#but i always catch myself wondering what other people think of me in public and i think about that line

[luxeberries]

i think about bo burnham saying 'if you can live your life without an audience, you should do it' at least once a day

[sgiandubh]

So in other words, you agree, Sam and Cait are not very good actors as exemplified by the scene being them and not Beauchamp and Fraser. On that, agreed. She might be a C actor, he's definitely a D

Dear Beauchamp and Fraser Anon,

I suspect you might be a returning one, by the way, hoping to catch me unprepared with a very cheap sophism. Check this concept on Wikipedia if you wish, but I will give you my definition: manipulated or derailed logic, i.e. formally sustainable, but in reality just a fallacy; or, if you prefer, a bunch of crap, just for the sake of it. Also, it would be wise not to try these cheap tricks on someone trained to work with words and doing so every single day: you might find no satisfaction, ultimately.

Fun fact: I don't agree with any single word you just wrote. Sam and Cait are very good and gifted actors. Both of them. They did wonders with a very inconsistent script and under barbaric public pressure. What dragged you in here, Anon? Mrs. Gabaldon's florid, even luxuriant prose? What kept you in here, Anon? Blood and sperm and rape galore? I should wish you were honest, at least for once in your life, and let your answer be 'not really'.

What I meant by that phrase was something very simple: the actors' life experience deeply informing and sublimating their performance. If you think real and creative lives are strictly separate affairs in any intellectual endeavor, then you are probably completely unfamiliar with anything remotely related to writing, singing, playing (an instrument), acting, composing or painting. All these are akin to magic and all of the above are a summoning of sorts: ask any 'content creator', you will probably get a very similar answer. In Cait and Sam's case, their real life story nurtures and elevates their acting, despite people like you.

I am not an actor myself, but a long time ago it was acting that liberated me and taught me to not be afraid of anything. I did not make a living out of it, but I will always have the tools making me able to access that very special energy, any time I should need it. So, I can only offer you an educated opinion of These Two:

C is a very, very good actress. She is classy, sophisticated and knows instinctively how to occupy a stage or a set. She worked and progressed a LOT since Season 1, when it took me a good while to warm up to her. Add to this what I think is arresting beauty. Not really a C-level, in my book.

S is a wonderfully gifted actor who, unlike C, does not have any idea of this potential and, to be honest, gives the impression to even not care about it. He singlehandedly dominated some of the most difficult moments of the series (that unwatchable Wentworth episode comes to mind). His mastery of the Stanislavski and Lecoq methods and techniques is excellent. He is likeable, personable and has an innate emotional intelligence, helping him navigate and compensate the weaknesses of (yes, I insist!) an often insufficient script. I have already written about it, with arguments, when I found some very interesting parallels between The Fiery Cross episode and Laurence Olivier's performance in Shakespeare's Henry V. I will say it again: this guy has been grossly miscast, spare for JAMMF.

Perhaps you are unfamiliar with the whole preparation and rehearsal process when producing a movie or a series or a theatre show. These people don't just learn their lines by heart and turn up for readings and rehearsals. They also read and watch a lot of things that could help them build better, more credible characters. But what makes the sometimes very subtle difference between a decent performance and a stellar one is the amount of themselves they allow inside their acting. And in this respect, I think Sam and Cait have been very lucky, in what is a very clear case of Art (instinctively) imitating Life.

I doubt this answered your question and to be honest, I don't care.

[cuckoo-on-a-string]

Younger Gods: III

Younger Gods Master List Dream x fem!reader

Chapter 2

Dangerous magic and old friends lay the foundation of a fate foretold, and Morpheus spends too much time in the library.

Warnings: language, briefly referenced suicidal ideation, self-neglect/harm, extreme sleep deprivation, Dream is still his own damn warning

A/N: First - THANK YOU ALL. Seriously. You're amazing, I love you, and I'm working on catching up on comments. Now for the bad news. Ya'll broke chapter 2. Like, literally. I went to edit the tags list and Tumblr said nope. Imagine a small, family car with dozens of people stacked inside and hanging off the roof. It just won't go. The chapter also didn't show up in the story tags, at least whenever I checked. So...

*The taglist is officially discontinued*

I am making that up with something special, though, so make sure to read the A/N at the end!

Chapter 3: Darker Fates

“Gracious, darling, you look dreadful.”

She collapsed into the rickety café chair. Across the laminate table sat her oldest friend. Her one friend. And she immediately wondered how much to tell him. Only two days stood between her and her involuntary trip down memory lane, between her and the Sandman. She’d seen dark birds from the corner of her eye once or twice, but they always turned out to be crows and magpies. That didn’t mean Matthew wasn’t following her, of course.

She hadn’t escaped the consequences of her actions yet, and she didn’t want to drag one of the precious few people she cared about into the muck.

“What happened to your courtly manners?”

“What happened to your face?” He shuddered delicately, burying the real concern she caught in his sharp grey eyes with dramatics. Signaling the waitress behind the counter, he added, “We’ll need another pot of tea, please.”

The woman blushed and hurried off to fill the order. Doubtless, he’d been flirting while he waited. Damn silver fox. Although he was over one thousand years old, he wore it well. His greying curls and tidy beard looked playful rather than unkempt.

“Do you have what I need?”

He nodded. “Tea’s on it’s way.”

“Not the damn tea, Taliesin.”

The twice-born bard sucked on his teeth, glancing from the front windows to the back counter. Only spilled coffee stains and a sticky smear of jam occupied the other tables. He acted like this kind of deal might draw attention, and he had good reason to think twice about handling magical items in public, but no one cared what two people meeting up at two in the afternoon in a cheap café shared over a cup of tea.

He slipped his hand into his coat pocket and retrieved a small, stoppered bottle. The liquid inside moved like tar, oozing up the side of the glass as Taliesin angled it in the light. Even caution couldn’t banish his instincts as a showman.

“Understand.” He looked her in the eye, his scintillating smile packed away for a stone glower. “This is a cruelty, not a blessing. Now, I won’t ask why you need it. I wouldn’t insult you like that. But it’s my responsibility to tell you this is a bad idea.”

She could think of worse.

Before she could explain herself, the waitress pranced over with the tea. She set the pot between them and provided a fresh cup and saucer. Taliesin grinned, winked, and sent her on her way again with a word of thanks.

“One day your philandering will get you into trouble, old man.”

He sniffed and poured the tea, adding the slightest splash of milk, just the way she liked it. “I never begin something from which I cannot safely extricate myself. And, besides, a little teasing will make her day.”

He slid the cup across the table, and she wrapped her hands around the porcelain to drink in the heat through her chilly palms. She couldn’t seem to stay warm these past few weeks. Anyway, tea wasn’t what she’d come to drink.

“Will it keep me awake forever?”

“Nothing is forever. Nothing you can taste, touch, or smell.” He sounded both chiding and nostalgic. “But this will last seven years and seven days.”

“Good enough. What do you want in exchange?”

Tutting, he tucked the potion back in his jacket, and she sagged in her seat. “Tea first. I have grand and patronizing cautions to give.”

She lifted the cup, maintaining eye contact as she took the biggest, loudest slurp she could manage. It tasted nice, and its warmth felt even better in her stomach and throat than it had on her skin. Why did the bastard have to be right about everything?

The twinkle in his eye suggested he knew what station the train of her thoughts had left, and he slurped from his own cup in merry retaliation.

“First,” he licked a drip from his mustache, “and foremost: this is vile magic. It doesn’t gift wakefulness – it steals rest. The fae designed it with little prisoners like you in mind, to be taken in spaces where time melts and enchanted food will cheat the body’s need for sleep. Since – I dare presume – you do not have those safeguards, this could kill you.”

He left the words to sink in, trying to scare her off the purchase. When she reached out to see if he knew someone willing to make this potion, he’d leapt at the opportunity himself. It was his way of protecting her, and it gave him a chance to interfere with what he clearly saw as self-harm.

Since she wasn’t sure she could survive another nightmare like the one Dream hauled her through, she’d take her chances with death by her own hand.

“Consider me warned, but it doesn’t change anything.”

Taliesin bowed his head over his teacup, groaning. Any fantasies that he could talk her off her current path finally cracked. “You really are stubborn, rain cloud.”

“I learned from the best.”

“Oh, no. That you found all your own.” His smile grew back, wan but alive. His hand settled on the table, palm up, and she abandoned her tea to settle her hand over his.

“Just promise,” he said with a gentle squeeze, “that if you feel anything going off, if you even suspect something’s wrong, you’ll call your old friend Taliesin. Okay?”

She squeezed back, trying to smile for him, but she was too tired to make the expression stick. “Okay.”

Nodding to himself, he echoed the agreement again, “Okay,” and reached into his pocket. He slipped the bottle between their joined hands, and she pulled away to put it in her sweater.

“What do you want in return?”

“Well!” He smacked the table with both hands, grinning in a way that promised trouble. “I thought long and hard about it, but rather than jewels, or secrets, or power, I think what I would most like from a lovely young storm god is…” He paused, glancing meaningfully out the window at the dreary, grey-yellow afternoon. “A walk in the rain with my favorite little cloud.”

He sounded so damn happy about it he infected her with the feeling. It was nice to be needed. Wanted. Even if she’d just lied to his face.

A friendly rain gathered and fell as Taliesin got up to pay the bill. He left the waitress looking pleased with herself – and probably a generous tip. Then he came to meet his rain cloud at the door. An umbrella appeared from some hidden pocket and he grinned, holding out his elbow for her to link arms with him.

“I always come prepared,” he bragged as they stepped out into the shower.

“You say that like you don’t live in Wales.”

“I never said you were the only thing I came prepared for.”

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

Given the mother’s name to track, Lucienne did eventually find the record of the little storm god’s dreams, but they were useless to Morpheus. He studied the handful of pages warped by the curse she wore around her neck with mounting frustration. Apart from reports of which nightmares feasted on her pain during her brief, forced rests, they gave him nothing.

Her mother’s dreams proved more illuminating. They, at least, gave him a line of inquiry to follow.

The woman dreamed about her child from the moment it was born, from the minute the father tore her away to trade. The mother wandered endless rooms, following a crying child’s voice while she slept. She dreamed of little coffins and wailing infants she couldn’t find in nurseries dripping with gore.

Arcane shapes and dead languages shadowed her sleeping hours as she learned magic. In the waking world, she became a capable witch. There, as in the Dreaming, every hope and wish bent to finding her baby.

She never gave up her pursuit.

But in the end, it was the daughter who found the mother.

Her favorite dream grew out of a memory. A rainy afternoon, a crack of lightning, and a knock on the door. A painfully thin teenager stood on the steps, dripping in a thunderstorm, looking up with wondering eyes. If Morpheus had any doubts as to the girl’s identity, the scars around her neck put them to rest. She still had blood in her hair, rusty smudges caught in the grooves of old scars, fresh hurts and healed wounds calling to the mother’s instinct to protect and care for.

Although she had plenty of nightmares about losing her daughter again – finding her bed empty, losing her in a crowd – the nature of her somnolescent musings shifted. Softened.

