#then and there that when they spoke of hyperfixation they just meant liking a random piece of media and talking about it at random times

[sasukeless]

the complete damage fandoms have done to the word hyperfixation

[yuurivoice]

Do you have any sort of dislike toward autistic people?

No??????

This is a wild question, but I'll bite.

I interact with multiple autistic people in my day to day life, and that expands beyond my inner circle of friends and into the broader community as well. As an ADHD haver, we're sorta rubbing elbows here and I wonder what would have turned up had I been tested for autism myself. We spoke about it during my screening and it came up as a "huh, maybe" but we didn't pursue it and it didn't get diagnosed.

In the course of my eight years of doing this whole YuuriVoice thing, I have dealt with a wide variety of internet strangers. Unfortunately this includes people who are purposefully rude, entitled, or some flavor of shitty and I have taken a firm stance when certain attitudes and language smacks me in the face. It has saved me a lot of grief from jerks.

Even more unfortunate is that sometimes there are autistic folks who for no fault of their own might come off that way when dealing with me anonymously, when I have no clue who a person is, what their intentions are, or what tone they are trying to take. So they end up getting bonked when they didn't need to be, and I wouldn't have bonked them in the first place had I known.

As it turns out, when someone is a random anonymous message in a sea of hundreds, I cannot actually decipher who is who or what is what. In any interaction I have had with someone I am familiar with and have even a slight understanding or inkling that they may be autistic, it's a whole different story because I can use my understanding and experience to manage my own expectations and comprehension of the interaction we are having.

It is sort of a strange phenomena because it's not like there's been some sort of sudden spike in autism amongst my audience, that's not how that works. They've been here the whole time. If I had to hypothesize, the latest batch of young adults who've found me might have folks who have not had the same experiences online that us older folks have had that sorta trained us differently. Not to sound like a boomer, but I think most millennials dealing with a variety of cosmic mental gacha rewards could probably attest to this. So we might have a lot of people having new types of interactions in new spaces.

I think on my end, I need to start assuming the best of people's intentions instead of the worst. I had to be hard in the early years, and there were genuinely people who would behave in ways that would bug the shit outta me and it had to be called out and dealt with in the light so people understood the expectation. It could also turn off people, and that was a loss I was willing to accept if it meant people didn't treat me like a content machine to be bent to their will and poked with sticks if their favorite blorbo didn't want to have a damn pet...for example. I swear to you, that exact interaction could happen with someone neurotypical who just wanted to kick my shins and give me a hard time because they didn't like the way I was writing my character. We've seen it happen plenty over the years, I've lived it, it's a thing.

So no, I have no issue with autistic folks. I cannot immediately diagnose someone based of the flavor of their text and assume the nature of their intentions. Through years of being an online person, I've been conditioned to be on the lookout for certain flags and unfortunately there are times where a completely innocent person ends up bumping into a guardrail.

Much like how I cannot control how people react and behave, I would caution against expecting me to not also react and behave in my own ways. I'm a person who struggles with my own shit too, and have had to manage it and purposefully adapt to my situation.

My little comfort characters I cooked up for my own delight ended up getting popular, and at any given moment they're loved, hated, slandered, adored, hyperfixated upon, not good enough, the best thing ever, absolute abominations, or just ALMOST okay but I didn't do it exactly how they would have done it. It's obviously a wonderful thing, that's the dream, people give a fuck about my work! But the downside is, that shit has my head in a blender constantly and is why I try to step back from wading into the deeper waters of the community, because I'm managing my own shit and trying not to make it everyone else's problem.

When things land in my inbox, anonymously, it's a big ol soup of everyone who could at any point be either my biggest hater, biggest fan, or just a troll who wants to piss in my cheerios.

So again, I will endeavor to try and assume the best intentions instead of the worst, and when in doubt I can just...STFU and not respond. It's that easy, so I should probably keep that in mind.

Hopefully that helps explain some of what's up in that regard, and certainly if anyone has felt like they've burdened me or been a nuisance, they should know that I understand and immediately recatagorize that interaction in my brain. So for example, the Finn Pet thing, I responded by stating that I was uncomfortable and understood and accepted that they did not have ill intentions. I'm not going to pretend I liked the question or the tone, but I respect that it was not coming from a place of trying to give me a hard time and I don't hold it against them. I like to think that is how moments of unintentional friction should be handled among adults. Apologies do not suddenly make things okay or undo your discomfort, but there is an understanding of the intent and an acceptance. I don't want to infantalize people, if I said "awww it's okay you're not dumb here let me indulge your headcanon" that not only sends the wrong message about how to respond to people who self depricate in response to negative reactions, but...no, I'm not just going to double back and treat the question differently.

Alright, I gave this a whole lotta energy and genuine care. I hope it is taken as such and we're all square.

[the-sparrow-sings]

Which Fable is your favorite and how long have you been playing? :)

I started playing when I was super young myself lol

Thank you for asking! I honestly can't remember how old I was. I know I was pretty young, but I can't remember if my brother was born yet or not when I started playing (I am SIGNIFICANTLY older than my brother, and I did a lot of his raising. If we were in a Fable game, I'd have died in the tutorial).

