering resources and preparing their bases for the weekly purge, where any and all crime would be legal.

the purge would happen every friday and lasted for one hour (with the exception of the first week’s purge which lasted 2 hours). the only exception to this was the destruction of buildings at spawn that were granted immunity, such as the courthouse of schmeg. they also used proximity chat!

the teams (except one) had colored nametags and a few of them had team names, including:

pork patties (light green)- i am wildcat, daithi de nogla, terroriser

(orange) - moo snuckel, basicallyidowrk, fourzer0seven

team sickos (dark red) - chilledchaos, shubble, zeroroyalviking

(black) - petezahhutt, notmystic7, jtgily

bearfists and the other guy (white) - smii7y, kryozgaming, blarg

the crew (light blue) - kyrsp33dy, sidearms4reason, thedeluxe4

(yellow) - bigpuffer, elasticdroid, grizzy

(red) - kruzadar, taydertot, toastfps

(purple) - racingcatz, slackatk, azn_purefatal

(dark green) - iamtrevormay, miltontpike1 [also played a character called “schmeg”], legiqn_

(pink) - blakecissel, hitchariide, jorgesummertime

some recognizable mcyts that were involved are shubble and petezahhutt!

there were also guests on the server, who were not (or weren’t supposed to be) affiliated with any team. these people consist of vanossgaming (reporter for the purge smp; has an obvious bias for the pork patties) and noahj456 (might be wrong about noah, but i’m honestly not sure if he’s teamed with anyone or not)

my personal favorite pov is smii7y’s (who has two videos, one of the first day and the other being the first purge) but for a longer watch i’d reccomend wildcat’s pov!

there’s also this playlist that has a bunch of the purge smp videos and stream vods along with some clips, funny moments, and animatics from the smp :]

most of the members have made videos and streamed the purge smp! while some streams are still available (such as a few of nogla’s), others like pete’s i unfortunately haven’t been able to find anywhere

also, i plan to post the last three of smii7y’s purge smp vods somewhere (maybe youtube) since i saved them last year :D so i’ll post a link when i do that

if anyone has any questions about the server or anything i talked about, feel free to send a message to me or my inbox and i’ll answer it to the best of my ability!! :D