And a familiar face came to call. The Welsh bard, Taliesin, whom the demi-god child kept safe at the cost of her hands, brought little gifts to the old woman and her young daughter. His winks brought warm flushes to the mother’s dreams, and she rested easier at night knowing that her little girl would not be entirely alone in the end.

She had sacrificed ten years of her life to a fairy bargain that won her nothing but a hand-sized portrait of her baby girl during her long search. By the time the child returned, her mother had grown old. They only had twelve years together before the lost child lost her mother.

The woman died. The record ended. But Dream knew where to look next.

Abandoning his throne for the library, he wrestled against a growing sense that he was running out of time. Time for what? Time for whom?

He was still Dream of the Endless. He still had a realm and billions of dreamers to manage. The puzzle of the storm god who brought home his raven lingered like a toothache, but he could not abandon his responsibilities. Determined as he may be to remove the golden collar from both the Dreaming and the dreamer, the curse had lingered for decades without disturbing anything significant.

It had been months since he picked through her dreaming mind to discover more about her – more about the curse. Only now, as the things settled back into a comfortable kind of order, could he indulge his curiosity, his side-quest as Death mockingly called his interests. And he was more than interested. The longer the questions lingered, the more of his attention they consumed.

Perhaps it was the crossroads. The Fates said he’d already pushed the storm god towards a darker fate, but they never said it was too late to change that course, and the three often left the most important truths unsaid.

If only he knew what to look for. Perhaps that was why he spent so much time and energy researching the collar. It gave him a target. Without it, he felt like a dreamer caught in a pitch-black nightmare, groping blindly for anything with which to reclaim the light.

But he did not have to search alone.

“Lucienne.”

His librarian looked up from a stack of new, peering over the rim of her spectacles. “Did the mother’s dreams help you find what you needed, my lord?”

“In part. Though I need another volume.” He handed over the two records, the mother’s dreams and the storm god’s. Lucienne set down her tower of work and went to shelve the two immediately. They slotted beside each other, the mother’s name in curling script, the daughter’s blank.

“You know,” Lucienne said, “I only found the nameless one’s record because the mother’s kept reshelving itself with the daughter’s book. I fixed it twice before I realized. It’s rather sweet.” She sighed. “If vexing. What volume do you require, my lord?”

Morpheus spared the books another glance, wondering how much of the mother’s arcane studies had influenced her history of dreams. But she’d given him all she could, and now he must turn to the living for answers. “The bard Taliesin’s records, and anything else we have on his history.”

“That is more a section than a collection, lord.”

“Yes.” It wasn’t his first time encountering the bard. “I may need to speak with him, but he will be loathe to leave a story once he is introduced. I’d prefer to find answers in the records. Will you help me?”

“Of course. Give me a moment.” Lucienne paused. “Give me several moments, please, my lord.”

On Lucienne’s first trip, she retrieved the official record of Taliesin’s dreams. He’d lived a long life, and he dreamed vibrantly. The tome was several feet thick, and the library echoed when the librarian set it on the table.

“Thank you, Lucienne.”

“I’ll fetch the rest, sir.”

Taliesin’s early works, recorded on parchment and scrolls, sat between books published under a dozen nom de plumes in later centuries. When the librarian returned with a cart stacked high with history books referencing and theorizing over the man and his myth, Morpheus excused her.

“These should suffice, Lucienne. I will let you know if I do not find my answers here.”

“Of course, sir.” She brushed dust from her immaculate coat, checking the sleeves, before folding her hands neatly behind her back. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”

Already buried in the works of Taliesin’s unconscious mind, he shook his head. “Not at this time.”

She bowed and left. The library would be chaos without her. He could remember when it was. It was no mean feat, organizing a universe of stories. It made her wise in ways he had only just begun to appreciate.

The man whose dreams he searched enjoyed other kinds of wisdom. He’d gained a third of the world’s knowledge by accident, but he’d spent the better part of his life learning the other two thirds by choice. Advisor to kings, story-weaver, and a natural mage, he had the wisdom and craft to recognize some of the magic wrought into the storm god’s collar. He’d tried to take it off when they first met, and he studied for a means to free her after his escape.

Morpheus wanted to know what the bard found.

However, though his dreams in the past few decades often welcomed a shade of the storm god to play out adventures and tragedies as part of a colorful cast, Taliesin’s attention did not linger on the curse. It was little more than a bright shadow that pricked his conscience.

He sat back in the chair, glowering at the books that had failed him.

It seemed every whisper of progress led to more questions in this riddle, and not for the first time, he wished the library could offer more insight to the happenings of the waking world. He should not need to ask for help so often.

At least, unlike the storm god, the bard embraced his dreams. Like all great storytellers, he had explored his fantasies and fears ravenously. When he next slept, Morpheus would pry loose some answers. It shouldn’t be difficult. The bard dearly loved the sound of his own voice.

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

Taliesin presided over a court of housecats.

He was aware enough to know the royal courtiers of Edward II did not, originally, have literal claws, but it made perfect sense in the moment. Edward and Gaveston were in the corner, playfully wrestling – maybe – while Isabella stalked closer with murder in her vertical pupils.

“This is not the way,” he huffed, plucking a kitten from the mob joining ranks behind Isabella, a gorgeous tortoise-shell with no interest in his opinion. The kitten sprang spread-eagle back to the floor.

Chaos. Absolute chaos.

His favorite idiot, his little rain cloud, curled under the steps to the dais. She’d found herself, once again, where she did not belong, and if her eyes didn’t reflect the torches set around the room, he never would’ve known she was there. It was the wrong court altogether, but she had a talent for trouble and a gift for surprises.

Dropping to his knees, he reached under the wooden platform to coax her out. She’d become a fetching little half munchkin, half Norwegian forest cat caught in the lanky middle ground between kitten and grown cat. A menace, to be sure, but too cute to ignore.

“Come out and play with your friends,” he said as she wriggled even farther out of reach. “It isn’t good to hide all the time. You need to do some seeking, too, lovee.”

But she was very determined and his arms just weren’t long enough, so he manifested a trail of nibbles to catch her attention. He could be patient. He could be tricksy. Good friends, he firmly believed, should be both, because sometimes people were just too stupid or too stubborn to accept the help they obviously needed.

He sat up to kneel below the empty thrones and clapped his hands on his thighs.

Well. He’d done what he could for now. Across the room, poor Gaveston was learning the price of being a king’s favorite. The yowls and cries almost distracted him to the point he didn’t see the massive black Maine Coon stalk into the throne room. The cat’s eyes glowed, both literally and metaphorically. In his kneeling position, Taliesin actually had to look up to see those eyes, and he gulped, wondering if he was about to be eaten.

“I have questions for you, bard.” The cat spoke with authority in a voice like honeyed night.

Taliesin recognized it, though it hadn’t come from a cat before, and he dismissed all thought of stupid whot, why, what, how demands.

It may be his imagination at work, but it was not his realm.

“Dream King.” He bowed. Then he remembered he was dreaming and squinted at the cacophonous mess of the long-dead king’s feline transformation. “Ah. This makes so much more sense.”

The cats blinked out of existence, or at least out of his dream, and he sat back on his heels. The stone chamber grew quiet. A plaintive meow from beside the stops, however, proved not all the cats had gone. The junior cat approached and let him sweep her into his arms, even purring when he scratched under her chin.

Still aware of the Endless – no longer in cat-form  – Taliesin allowed himself a moment to enjoy this imagined pleasure. The little storm god made an adorable ball of fur. “You’d never make this so easy in the waking world, would you?”

She sized his finger with claws and teeth to prove she wasn’t easy in any world.

“There is unwelcome magic in the Dreaming.” The Nightmare King didn’t wait for Taliesin’s focus, confident as any monarch that his words would be heard, that the listener would take note and action. “You have studied it.”

Taliesin nodded, taking his word for it and stroking his friend the kitten as he picked through his long memory for anything of interest to the King of Dreams. “I have studied many shapes of magic, lord.”

“This one is close to you.”

Some darker note in the Dream King’s voice snagged Taliesin’s ear, and he looked away from the cat to study his face. Lips bent in a frown, brows pinched, the king had his starry eyes pinned to the creature in the bard’s arms. Taliesin looked back down to see a phantom of the collar growing around the kitten’s neck. She writhed against it, mewling in pain, staring up at him like he could do anything to help her.

He’d tried, and he’d tried again. He still hadn’t given up entirely.

Couldn’t the poor thing’s shade at least find relief in his dream?

She scratched him in her fit, and he bundled her closer, pinning her fast and safe as he’d failed to do when she was small and alone and willing to suffer in his stead. Even if he couldn’t free her, he’d never abandon her.

The truth of the matter struck him. He felt the cat shudder against his heart when she’d been so calm and accepting a moment ago, and he knew.

“So, you’ve met my favorite idiot.”

“Yes.”

The word betrayed nothing, not how they met, not how he felt. But he wanted to banish the collar once and for all, and Taliesin could get on board with that.

“It’s fairy-make,” he said. “Broken in the waking world, but still manifests in the Dreaming.”

“I know. What I do not know is why. What terms closed the circle around her neck? It appeared to suppress her godly half in life.”

Taliesin tried to cradle the cat even closer without suffocating her. “If you do not mind my asking, lord, how do you know even that much?”

“I saw it,” the king said, casually, like it wasn’t one of the worst things the bard had ever heard, “in her dreams, in her recollection of the past.”

Closing his eyes, the bard took a deep, deep breath in through his nose. He had to hold it for a minute, because it desperately wanted to leave his throat with a string of curses Dream of the Endless would not enjoy. When he was sure he could exhale without heaping abuse on the dolt’s head, he let the breath go. He did it all one more time, and then he said, “I think I understand why she wanted to stay awake.”

Eyes still shut, he murmured to himself, “Why didn’t she tell me? Self-destructive little –”

When he finally looked, the world had changed. Gone was the castle, the throne, and the sweet little cat from his arms. He’d imagined a cheap bedsit in Cardiff, the kind of place the little storm god may stay on the run – and she was definitely on the run, from nightmares if nothing else.

The young woman lay sprawled in a puddle of moonlight, half dead, and fading fast. Her skin clung to her bones, eyes sunken, old wounds open and bleeding from malnutrition and scurvy.

The empty potion bottle sat on the windowsill.

Dream of the Endless studied the scene with clear interest, and Taliesin beat down his protective urges in the name of pragmatism. If she was running from Lord Morpheus, she wouldn’t turn to Taliesin for help when the potion dragged her to the brink of death. It wouldn’t be a life lesson she could grow through. It would be a life ended.

“She came to me a few months ago,” he said, hoping the Endless would care enough about the woman shackled to the curse to consider her in his grand schemes. “She wanted a potion to stave off sleep. I told her it was dangerous, and I thought she’d come to me for help soon, that I could teach her something, but –”

The body on the floor laid so still. How many months had it been? How close was this nightmare to reality?

“I said her dreams would be kinder when she next slept,” the king murmured.

He didn’t have to say he didn’t understand.

Taliesin crossed his arms and cleared his throat. Someone, at least, would learn something this night. “Well, she’s a storm, isn’t she? She isn’t capable of moderation. When she’s happy, she’s ecstatic. When she’s angry she’s electric. When she’s afraid she is very, very afraid. And she’s terrified of you.”

Dream looked over his shoulder at the bard, still looming beside the dying phantom.

“I neither wish nor intend her harm.”

“You don’t have to intend harm to hurt her.”

The Endless fully turned to him, and the bard spoke with all the confidence of being truly heard. Just as the king did upon entering this dream. “You, I presume, dug very deep in a very dark place. That hurt her. Frightened her. If you push her far enough she’ll chew off her own leg to get away, or didn’t you see the part where she nearly decapitated herself to escape the damn collar?”

Silence filled the room. An ugly, cheap place to die. Taliesin wondered how long it would take to find her if she really had gone to ground. He couldn’t trust the King of Dreams to care about anything beyond the Dreaming’s borders, and he wouldn’t trust her health with the one who pushed her to ruin in.

He had spells to find her, but he wasn’t sure he could hold her if she went into a panic.

In the stillness, they could hear her death rattle.

“What will your potion do to her?”

His potion. Yes, he supposed it was his fault. The girl really was like a stray cat, hiding under porches to die quietly rather than let someone help. He should’ve known.

“It keeps her awake. Eventually, she’ll feel too ill to eat. She may hallucinate. Her heart will fall out of rhythm and she’ll waste away until her body doesn’t remember how to function.” He smacked his head back into the wall, wanting punishment, hoping to jog some inspired idea free. “I warned her.”

Of all the Endless, and he’d met quite a few, Dream was the most inscrutable. Cold and detached, but prone to dangerous spikes of interest that spiraled into nearly obsessive passion. His vengeance came swiftly and his affection grew slow. But Dream was, usually, just. He didn’t enjoy undeserved suffering, and Taliesin had to hope that after walking through the little storm god’s dreams, he’d understand she’d earned none of her pain.

It wasn’t too late. He’d lost track of time, but a tableau this desperate wouldn’t come to pass for at least a year.

“If you are of a mind to assist, Dream Lord…” He pushed off the wall, suddenly and entirely desperate to move. “I have an idea.”

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

Her fear grew bitter as her strength waned. She could taste it when she struggled to eat, and when she gave up meals, it poisoned the water she drank. Terror tasted like blood from bitten lips and dust on her dry tongue. Her hands shook, and her throat burned from stomach acid, but it wasn’t bad enough to call on Taliesin again. She knew what he’d say.

Whatever happened, she would not fall asleep.

Besides, she wasn’t dying yet. She was only sick. If the Dream Lord pulled through her bloody history again, she wouldn’t survive. If she had a choice, she’d pick a death in the waking world, free of the collar and safe from the Dream Lord who dragged her through horrors so callously.

She wasn’t convinced he believed in her innocence, either. If he knew he’d threatened someone trying to rescue his damn raven, surely he would’ve apologized.

Better to stay awake and ignore the cramps in her belly.

The rain soothed her. Fitful storms plagued the town she’d chosen as a hiding place, and the old folks grumbled to each other at the grocery store about the weather. Maybe they’d gotten used to it in the past few months. She hadn’t been out in a while.

She didn’t sleep, but she still rested. Her eyelids didn’t grow heavy when she sat by the window and watched the drops racing down the pane. She remained awake, aware, and as close to peace as her racing thoughts allowed.

The window became her favorite pastime, and she spent days studying the changing clouds as angry squalls rolled up the coast, how the grey sky trapped the light during gentler showers.

And she grew weaker. Quietly flirting with the line between sick and deathly ill.

She saw impossible things beyond the glass. It took her a few days to realize they were hallucinations, not a fae spell or some petty apocalypse.

When his reflection appeared behind her in the window, she thought she was seeing things again. And then he spoke.

“You are killing yourself.”

She jerked around, stumbling on numb feet to face the monster. The Nightmare King. Her hand wandered her neck, looking for the collar to prove this was a dream, but she found her scarf instead.

“You are in the waking world,” he confirmed. “You hid yourself well.”

He took a step towards her, and she lunged back. The same game in the wrong realm.

“You still think I’m some kind of threat?”

Another step towards her, another step back – she nearly tripped on the leg of a chair, but she refused to look away for an instant, even to save the scraps of her dignity.

“No.”

He moved the way he spoke, aware of every nuance, every shift, slowly drawing closer. Sure and smooth as a stormfront.

What did he want? She abandoned her home, gave up the precious little sleep she could tolerate, and he still pressed her. He didn’t look angry and cold, like he did on the beach. Something sharp glittered in his eyes, though, a keen edge ready to cut her.

They passed through the living room, through the kitchen, and she only had a few more steps before this slow chase met an abrupt end.

“I’m running out of ground to give, Dream Lord.”

“Good.”

A final step, and her heel met the wall. He closed the distance, keeping the same predator’s pace as she pressed herself flat against the peeling wallpaper.

“Do you want me to fight?” Her growing storm raged. Lightning sheered over the sleepy town, turning the evening bright as noon. Thunder rattled the windows, but the Dream Lord didn’t so much as flinch. “Do you want an excuse to hurt me?”

He stood inches away, eating up her personal space until she felt his shadow had already swallowed her.

“No.”

“Then what do you want?” A whisper with the desperation of a scream.

His razor eyes cut deep, and she quaked in place, afraid to move but wishing she could shrink, become so small he wouldn’t notice her.

“To turn you from a darker fate.”

He raised a hand, and she cowered from the expected blow. When none fell, she peeped at him sidelong. His palm hovered between them, like he was holding up a gift.

“Sleep.”

Stooping ever so slightly, he blew over his hand, sending a gust of sand into her face. She bucked against him, flinging one arm up to cover her face, the other to shove at his chest. But it was no good. By the time he curled his fingers back, she could feel her grip on the world slipping away.

“Poor little storm god.”

Her knees buckled, and she slid down the wall, losing herself by inches to the inescapable lure of the Dreaming and its master.

She slept.

Chapter 4 A/N: I've never done prompt requests, but I've never had 500 FOLLOWERS EITHER (holy shit). I'm celebrating, and you're invited. The rules are a little convoluted, I won't be able to do ALL the things, but you'll all get a say in what makes the cut by voting. To join the fun and check out the rules, go here. Even if you don't join in, there will be one-shots aplenty for you to browse.

I'll be working on a chapter each for my other two active fics while I wait for replies, so you may not see another Younger Gods chapter til next week. For those clamoring for more interaction between the reader and Morpheus, it will be well worth the wait.

[its-time-to-write]

ch. 1 - hustling for the good life

please never let me write a series again. if I say i’m going to, please remind me that it’s the worst and i’ll hate myself for it. anyway, here it is and yeah, i got self conscious about it. uhh also Jamie doesn’t show up till chapter 2.

table of contents

cowboy like me

Getting from the car to the hotel lobby should not be this challenging. It’s not even that far a distance, but the moment your car pulls up to the doors, you understand that this is going to take a lot of pushing, shoving, and flashing cameras.

“How’d they even know I was going to be here?” you ask your assistant-turned-best-friend Natalie.

She grimaces. “I was kind of trying to keep this from you, but your new makeup artist has been leaking your location. That’s why it’s been hell the past week or so.”

You groan and say, “Shit, and she was so nice, too! Who would’ve thought?”

Natalie shrugs. “I had my suspicions from the beginning. Gotta tell you, it was hard fucking work catching her in the act without you knowing.”

You smile and pinch Natalie’s arm affectionately. “This is why you’re the best, Nat. You’re always fighting a losing battle against my anxiety.”

She grins back and says, “You ready to brave the paps? Be warned, they’re going to be particularly vicious.”

“Obviously,” you reply. “They’re probably all wondering why I don’t have a ring on my finger.”

Natalie makes an ick noise and says, “I, for one, am glad you don’t. I think I’d have to quit if you married him.”

You laugh as your door opens and your bodyguard begins to usher you inside. You’re glad you’re not marrying him either.

—

Fame is weird because it pretty much means your entire job is based on other people’s perception of you. They never have any idea what’s actually going on, and if the people decide they don’t like you, you’re done. You like to keep your personal life, well, pretty personal. That means social media accounts run by a publicist, a secret apartment, large sunglasses, tinted windows, and a fuck-ton of coffee.

Your last three relationships had all been for publicity and you didn’t mind so much, but it was odd. There was an actor, a guitarist, and (most recently) a model. They were all incredibly sweet, which you understand is a rarity. Fake relationships have the tendency to run sour, but they were just genuinely kind people. 

The last one, the model, had commented on your ability to detach one night. He specifically noted how you could fake a sparkle in your eyes, the kind that you’re only supposed to have when you’re really in love. You had laughed and patted his cheek, and told him that you didn’t want to be in love. It’s easy to fake something you don’t truly desire because there’s no underlying pain in your eyes.

The actor and guitarist had said similar things, the actor in particular telling you that you should consider switching which business you were in. You just grinned and told him some lyrics for a the song you’d release when you two broke up.

Love is a hassle. You don’t need it. You’ll take your nice car over an open heart any day.

—

It’s late but not too late as you and Natalie lay on the giant bed in your room, face masks on and glass of wine in hand.

“I still don’t understand why you won’t even keep ten percent of your new EP,” she says as you absently watch the show on the TV. “You’re making so much off it, that it wouldn’t make a difference.”

You shake your head. “Mango was always going to be for that charity,” you reply. “It doesn’t make sense that I would tell their stories and then profit off it. It’s their album, I was just the execution.”

Natalie raises an eyebrow as she says, “But no one knows what it’s about. Or that you’re the one donating all that money. Honestly, I’m shocked that no one in that entire organization has figured out what’s happening yet.”

“Well, I think Christine probably has an idea,” you laugh. “She always could see right through me. And the girls I talked to promised to keep it to themselves. You know, they each get a percentage too.”

Natalie nods. “I know,” she says. “I understand your vision, I really do. I just need to check in with you every now and then, so I know you understand what you’re doing.”

“I do,” you reply. “I really do.”

—

Mango was a one-off EP you created after becoming financially involved with an organization specializing in helping women escape domestic violence. A little heavy for someone whose songs were best listened to on a sunny day, but you needed something real. You hated the way you felt separate from real people and Christine, your point of contact, had given you a lifeline. Your money now had use, beyond buying loved ones houses and cars and whatever else they could possibly want. You didn’t want to become publicly involved, and the whole company was great with keeping you anonymous. You’d talked to so many women who had stories of love turned rotten, and the hope they’d been able to find. 

You wrote a few songs about some of them, supposed to be a personal gift for those who had touched you.

It was Claire, the one who had told you the story that inspired Mango, who said you should release it.

You’d protested at first but the other girls caught wind of Claire’s vendetta and pushed you into it as well. 

Natalie helped you put your vision to paper, and contracts were written so the money Mango made would go to its true visionaries.

It was satisfying in a way that no other album had been.

It had depth, it was personal, it was upbeat but in a real way, and it had a strange sadness laced throughout each track.

You came across a tweet that said, I don’t know why I’m crying to Kitchen Epiphany, but it’s 3am and I can’t stop sobbing. 

That’s exactly what you wanted. Nothing is explicitly sad in the song, it’s actually one of the most sunny songs on the EP, but still. There was something that people could feel, could connect to.

You think that feeling is better than any type of love.

—

The trip to London is another PR thing. “Blue Glass singer/songwriter spotted in London on the heels of breakup with model ex,” said one newspaper. 

“Mango artist has let her man go,” said another.

“I think they could have done better with that pun,” Natalie remarks. You giggle. 

“I don’t give a shit, as long as they’re buying what I’m selling. It’s just nice to be out of America for a little bit.”

Natalie squints at her phone and says, “You know you’re here for work, right? You have that interview in an hour, plus we have a party tonight. You don’t have to pretend to be sad for this one, apparently you’re supposed to move on quick and act like you’re ‘happy, single, and unburdened.’”

You’re not sure who exactly she’s quoting, but you’re pretty sure she’s reading some message from someone in charge of your image. They don’t do a bad job, but they could do better.

—

The interview is good, done by a sweet girl who asks interesting questions about aesthetics and personal projects, things a little different from your normal interviews. 

You head back to the hotel and figure out what you’re going to wear to this party, some football thing, while Natalie laments her inability to wear slippers.

“I mean, don’t get me wrong,” she says as she rummages through her makeup bag, “I fucking love the way heels look. But my feet are absolutely ruined and I just want to wear something comfortable for once.”

You hold up an ice-blue dress to the mirror. “You should just do it, Nat. It’s not like anyone’s actually going to care. I sure as hell don’t give a shit.”

Natalie’s head shoots up to look at you. “Are you serious? Please tell me you are. If you say I can, I’m totally not wearing real shoes.”

You decide to wear the dress and say, “Natalie Herrera, you can do whatever your heart desires. I literally could not care less.”

She squeals and says, “Oh my god, ok, ok, I’m going to the shops right now and I’m going to buy a cute pair. Oh my god, I’m so excited.”

“If you find a really good pair, get me some too,” you call after her, “I want some to wear around the room.”

table of contents

[contentloadingandstuff]

Hu Tao x Doctor!Reader

CW: Swearing, Male!Reader. I wonder who will catch all 4 references? Tips: One book, one comic book, one animation, one real life case. If someone does, they'll get a gold star from me! :D

I'M SORRY I COULDN'T HELP MYSELF-

What a pairing. The bright and sunny funeral director, Hu Tao, and the cynical but still good doctor Y/N. 

One benefits from ended lives, the other from saving them… This poses a fair amount of questions, doesn't it? 

No wonder, then, that you're not as popular as doctor Baizhu, especially with kids. Though honesty is usually considered a virtue, well… Let's say that it's not the case here. 

Though some call you a quack, Baizhu and Changsheng see the truth. You have good intentions, you have the necessary skill and knowledge, but all the years of not-so-casual field work desensitized you quite a bit. 

Y/N: Let me tie this, and we can begin.  Milelith soldier: Gods it hurts… Just… Just hurry, doctor. Please… I don't know if I can take it…  Y/N: Don't worry, my friend. You will manage, worst case you pass out. A leg is still better than your life, right?  Milelith soldier: I suppose…  Y/N: I learned from the best. My professor in Fontaine could make an amputation in just about 153 seconds, can you believe that? Truly impressive.  Milelith soldier: Oh… I see… How so?  Y/N: Impressive in the sense that it allowed the only case of 300% mortality rate to occur.  Milelith soldier: W-what does that mean?  Y/N: It's a funny story, let me tell you! A bystander died of a heart attack while witnessing the procedure, the patient later died of gangrene, and the saw cut off the fingers of the doctor's assistant, who later died of gangrene as well. That's skill, isn't it? Three for the price of one!  Milelith soldier: ...  Y/N: Well, not that funny. But don't fret, he saved more lives than he ended. Anyway, we'll take our time. Can't have any of you dying, can I?  Soldiers: *nervous laugh* Y/N: Here, bite down on this. And you two - hold him, just in case. 

Due to your skill in general medicine and surgery, especially the emergency variety, Ningguang deemed you to be a most valuable asset to Liyue. Putting up with your unsettling remarks and dark jokes is nothing when compared to all the lives you save regularly, especially among the Milelith and miners. 

Just… Why do you seem to actively try to undermine your fairly good public image? It's Hu Tao's influence, no doubt about that. 

Hu Tao: Buy a coffin, and the second will cost you nothing!  Y/N: But wait! Before you pass, take those pills to help with gas! 

The two of you are probably the most well-known couple in Liyue. Some find your complementary quirkiness adorable, while others keep a safe distance. Your demeanor may be unusual, to say the least, but the statistics speak for themselves - the essentially non-existent mortality rate of your procedures earns you respect amongst those you've helped. 

Some think of your sense of humor as harmful, but you'll hear the opposite if you ask your patients. A joke, even if it's gallows humor, can help immensely.

Hu Tao likes your sense of humor, though she can't help but worry a little. The stories are told in a funny way, but the topics are rarely such. 

Y/N: I have your test results, sir.  Old man: Please make haste, doctor. I don't have all day.  Y/N: Aw shucks, who told you? 

She understands how exhausting your profession is, how mentally challenging it may be. There are people you can't save, no matter how hard you try. There are those that can be, but they disobey your orders. If you make mistakes, you're always the one to blame. They rarely recognise your effort. More - some treat you as a fraud, a killer in disguise. 

Y/N: Have you heard of the surgeon's regularity, Hu?  Hu Tao: Aiya, do tell!  Y/N: If the patient dies, it's your fault. If they live, it's a miracle. 

Hu Tao loves listening to the many stories you've gathered over the years! 

The skill you hold in the field of medicine earned you the respect of many throughout the nations - commoners, aristocrats, generals, and even the Raiden Shogun herself. Due to your priceless service in the Shogunate's army, your Hydro Vision was never taken away, and you, even as an outlander, got the full freedom of movement and social rights in Inazuma. 

With your actions, you showed the Inazumans that a doctor isn't a coward. You attended the battles sometimes, standing alongside the other soldiers. They say it's bravery, but… Truly, the battlefield is the biggest test compound there is! 

Kujou Sara: Doctor! Are you sure this will work?  Y/N, firing up a Hydro beam: Hahaha, I have no idea! 

You finished med school in Fontaine, your homeland. You earned your license and started your career there, but you weren't very popular amongst the public and the officials. The reason? Well… 

Y/N: Ladies and gentlemen, have you wondered how you can serve science? Serve medicine? Serve mankind? Well, do I have an offer for you! In fact, we doctors are not sure how some things inside us humans work, and what we use can, at times, look like black magic, but rest assured - it's just ignorance. How can you assist us in making progress then, you ask? Sign this waver today! With a flick of your wrist you can donate your body to science and be the stepping stone for ground breaking progress! We'll crack you open after you kick the bucket, see what makes you tick, stitch you back up nice and tidy and give you back. Your family will get a compensation of 100 000 Mora. More - sign it now, ladies and gentlemen, and get a free wine voucher! Tell me, isn't that the offer of a lifetime? 

Anyway, that's how you lost your medical license. You were 'unprofessional', they said. 

After that you went to Inazuma, spending a year there before moving on to the land of wisdom. The researchers of Sumeru quickly recognised your experience, and looked into granting you an official license in an alternative procedure. Amurta professors were impressed by your ability to do your job with even the most bare-bones of tools, in harsh conditions, and succeed at treatment at the same time. 

Y/N, cooking up a rudimentary antidote: Don't stress, Y/N. It's just a tiny scorpion sting. Just a little life-and-death scenario. No reason to panic.  Eremite, choking: Doc… tor, that's n-not my name…  Y/N: Yeah, I know. 

While the paperwork was in progress, you visited Natlan for some time. It was the true unofficial test of your skills. Tropical diseases, the immense heat, the endless flood of combat wounds… But you just rolled up your sleeves and got to work, just like in Inazuma. 

Y/N: ... and I tell her: sorry, I can't treat you - I'm a family doctor, and you're an orphan!  Both: *laughter* Y/N: Whew… Anyway, that's why they kicked me out of the Teyvatian Association for Children's Medicine. Gladiator: Some folk can't take a joke huh… Um, doctor? Should I be awake for this?  Y/N: Haha, well… No. But since you already are, can you help me open up your chest cavity? I can't… seem… to…  Gladiator: *scream* Y/N: Oh, don't be such a Treasure Hoarder. Ribs grow back!  Gladiator: I don't think so… You sure, doctor?  Y/N: Yeah, if trimmed. You don't need it to survive. But that'll be another 75k.  Gladiator: Eh, do it doc. My insurance will cover it.  Y/N: I hope so! Else… *cracks knuckles*

The Akademiya offered you the place of the leader of an exchange project with The Fatui of Snezhnaya, due to your extensive experience in the field. You agreed, of course. In the land of Cryo you learned about gunshot wounds, frostbite and radiation poisoning (stemming from equipement factories), adding their treatment to your already long list of capabilities. The competition was possibly the biggest in Teyvat, since Fatui doctors and medics are the best money can buy. 

Electrohammer Vanguard: Job twoju mat’... Fuck… It hurts like a bitch… Y/N: Yeah, yeah, I know. A little quieter, please? A mistake now would be fatal. Electrohammer Vanguard: S-sorry… ugh… That’s my first gunshot, d-doctor… Y/N: Oh, don’t worry. Mine as well :) Electrohammer Vanguard: … Y/N: Now, can I get my hydrogen peroxide back? I hope you left some for the wound…

Mondstadt was pretty dull and boring. There weren’t nearly as many traumatic injuries as in the other nations, and the diseases weren’t even half as lethal as malaria, cholera and typhus you faced in Sumeru and Natlan. That moment of peace allowed you to reflect on your life and experiences, as well as finally enjoy your hard earned fortune. 

Y/N: Take two of those throughout the week. If the symptoms don’t let up, come back and I’ll give you stronger ones. Kaeya: Thank you, doctor. May I ask something? Y/N: Sure. Kaeya: How did you become a doctor in the first place? Was it the salary, or perhaps a moral reason? Y/N: Hm. Duty, I think. I do what needs to be done. I didn’t have much time to reflect on it before. There’s always something to do. But even if I complete what is necessary, I still think back to what I did. Long days of waiting usually follow. It will come out if the treatment works, or if the surgery was a success. And just then, when the tension and joy leave my body - just then I realize what are the odds. 1: 400 000. It’s laughable. But for everyone their life is everything they have, so perhaps trying makes sense. 

And so you ended up in Liyue, the last nation on your list. It wouldn’t be your final destination if not for her. In Hu Tao you found a soulmate, someone who shared your sense of humor, someone who understood you. 

Painfully aware of how limited your time among the living is, you and her make the most out of it. 

Thanks for reading!

[mint-yooxgi]

Broken People - Dragon!Hongjoong X Reader

Dragon AU

Genre: Angst, Fluff

Pairing: Hongjoong X Reader

Words: 2,044

Warnings: Mental Illness: Depression, talks of loneliness, insecurities. Not edited, sorry.

A/n: I was in a really weird headspace this evening, and this is what became of it. I was mainly listening to Screen by Twenty One Pilots when I can up with this idea, and it’s just me writing out a comfort for myself when I get like this. So, I hope it can be a small comfort to others as well. I hope you enjoy.

“Can you come over?” The words sound foreign, even to your own ears as you speak them into your phone.

A moments’ pause as he can sense something is off just from your tone alone.

“Of course,” Hongjoong replies. “Is everything okay?”

“I- uh… yeah,” you let out a long sigh through your nose. “I’ll explain when you get here.”

“Alright,” he blinks. “I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

“Okay.” Even your confirmation doesn’t sound as chipper as you usually are. A fact which makes his worry skyrocket tenfold.

You end the call.

Tossing your phone beside you on the bed, you continue to stare at your ceiling. It’s just one of those nights. A night where your mental state takes a slow, downwards spiral, and no matter what you do, you cannot help but just feel empty inside. Not quite to the point of dissociating, or feeling completely numb, but enough that doing anything feels like a chore. Even the usual things you do to help you get out of your funk aren’t helping, leading you to lay upside down on your bed and stare at the ceiling like you have been for the past hour.

That’s when you decided to call him.

Hongjoong has been one of your closest friends for as long as you can remember. You can still recall the day he told you what he was, your awe filled gaze staring at him in wonder. Dragons aren’t unusual in the society you live in, but unless they’re a public figure or a celebrity, having them reveal themselves to a human can be considered a monumental event.

He trusts you, and you trust him. That’s all there is to it. At least, that’s what he told you.

Which is exactly why when this mood of yours didn’t improve after an hour, even as you did whatever you could to distract yourself, you called him. He’s always been there for you when you need him, and you’ve always been there for him. No questions asked.

He makes it to your place in fifteen.

As soon as he walks into your room to see the state you’re in, his brow furrows even more in worry.

“What’s the matter, Treasure?” There’s nothing but concern in his voice as Hongjoong sits on the edge of your bed.

“I just-“ You sit up, heaving another long sigh as your eyebrows droop. You can’t even meet his gaze. “Not feeling the greatest, is all.”

Reaching a hand out, he lightly rubs his hand over the side of your arm in comfort. “What has you so down? Is something on your mind?”

This is not the first time Hongjoong has helped you through a depressive episode. Nor will it be his last. Not that he’d ever mind. Not when it’s you, and especially not when you’re feeling like this.

“Nothing really,” you admit, fiddling with your own fingers in your lap. “I’m just-“ your voice catches slightly, “I know it’s stupid, but I’m just feeling so lonely, Hongjoong. I just feel empty inside.”

Immediately, he wraps you in his arms, pulling you into his embrace.

“I feel like there’s this hole in my chest, like there’s something missing, and I don’t know what to do to fill it,” you continue. “I know what I selfishly want to fill it, but it’s just unrealistic. Or, well, I know I shouldn’t particularly be thinking like this, but it’s just so hard not to.”

“What is it that you want to fill this void, Treasure?” He asks softly, keeping his tone low so as not to pressure you.

You blink, a sense of what appears to be shame washing over you as you curl in on yourself in his arms. Then, you speak, voice a mere whisper on your lips. “A lover.”

The way his breath hitches is slight, but you can still feel the way he stiffens slightly as he continues to hold you in his embrace.

“I’m sorry,” you’re quick to apologize. “I shouldn’t be dumping this on you. Forget I even said anything, it’s stupid, anyways. Thanks for coming over.”

You go to move out of his hold, but his grip on you only tightens, keeping you in place.

“It’s not stupid if it’s bothering you,” he replies, keeping his gaze locked on the top of your dresser. One item in particular catches his eye. “I’m here to listen if you want to talk.”

You’re quiet for a moment, and Hongjoong almost believes that your stubbornness will refuse to let your speak. However, as soon as he feels you lean further into his embrace, he knows that you’re about to tell him everything that’s currently on your mind.

“I-“ you begin, cutting yourself off as you swallow thickly. “I’ve never had someone to call my own.”

The admission feels like a condemnation as soon as the words escape your lips in a hushed tone.

“I know there’s such an emphasis on being single and happy, or not needing someone else to feel complete, but I just can’t help but want someone. I can’t even say I know what I’m missing, but there are times where I just-“ your voice catches. “There are times where I just want to be held. Where I want someone who is in love with me to cradle me to their chest and tell me that everything will be okay. I want to know what it’s like to be loved and cared for like a lover would.”

“There’s this ache in my chest, Hongjoong, and I can’t help but think that it might just go away if I had somebody to love,” a silent tear begins to trail a path down your cheek, falling onto his shoulder and soaking into the material of his shirt. “It’s selfish, I know. But it’s just so difficult when I see everyone around me in relationships, or saying I don’t need someone when they have a person of their own to call theirs. I’m just tired of being alone.”

Slowly, his hand begins to stroke tenderly along your back, tracing the curve of your spine with every movement. Still, his eyes never leave that one item on top of your dresser.

“And I feel so stupid,” you laugh humourlessly. “Me, spewing my ideals about soulmates to you of all people before I even knew what you were.”

That small, smooth seashell he gifted you two weeks ago almost glares mockingly back at him now.

“I guess I’m just so desperate to be loved that I’ll believe in anything.”

Never before has Hongjoong heard you sound so broken.

“I just want somebody, Hongjoong,” you sniff. “I’m tired of being alone.”

A moment of silence passes over the both of you as Hongjoong lets your words sink in.

“You’re not alone, Treasure.” He voices gently, hand still tracing along your spine softly. “You will always have me.”

“I don’t mean to sound like I’m invalidating your friendship-“

“No, that’s not what I meant.” He shakes his head, chuckling lightly. “Tell me, My Jewel, does that hollowness in your chest still pain you so greatly while I’m around?”

“Hongjoong, I don’t understand.”

“Please,” he pulls away the slightest bit to stare deeply into your eyes. There’s a hint of nervousness to his tone now, one which you do not understand. “Answer the question, My Jewel.”

You blink, feeling the way your heartbeat accelerates the longer he continues staring at you like he is. “No. It doesn’t.”

“There is a reason for that.” He smiles faintly.

“I still don’t follow.” You shake your head.

“I know how you think, Treasure, and I know that ever since I confirmed that soulmates were real in a sense, you didn’t want to get your hopes up.” Hongjoong says, a sort of sadness taking over his features. “You always seem to want to believe in these things, but you never believe they can actually be for you.”

“How would you know?” Your reply is nothing short of defensive, crossing your arms over your chest.

“You think I cannot tell when my own mate is in destress?” He sends you a knowing look, brow quirked and all.

Your reaction is immediate: eyes widening as your mouth parts in utter shock. “Excuse me?”

“This is not the way I planned on telling you,” he leans back slightly on your bed, hands supporting him behind his back. Tilting his head up, he stares at your ceiling. “I wanted a chance to properly court you first before I dumped that little tidbit of information on you. I didn’t want to you to feel like I was forcing you into anything, given your ideals on the topic, and the connotations it can have. Besides, I didn’t want you to think our friendship was because of this fact. No, this bond appeared because of our friendship.”

Despite it all, one piece of information sticks out more than the others in your mind. “Court me?”

Again, his gaze falls upon that shell resting atop of your dresser.

“I have already started, you know,” he chuckles.

“You have?” The surprise is clear in your voice as you blink at him in shock.

“I don’t usually give pieces of my collection to just anyone.” He hums, motioning lightly with his head towards your dresser.

That’s when your own gaze finally falls upon the shell resting there. Not just any old seashell. His absolute favourite shell of all time. A piece of his vast collection, of which he gifted to you.

“Oh,” a faint heat begins to rise to your cheeks as the meaning behind such a gift washes over you fully. “I didn’t realize.”

At the time, you thought nothing of it. He’s gifted other small shells to his closest friends before, so you just believed it to be him doing the same for you. Then again, given the importance of the shell he gave you, you should have realized sooner.

“I can tell,” he chuckles lowly once more. “I don’t expect anything to come by this right now, and I’m not telling you this to try and take advantage of you in such a vulnerable state.”

“I know you, Hongjoong, and I know you would never do such a thing.” You smile faintly, assuring him in your own way for the moment. “Least of all to me.”

“Good.” He returns your smile softly, a subtle nod to his head. “I just want you to know, that you are not alone. Even if things were different, and I did not have such strong emotions towards you in such a sense, I would still be here for you. I understand that hollowness you feel, for I felt that every day until I felt that bond between us settle into place. I am here for you, in whatever ways I can be, and although I may not be who you have in mind, I can and will be the one to hold you, and fill that void in your heart as much as I can.”

Cautiously, Hongjoong raises his hands to your face. His touch is nothing but tender as he cups your cheeks in his palms, thumbs gently brushing over your skin as he stares deeply into your eyes, wiping away your lingering tears.

“I will do whatever you ask of me, Treasure,” he voices lowly, the sincerity bleeding into every word, “for I am already so deeply in love with you, that I never want you to feel this way again.”

Your breath hitches, whole body stilling beneath his touch.

“I understand you might not feel the same for me, and we can discuss how we move forward together later, but please,” his fingers press a little firmer against the sides of your face, cradling you gently, “tell me what to do, and I will do it. No questions asked.”

“Hongjoong,” the way you breathe his name has his heart racing uncontrollably in his chest. “Will you stay with me? Just stay with me, and hold me in your arms for tonight. That’s all I ask.”

His expression softens, nothing but fondness and care shining within his gaze as he smiles softly, nodding once. “I can do that.”

[lovlychan]

seventeen: your friends with benefits

pairing: 95 line x gn! reader genre: romance, fluff warning(s): suggestive language, swearing request: Hey omg I love your blog sm already and I can’t wait to see what u make in the future :) I was wondering if u could do a svt reaction/head cannon to y’all being fwb but they catch feelings? 👀 if not I totally understand/gen 💙 note: omg hi!! thank you for the support, i really appreciate it! here’s 95 line; i originally was meant to write for the entire hyung line but these got a bit long for my taste lol :^)) feel free to request for the others <3 ALSO i’m finally back from dying over finals, please expect more work within the next few weeks :DD my requests are open as always!

seungcheol

two friends that just needed a way to blow off some steam

while this setup of yours with seungcheol was exciting and fun, the two of you agreed to keep it a secret

you both valued privacy, and neither of you wanted people to know about your business

that meant you guys would always be lowkey when in public; leaving the bathroom at separate times, wandering hands from under the table

while you seemed perfectly fine with keeping things hidden, it was suffocating seungcheol

even before your current arrangement with him, he always thought there was something special about you, something that drew him closer and made him want more

and getting to see you, all of you, made it harder for him to remember that there shouldn’t be any feelings involved

one night, he calls you, asking you to come over

when you get to his apartment, you can tell the mood is completely different from the past situations when you’d visit

it’s evident on his face that he called you over for something way more serious than just hooking up, and you begin to grow worried

“cheol are you oka–” “we need to stop this."

“i can’t keep doing this anymore. being able to touch you but never actually have you, it’s fucking with my head. knowing that behind closed doors, i have you all to myself but the moment we’re outside you’re no longer mine, it hurts. i’m in love with you, y/n.”

jeonghan

100% obsessed with you behind closed doors but acts like you’re strangers out in public

but recently, it feels like you guys are strangers on all levels

every time you’d hit him up, you’d get the same response

“busy 2nite, sorry”, “my roommate’s home”, “i have hw”

at first, you didn’t mind his excuses

it’s college, of course he’s busy

but after two whole weeks of blowing you off, your patience was wearing thin

it wasn’t like him to just cut things off without an explanation

he never even messages anymore, so at this point, you guys aren’t even talking

you haven’t seen him in so long, so the moment you run into him outside the library, you corner him to ask why he’s been avoiding you

he’s awkwardly fidgeting, avoiding eye contact, but you won’t leave until he explains himself

he knows you won’t give up, and he tells you with frustration evident in his tone

“i have feelings for you, okay? i knew that if we continued what we were doing i’d only fall deeper. i thought the only way for me to get over you would be to cut you off, but i realized it just made me miss you even more. is that what you wanted to hear?”

joshua

childhood friends that both wanted to lose their virginities, but the sexual chemistry was good so you guys just kept going

everyone knew you guys were close, so no one really questioned why you’d spend the night at each others’ places so frequently

after another night of your usual activities, you guys have pizza delivered to joshua’s apartment

when the food arrives, you answer the door, clad in one of shua’s old shirts 

the delivery guy thinks you’re cute, and he even asks for your number

you’re about to give it when joshua takes the pizza box from the guy’s hands and slams the door shut

he looks annoyed, but you’re annoyed too

“what was that for? i was about to give him my number”

you’re just waiting for his reply, and he looks at you with an unreadable emotion in his eyes

desperation, maybe?

“please don’t go out with someone else. i’m in love with you. i think i have been ever since the start. i want us to be more than what we are right now, if you let me. i’ve already gotten a taste of how it feels to be with you, and now i can’t imagine ever letting you go.”

[withacapitalp]

Hidden Gem Friday

Hi guys!!! Okay so today is the first Hidden Gem Friday!!! I'm super pumped to be able to do this, I think it's gonna be so much fun. I have like 30 prompts already, so I'm going to try and do a little bit of a variety in these? Anyways!! I'm super psyched about this and I hope you guys leave comments for these writers when you read their stuff!!! Also let the writer know how you found them bc I always wonder when I get a random uptick in hits/comments/kudos! Anyways here's the actual rec list

Shoot by alligator_writes recced by me written by @riality-check! 1.2k words (Complete)- Jancy

Summary:

Jonathan shoots to capture. Nancy shoots to kill.  OR A character study of the two of them and their relationship.

My Thoughts:

WOW Honestly that's my thought with everything Ria writes, but this one is so overlooked!!! It's so short but every word packs an incredibly punch and it's the epitome of quality over quantity. The characterization is perfect, the parallels are so well written. Ah I just love this one

always surprised by what i do for love by birthdaycandles recced by @andrea-csenge 6.3k words (Complete)- Gen

Summary:

“He’s dressed like Steve.” Dustin says plainly, monotone in that way he gets when he’s genuinely upset and not just worked up for show. “Why?” Mike is asking because he still hasn’t processed the ugly fact of the matter, reasonably so considering how bizarre it is to witness someone be so braindead in public, but Lucas would like an answer that addresses the other type of why. Like, why is Conner Marrigan such a fucking asshole? “Clearly, uh, Marrigan wanted to have a costume no one else would think of.” Eddie chimes in. For once he sounds almost nervous, though Lucas has no idea why. “I figured I’d let you know, considering your allegiance to Harrington and also the general fact that it’s a pretty fucked up thing to do.”

My thoughts:

I love this one so much!!!! It's really well written first of all, and secondly the characterization of Lucas here is so unique!! This is my kind of Lucas, and the thought behind the premise is really interesting. Plus the Jason here is accurate to real Jason and I like that a lot (So many people just make irredeemable monster Jason when like before he went cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs he was just your regular small town jock asshole)

It has been a beautiful fight. (it still is.) by througheden aka the amazing @thefreakandthehair !!!!! Recced by Lex technically, but also by me bc wowwww 3.3k words (Complete) - Steddie

Summary:

Steve wasn’t sure how the fuck he ended up at The Hideout on a Tuesday night.  Okay, that wasn’t true— Eddie invited him, he was loath to admit that he was still harboring an unexpected and ill-fated crush, and he’d agreed to go before his brain could catch up with his mouth. That's how he ended up at The Hideout on a Tuesday night.

My thoughts

Augh I just love the way you write. Something about it is so flowy, like a river or a silk dress. Anyways this is such a sweet little one shot, I always get so eeeeeee over a first kiss, and this was perfect!!!! I have a v similar idea for a story ending that is taking place soon, so great minds lolol but yes amazing show stopping wonderful etc. etc.

Words caught in my throat (who talks first?) by fragilecapric0rn recced by @flashyysins 12.2k (Complete)- Steddie

Summary:

Steve and Eddie get snowed in together. Emotional constipation and all the things left unsaid are also in attendance.

My Thoughts:

Okay so I said to myself I would put at least one WIP on this, but then I just read this one and Was going to skim it, but I literally couldn't put it down. It's so fucking good and I got choked up more than once I loved all the characterizations they felt so in synch. There are some spicy bits in this so fair warning, but there's also dad hopper and Wayne and stobin soulmate moments and just AUGH this is amazing it really honestly Is everyone should go read this and the fact that it only has 886 hits is a fucking travesty. I could easily see this as one of the seminal steddie fics tbh.

[epithet-beloved]

ill try to keep my ramsey-related requests limited cause i dont wanna lose control but what are your dating headcanons for him 🤔

DATING RAMSEY MURDOCH

synopsis…  headcanons about dating Ramsey Murdoch !

ft. Ramsey Murdoch 

tags… relationship study, fluff

word count… 839

a/n… never feel bad for sending requests that’s what we’re for !!! It always makes us happy and we love writing these !! Also I promise you will catch me writing other characters in the future (I have a silly Slim post locked and loaded in the queue) for now I’m just snatching all the Ramsey posts and I feel confident about this one in particular because I am a Ramsey kisser myself so boy do I have headcanons ✧ 🦇

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 Starting off strong Ramsey is really into physical affection. Hand holding, hugging, kissing; you name it. He’s up for all of it.

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 So part of dating him is genuinely just having him hover around you constantly with at least an arm wrapped around your shoulders, whether you’re in public or in private (he has no problem with PDA; but if you do, he’ll stop. Your comfort comes first!)

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 He’s a really attentive lover, he’ll memorize small things you mention about yourself or stuff you like

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 If you mention you want something, he will probably definitely get it for you as a gift, no matter how cheap or expensive it is. He’s big on gift giving too.

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 Genuinely? He does not understand how you find him attractive, people usually recoil or make a face when they see him.

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 And yet you look at him with those big eyes full of admiration and wonder… Oh he could just melt right then and there. No one has ever really looked at him like that.

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 Call him handsome? Gorgeous? Beautiful? Anything? He’s gone. There’s steam cartoonishly coming out of his ears. He is unresponsive and his face is redder than his hair.

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 It’s kind of part of the fact that draws him to you: you’re not disgusted by his appearance at first glance, nor do you seem to find it hard to look at him; he knows he’s not the most attractive person and to think you do find him attractive?? The most beautiful person he’s ever seen??? He’s a WRECK

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 It is so obvious when this guy has a crush on someone

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 He hands you flowers he morphed into gold. He just always kind of stands around you when you’re in the same room. He definitely tries to flirt just to fluster you or hear you laugh.

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 Even if he fails catastrophically at flirting with you and falls over while trying to lean on a wall, he still claims it as a success if he hears you laugh (before he melts into a puddle when you’re all worried asking if he’s okay)

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 All in all Ramsey is very open with his emotions. You can easily tell when he dislikes or likes someone, he feels like it's not worth hiding it.

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 But when you start flirting back and showing genuine interest in him? He’s terrified you’re making fun of him. Because why would someone as gorgeous as you want someone like him???

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 Please hold his face and comfort him. He has small tears in his eyes if you do but he promises they’re happy tears

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 He understands that perhaps what someone has inside is more important than the outside, but he has to admit the judgment of the outside still hurts a little bit

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 He has so much to offer in terms of personality and affection and you definitely get to see all of it.

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 Think of a love language and this guy probably has some of it in him.

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 Physical touch? Absolutely. Big cuddler. Holds you like a teddy bear if you sleep in the same bed (he snores really loud though so good luck with that)

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 He’s also warm so bonus points in winter you have your personal heater

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 Gift giving? As mentioned above, mention literally anything you like and he’s getting it for you. He might have scammed someone to get it if it’s expensive. He does not tell you.

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 And he hopes you don’t figure it out because he does not want to get yelled at. He just wanted to get you something nice :(

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 Acts of service? He’s not a morning person but would absolutely get out of bed earlier than you in the morning to make you both breakfast. 

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 He’s not a very good cook but he tried his best!

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 Quality time?? SIGN HIM UP

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 He loves date nights. He gets so excited to do anything with you. But honestly? His favorite way to spend time with you is at home with some takeout and maybe watching a good movie together (and maybe you also cuddle)

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 He also likes cooking with you but again. Not a really good cook. You’ll have to do most of the work. Sorry

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 By the way the flirting he does with you pre-dating does not change in the slightest after you’re an official thing. 

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 He’s just more confident now and has no problem sounding all cheesy. He looooves making you flustered

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 He’s the type of guy to point at the scar on his eye and ask you to kiss it better

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 (He just wants an excuse to kiss you)

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 My favorite headcanon is that he would definitely turn something of yours into gold so you just always kind of have a memento of him with you, he thinks it’s nice. 

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 He’s a good partner but certainly not perfect (who is, honestly) so there might be some bumps in the road here and there

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 But no matter what he absolutely adores you and wouldn’t trade what you two have for anything in the world

[eriexplosion]

Since I'm rapidly running out of time to catch up we're doing EVEN MORE TBB TODAY, so off to The Clone Conspiracy

GOD CORUSCANT LOOKS. AMAZING ACTUALLY. SEEING 79S AGAIN ALL GLOSSED UP, GODDAMN. Love when the future is Neon.

Slip and Cade ;A; I'm already preemptively sad knowing what's going to happen to them. Cade talking about destroying Kamino, their home... I'm of course thinking back to the trooper that reported that Kamino had fallen to Rampart, voice hesitant as he reports the destruction of his own birth place. Slip says later he was on board when it happened. I wonder if that was him.

God though, sending a message to Rampart to give him "the chance to tell the Senate the truth before I did it myself." Cade, Cade, Cade, that is an insanely stupid move WHY did you do that and not just tell the senate directly? I know it's the urge to follow orders and chain of command but oh god of course Rampart has him killed.

Listen the first time I watched this I was SO scared for a hot second that it was Crosshair taking those shots, the last time we saw him he had killed Tawni Ames and the rapid shooting Cade and then shooting the blaster out of Slip's hand got me CONCERNED. Only when he started missing constantly did I go 'okay yeah this can't be him'

Still they really do let you think that, with how little we see Crosshair this season, it wasn't out of line to think he was there with new armor.

Can't believe "Cataclysmic Storm" is what they went with. Yeah it was such a big storm on the planet known for storms that it destroyed every single city on the planet simultaneously, very tragic.

"Shifting to a military of citizens swearing loyalty fundamentally goes against the principles of this body." I'm sorry I can't get over the fact that like, I get why the troopers don't want to retire (this is all they've ever known, they don't know how else to function, they have no other support) and the bill is objectively meant to push them out of service to essentially be abandoned but this is still an insane argument. We can't shift away from our slave army to a military of volunteers it goes against the Principles of This Body. WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?

Riyo coming in with the actual 'hey what if we take the secret third option of treating them like people?'

I hate Rampart being so blandly pleasant, playing like he's soooo reasonable and understanding when we know he doesn't give a SHIT about the clones.

"If anyone were to dig further into what truly happened to Kamino" which I am happily discussing in a public hallway.

The scene in the bar HURTS because like, Riyo is trying but she's still locked into not treating the clones like people who should have options. She's trying to soften the being forced out plan, but they're still being forced out and thrown into a situation they were never trained for (because they were never supposed to be people) and they're pushing back against it because it takes away their choices in their own futures. There's just no option on the table that lets clones make their own individual choice whether to stay in the military or retire, and they always expected to be dead before they were too old to fight.

I want every clone to be given all the love and support in the world, all of them no exceptions.

Still the little nod at the end when they agree to work with her, my heart <3 Riyo really is trying her best she's just limited by both the Empire and the plot restrictions of how much they're allowed to criticize the Republics use of the clones in the first place and not just the Imperial treatment of them.

Riyo has been given the worlds worst and most alarming info dump and everything is happening at once, congrats your assassination risk just went up like 500%

God Slip calling Rex to try and get him out ;_; god this poor boy

Oh no not full pensions for millions of clones, god forbid we take care of the millions of clones that we literally purchased as cannon fodder.

"If I had been present, maybe more could have been saved" yeah bro your presence totally would have stopped the storm in this story you're building that makes total sense.

Bail pointing out the blatant insanity of blaming it on, of all things, a STORM.

I'm sorry I get stuck on that how was that the lie they went with how is Rampart SO stupid?

Godddd the tension of this scene with Riyo and Slip is so good, the building musical tension, the way it peaks a few times and nothing happens to keep you extremely on your toes and then Slip gets taken out just. DAMN they're good at this.

The way Riyo's guard gets shot and he KEEPS GOING.

I just realized that last time we saw Rex he disappeared into the fog, and when he comes back in he appears out of the fog. Turns out that whole time he was just in the fog.

HATE THE SCENE WITH THE BELIEVER CLONE. EVERY PART OF IT IS CONCERNING AS HELL. Including the part where he electrocutes himself to death and we get to see flashes of his fucking SKULL.

[if-confessions]

I've been in the IF fandom for almost two years now, and I don't think I've ever found a fandom I've liked as much. I like the community here, the stories, creativity, how diverse the games are compared to other media I see.

I like reading IF, but more than that I'd really to create an IF game myself. I've been creating stories since childhood and I've always wanted to tell them to other people. However, I was never able to find a suitable medium for doing so. Creating video games is a passion that met reality and died too fast, writing traditional books makes me incredibly anxious, and comic and visual novels require way too much drawing when I'm a concept artist at best. And IF... IF seems to be exactly what I was always searching for. But here's a twist.

I'm not a writer. I'm really not. The amount of writing that I've done that wasn't for my studies is... not a lot. Which makes me extremely self-conscious of my writing, and I'm a very anxious person to start with (and English not being my native language doesn't help). I just don't know where to start, I've never even written fanfiction. And then if I end up actually writing something and posting it for people to see, I'm afraid of what they'll say, of me not being good enough, or of people being uninterested in anything I create. It's dreadful really. And I know that this feeling is possibly shared by so many other people, but I just don't know what to do about it.

I had wanted to post this earlier, but Tumblr ate my essay again...

Welcome, Anon, to the wonders of IF! Have a seat, and a cookie, and enjoy the ride! It's quite the experience, you'll see...

Totes understand your worries. With so many good projects out there, it's easy to not feel... adequate (in writing or proficiency); and with many in the community having opinions, to be unsure whether to publish said work.

But here's the thing: many of us in the IF community (especially as hobbyist) have not studied writing (for a while or at all)* or are writers either, and quite a few of us are ESL (hi, hello!)**. So you are in very good company!! *sidenote: some of us consider ourselves game dev/creators before writers too. **Dear... you wrote an essay of an ask with no mistake (that I could find) - I would not have guessed you were not a native speaker, if you hadn't said it before.

To relieve those anxious feelings, here are some advice, from one ball of anxiety to another one:

You don't have to publish anything you don't want to have public. If you prefer to write for yourself and yourself only, it's more than fine. Having fun is what matters.

There are ways to "hide" your project from searches (on itch or tumblr) to have a bit more privacy, as well as disabling replies/comments/ratings...

Setting boundaries from the beginning with people interacting with your projects (whether it is in asks, or doing beta/feedback rounds/etc...) can also be quite helpful (even if some people don't follow them...).

Join writing groups and share snippets/ask for feedback. It's helpful to get some boosts of confidence and get pointers on how to improve.

Have beta/playtest rounds for longer feedback needs (like when you are ready to upload/update a demo, to catch bugs or typos and stuff).

Joining game jams with small projects can help with testing ideas/stories/gameplay, and get comments/feedback from people.

Anyway, we all start somewhere, and very often (most always) that somewhere is not good at all. But that's ok :) There's always room and time for improvement and change (until you're finally happy with it). The beauty of online games is that you can always tweak it and fix it when something doesn't feel right. Nothing is ever set in stone!

Good luck :)

[harmcityherald]

I have always hated telling people I see auras. The pandemonium that always follows that statement is always predictable and always tremendously annoying. No matter what, there's always that person who says "do me next." So it's never been something that I am comfortable talking about and especially not in large groups of people. I'm very used to not being believed and being labeled a lunatic or worse. The problem is I can not navigate around it and properly tell my story, from my point of view, without fabrication. To omit that from my story, like bisexuality for example, would be a lie. Not worth spending the time and literal anguish writing it. This is my first time. Be gentle. My first book can not be built on a fabricated foundation. Do auras exist? I say hell yes. Many say its not. But the universe is built on photonic energy particles and waves. Maybe I am a freak and skitzo as they say, but maybe freak skitzo is near the veil that separates the planes or dimensions or whatever the fuck they are. The big question of science is simple. So simple in fact as to be laughable. What is it? Simple. We look at existence and ask ... What is it? 200,000 years of wondering. Thousands of scrolls, manuscripts, books, data streams and we are still nowhere near an answer to anything beyond simple mechanics and physics for reactions at the lowest levels. The big questions remain out of our reach. The big questions that can be channeled together to one question. Again, what is it? So while I can accept that maybe I am screwed marbles, out of my grey cells completely and in desperate need of realignment, I can also comfort myself in knowing that just maybe I bumped my head in the womb in just the right way or maybe we have a gift curse in our genetic makeup. Running in my family because yes, my grandmother, my mother, both gifted with gift curse abilities. Maybe its defended from so far back we didn't even have legs yet, who can say? Maybe combined with DNA from my father, gifting me with a genetic lean towards femininity, it heightened this particular gift curse in me. Female energy is so much more focused. As if it depends its very nature from female form and ideation. Every fetus in the womb starts as female. It is the hormone bath that follows that delineates which will be favored. I feel I was lucky enough to receive some secret female energy. Thanks to Jessica, rest her soul. I believe males are the afterthought of nature. We are but pawns in a female game lol. Men catch fire when I say this. Its entertaining. Anyway. Long winded word salad to say its ok to think I'm nuts. I'm completely ok with you saying that because I may well be. On the other hand, my shared experiences with my mom I will never deny. I can not afford to lie to myself this late in the game. She had something and I saw the proof, I got something and our proofs formed that bond of common knowledge. Does it mean we understand it any better for you? Hell no, we don't understand none of this shit. There's a scene in the movie Constantine that makes me cry every time. You'd think it was something big like shia's death? Him quiting smoking? Her sister going to heaven? No, it was none of that. Its the scene when he's a little boy on the bus. (Why busses are factoring tonite is concerning lol.) He sees the scary skeleton woman. No one but him can see. It traumas me every time. Because I can relate to it. sixth sense too. I was lucky to have my mom. Without her help and guidance I hate to think what I would have become.

So, as doctors plot to commit me, I, in my utmost wisdom decide to espouse upon my occult involvement from early childhood and my hallucinatory psychic visions that I fought very hard to beat back and control. I like to walk the tightrope of public humiliation. Its invigorating and refreshing. My childhood happened as I remember it, and in my mind, there is no other version. Adam ant tells us ridicule is nothing to be scared of. On one hand it is a very personal and quiet thing, held firmly behind the back to not invite scrutiny. I could a Christian man, holding crossed fingers behind his back. Tell me, what makes his magic voodoo any better than mine?

[microsuedemouse]

to express myself a little better than I did in those tags last night:

I’m really happy for Shayne and Courtney. It would be hard not to look at those photos and be happy for them, because they’re clearly really happy! Their on-camera/in-public dynamic has been super fun to watch for a long time, because they obviously had a really fun, goofy, loving friendship. Regardless of when their relationship became romantic, that’s such a good foundation to have with your partner.

I’ve only really been a fan of Smosh for a few months; certainly less than a year. And even then I’d call myself a casual fan - I actively follow one Smosh Pit series, and sometimes watch other videos at random or when they catch my eye. I do remember, a few years back, watching Smosh clips that crossed my FB feed (don’t judge me - FB just happens to have the short-form video setup/UI that is best at hypnotising me) and noticing their chemistry. I did, in fact, even look up once whether they were involved, because that would fit their dynamic. But when I got my answer, I let it go and appreciated their friendship for what it was. I have a firm policy of Not Shipping Real People, because I find it weird and honestly invasive, even when meant well. Plus, I know that a really close friendship can be mistaken for romantic - my own best friend and I have been asked if we were a couple, and I can completely see why people might wonder that, though we’ve never had any romantic feelings for one another.

So like… I’m delighted in the sense that it’s really charming to see two people in love who’ve clearly always really adored each other, as coworkers and performers and friends. And obviously, yeah, they look gorgeous together.

From what I’ve seen, there do seem to be a handful of fans being a bit weird about it. Shayne and Courtney will share what they’re comfortable sharing, when they’re comfortable sharing it. Grilling other members of Smosh, or - worse - their outside friends and family, isn’t cool. Demanding details from Shayne and Courtney themselves isn’t fair. Also, honestly, all the “I knew it” and “look at this old clip, it was proof all along” is ridiculous. With fictional characters, most details are intentional, but these are real people and the things you’re pointing out could all be explained other ways!

However, I think a lot of people have also been lovely. There’s a lot of congratulations and support going around. And I do get a kick out of the clips people are sharing to point out how funny certain bits or interactions are with this new development/context. A lot of what I’ve seen seems to be harmless excitement. I’m excited too! It’s the beautiful kind of story that most people can’t help being a bit charmed with. I think it’s lovely that they chose to share such a big part of their lives with the fans after so many years of having their relationship scrutinized, and I’m glad to see how much love they’ve received in return.

[aro-aizawa]

genuinely wish that people truly understood the severity of memory issues, especially when the person is neurodivergent because oh boy is it so scary and annoying and frustrating. i want to grab everyone i meet by the shoulders and specifically emphasize just how bad my memory is effected by two different issues (depression & adhd)

like i'll have had a passing thought about something, and like ten minutes later i'm like "did i do that or did i just want to do that?" like i have a ton of unconscious actions that i have to hold back a lot for example.

a very specific example is that when i read fanfiction if a character is expressing an intense emotion i'll usually replicate it myself. like if a character feel visceral disgust my body kind of replicates it as much as it can so my body will tense and shudder and i'll screw up my face. obviously this makes reading in public a risky move. because with my adhd if i want to process a story i have to focus on it 100%, and so i'll lose track of my surroundings and/or things i need to keep in mind so it's a struggle to remember i need to not do that in public.

but that's not even the peak of my issues w my memory issues because i'll have an added layer of whether i emulated what a character did if they yelled or made a loud noise because i suddenly have a weird feeling in my throat as if i did. but i have no memory of actually doing it, or whether i thought about doing it. who knows maybe my body is just doing the emulating thing and making it feel like i'd feel after yelling?? who knows!! definitely not me!!!!

and its so scary to have those moments of "i can't remember if i did that". it's like walking up a high staircase and missing a step, hitting the stairs if you didn't catch yourself in time. it's all the unconscious things that you do without thinking and having a complete blank on whether you did it or not.

it's having conversations with people when your brain is too tired and at the end of it you either have forgotten everything you talked about with them, or you have a memory that's so questionable you wonder if you made it up or not. thus having to repeat the whole conversation again. and because this isn't just a rare occasion that it happens either, you will irritate people with it. no matter how many times it happens, and no matter how much the other person tries to understand it will be irritating a lot of the time.

i feel like i have to wear a body cam 24/7 so that i can have a record of my life that doesn't rely on my memory that has enough holes in it you can use it to drain pasta. i want to have full recollection of my actions without having to backtrack like an hour to make sure that i actually did something or if i imagined myself doing it. i want everyone to understand that while my memory issues are inconvenient or annoying to you, they are terrifying and infuriating to me.

no i don't use "i forgot" as an excuse. i try to do everything i can to not use that phrase except for when i actually forget something but no one fucking notices because my memory is so shit that i say it so much. and people brush it off because that's the generic "i don't want to explain why i didn't do x so i'll just give a halfhearted excuse".

and the thing that bothers me the most is that it's never going to go away. sure maybe i'll find ways to deal with it as i get older and i work with trained professionals, but i'll never be able to manage it perfectly so it's not even there. i'll always have to deal with this terrifying aspect and i'll always have to deal with people brushing off my terror as me "being lazy and making excuses".

[ciaossu-imagines]

hey, it's nix! thanks for this wonderful event! for day 20, can you do number 30 from prompt 11? ⋆｡ʚ🍓ɞ˚

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also, while i’m at it, i just wanna chat for a bit. i did mention to you before about being shy when it comes to public performances, but yesterday, i was assigned to work at a psychiatric institution for our related learning experience as a student nurse, and a patient & i bonded over our love for “don’t look back in anger” by oasis. she had asked me to play it on the piano in the main hall, and we ended up singing together. surprisingly, everyone, even other patients, joined in listening. i’m not sure how i feel about my clinical instructor and classmates discovering my musical ability 😂 (because i initially wanted keep a low profile and stay out of the spotlight), but playing for that patient helped me get more comfortable performing. now, every time i listen to that song, i think of her. it’s a small step, but i’m hoping to improve even more. i just know that sho-chan would be proud! haha

Hey Nix! It’s so nice to hear from you (especially since I needed to reach out to you anyway about an ask you sent in, just to clarify I don’t keep anyone’s match-up send in after it’s done, so I would really appreciate you resending that in, please and thank you!!) But onto the ask! I’m so, so glad that you and the others seemed to enjoy the event this time! The response I got for asks was amazing and it makes me really happy! Also, I loved hearing about your experience at the learning experience! You are right, Sho-chan would be so very, very proud of you! Heck, I (and I am sure the other readers) are very proud of you too! That’s an amazing thing you did, both overcoming a slight fear of public performances and making that patient’s day, as I am sure you did. Just as you think about her now listening to the song, I’m sure she’s always going to remember you when she hears the song now. As someone else who doesn’t really like to draw attention to themselves, I personally find what you did very inspiring 😊 Anyway, I’ll move onto answering the question you asked and again, thank you for sending in a question and for sharing such a lovely experience with me and the other readers!

What is your favourite thing to do?

As with everything else, I really do struggle to pick favourites. It’s hard to say ‘this one thing is better than anything else’ for me, because there’s so many things that bring me joy. Some of the things that really make me happy doing them are:

Of course, writing ranks pretty high up on this list. It’s therapeutic and fun to get out of my life for a bit and fall into characters and other worlds and on top of that, because of the nature of this particular blog, there’s a really pleasant social aspect to it that helps me feel like I’ve found my people, even if just online.

The library is my safe place and I visit it at least once a week. I love just browsing the stacks, taking the time to pick my ten books for the month, as well as talking and catching up with the librarian’s and their lives, plus any cool events the library is hosting in the upcoming weeks. On top of that, my library is really cool in that they do up mystery bags they sell where you get several used books in a particular genre, and I treat myself to one of those and some discounted coffee from a local coffee company when I go! I also love reading manga and books I already own. Again, falling into another world for a little bit – it’s the most wonderful escape.

 I love crafting. I do diamond art and I sew, embroider, and cross-stitch. I recently got news that a friend is pregnant, so I’m working on a cross-stitched baby blanket top that I’ll quilt up for the couple and I enjoy zoning out and doing it.

I’m a house (architecture and interior design) nerd, I admit it. I love looking at the online listings and I have a couple of dorky friends who get together with me and we go to open houses within an hour or two of us. It’s fun to scope out houses and we have fun discussing how we’d change, fix up, and decorate the places after we act like nosey Nellies.

I also love getting outside. I’m a pretty big hiker and throwing on some music or a podcast and even just getting out for a couple hours on the nature trails is lovely.

[amariemelody]

I dunno know if I'm asking for advice or just need to let this out or...I dunno...

So I installed the Meetup app on my phone and, lo and behold, one of the social groups is for...out-of-closet LGBT people.

I saw it while scrolling last month and, though I'm still very much in recovery from the flu (my doctor gave me a 2-week sample of a Trelegy inhaler), I still look and see quite a few events/outings that look like a ton of nice, casual fun once I'm well.

From their posted past events, it also looks like alcohol & smoking aren't at the center-a major plus for my non-alcoholic, asthmatic ass.

The group is already made up of 30+ people, and looks full to the brim of other black women and non-Black POC from the pictures. It openly says "allies & inclusion" are important, so perhaps that's also a code for LGBT folk like me who are still quite-closeted in real life and would approach without revealing our identity.

A part of me...really, truly, desperately want to go to an event. I'd love to start going regularly.

Another part of me...still wants and needs safety.

As I continue to be closeted in real life, so I continue to stay safe-or at least feel safe-but that also means that as far as being bisexual, I am very, very isolated from other LGBT people in real life.

I hit 32-years-old two months ago and it's something...I've been grappling with more and more lately.

And I'm not sure of the answer.

My online dating on HER still isn't...as fruitful as I hoped. It's turning into O*Cupid for me: lots of wonderful, lovely, attractive prospects but too much silence after I hit that "Match".

I very desperately want to experience a romance for the first time in my life.

I've made peace with the fact that this would be my first one even as I'm in my 30s. A lot of us LGBT folks don't get our "firsts" until much, much later. And in any case experience does not equate health and/or happiness.

I still want the experience.

When I go out on my own in a nice blouse or sweater, makeup popping, medical mask on straight, and earrings swinging...I admit I wish I was with another woman who thinks I'm pretty and attractive and tells me so. I'd love to feel and do the same for her.

I want to catch another woman's eye In That Way and she catches mine.

I'd love for her to maybe catch me in the door on the way out of the event and maybe ask me out for coffee.

I would love, love, love a casual coffee shop date. There's so many little lovely hole-in-the-wall coffee shops in my town that I enjoy, but hell I'll even take St*rbucks too. I'm a touchy-feeling person that would enjoy even a small, hand touch in-between sips of hot, festive coffee/tea drinks.

Even if none of that leads to the eventual marriage I want...I admit to myself that I still want those experiences and I want to feel safe in them.

But I as much as I want that, I am still abjectly terrified of another woman asking me out on a coffee date in public, in real life.

That's...sad. That's sad that I'm terrified of the potential exposure and possible resulting danger of going on a coffee date as a bisexual woman.

In 2023.

So yes, I've tried...to do it the online way, what felt the safer way for a long time now.

I want to be safe, but I also want to experience if not love just yet, then at least friendship.

I don't...yet see myself walking up to a real-life group of my fellow LGBT's and introducing myself as bisexual. I'd just want to be "Amarie".

I have absolutely no idea when or if Amarie would drop the Bisexual Bomb on anybody in the group.

Would I even be accepted just as Amarie? I've always already been "queer" as in "strange" even before I knew I was bisexual at age 25: I enjoy kids' media more than adults; my voice is higher than oft expected; I can giggle endlessly; and I unintentionally hide high intelligence behind jocularity and affability.

And lately, sometimes...I worry that I can't find my way through (or do I go around?) the tight, but intense chasm between being a romance sap who deeply wants to be partnered vs. being an already deeply, intersectionally-marginalized black woman with already full-blown C-PTSD that just as deeply wants and deserves to be safe.

I don't want it to eat me up.

I'm just...still not sure how to be safe and happy at the same time. And I hate that I still live in a world where the two just might still be mutually exclusive.

I...wish I knew how to be brave enough that I could open up the closet door just a little bit more than a peek.