I do remember buying him his own copy at some point so he could play in his room when he was old enough to play it (my mom had a hyperfixation on fixing broken game consoles, so people would just give us their red-ringing xbox 360s, or she'd buy them super cheap, so even though we lived in a trailer in the woods we each had an xbox in our rooms lol).

Suffice it to say I was fairly young.

In any case, Fable 2 was my first Fable (my Great-Aunt bought it for me for Christmas when I was young because Sparrow on the cover reminded her of the characters I used to draw), and I hold it INCREDIBLY dear.

To me, Fable 2 (and Fable as a whole) had such an absolutely PERFECT aesthetic of "Fantasy that doesn't take itself too seriously", with pirates, steampunk elements, lampshades to its own plotholes/nonsensical worldbuilding, Frankensteining Lady Grey (my last name used to be Gray, so of course she was my favorite wife). NOT TO MENTION THE COMPLETE NORMALIZATION OF BEING BISEXUAL, WITH CANONICALLY LGB CHARACTERS (though transgender people weren't represented, to my knowledge. Outside of Sparrow's ability to change sex with the potion in the castle)...anyway, as a young bisexual, it meant a lot to me to see "Bisexual" in the description for random NPCs. It wasn't "playersexual" or highlighted to the point of making it seem like the developers were doing it for clout or worse, shock value. Reaver's bisexuality, while flagrant, felt natural in universe considering the fact that we could plainly see that bisexuality is common in Albion.

Though, I will say the fact that I play Fable 3 as though I'm Sparrow's ghost watching it all play out says something about how MUCH I love Fable 2 lol

Sparrow being nonverbal and having a difficult relationship with her mother figure really spoke to me too when I was young. I took the entire narrative SO personally, and it still effects me as an adult lol.

. . .

You didn't ask, but I was WEIRDLY attached to Reaver, to the point where it confused me, and then I later found out that Stephen Fry voiced an audiobook cassette I used to listen to to calm myself down when I woke up from night terrors as a child (a frequent occurrence). I was pavloved into finding Reaver EXTREMELY comforting. So I guess it makes sense that I picture Reaver as a sort of toxic unhealthy source of comfort for Sparrow in the aftermath of all that happened with The Spire. (Especially since Reaver himself suffers from night terrors)

I'm the Creative Lead at a ghostwriting agency that specializes in romance (increasingly more Fantasy Romance) and I feel like Fable 2 shaped a lot about my writing. It was just very good at having rich worldbuilding without having to make the narrative point to it like "LOOK AT MY RICH WORLD BUILDING". Spreaver was also THE first major "Ship" that I lost my mind over. So, my career as a romance writer was severely influenced by the way I ship Spreaver.

Reaver and Sparrow are T H E comfort characters for me.

ANYWAY THANK YOU FOR ASKING!!

[sailordiavolo]

Sparda Headcanons

nobody asked, but i’ve had many thoughts about Sparda lately, and i need to get them out before i go mentally insane

[ mostly general headcanons about Sparda himself, with some including his relationship with eva and the twins. ]

sparda started out like trish; a full demon who learned compassion, love and empathy, despite those traits not occurring naturally to demon kind.

when he did experience these emotions for the first time, it completely blew him away and fundamentally changed him. he became horrified by things such as the qliphoth tree, which eventually motivated his rebellion.

sparda, similar to mundus, could spiritually inhabit statues that were made in his likeness. there was one placed in fortuna, the purpose of which was originally to watch the hell gate for potential activity

though he would quickly dispatch of demons that tore into the human world, he wouldn’t meddle with human politics or affairs.

unlike vergil, sparda’s hair (in his human form) naturally grew out of his head in that slicked-back manner because that was how his horns grew (curled backwards). his hair even curved out and around like his horns did if he let it grow long enough

he had a romanticised view of humanity. he loved humanity like a neurodivergent person loves their hyperfixation

sparda spent most of his time in the human world in his demon form. he would occasionally take a human form when he wished to experience certain human things firsthand, or if he wanted to blend in, but he did this sparingly

while sparda was alive and at his strongest, there were a lot less demons trying to break into the human world, so the dark knight was often left with long periods of time to himself.

though he had learned empathy and compassion, sparda did not form close, loving bonds with humans for many centuries. thus the dark knight did not really have a concept of loneliness. he read about it, but didn’t really understand.

sparda was very reluctant to let people into his inner world, especially humans, who lived their entire lives and died before he could so much as draw a breath. there had been attempts to mingle with humans, but he stuck out like a sore thumb, or would outright scare people if he was in his demon form.

in his spare time, sparda liked to travel the world and visit various places, observing people, cultures, languages, arts and customs.

several different cultures have legends that somewhat fit the description of the legendary dark knight, but at present, nobody knows how accurate these legends are, and many of these legends do not mention him by name. they tell of his bravery and heroism.

sparda, like vergil, loved poetry and the artistic pursuits that humans created. (after all, swordsmanship is an art, too.) he admired the beauty of human art, especially the ways they used it to express emotions or tell stories

sparda liked to collect weapons and armor, even ones of human creation because they fascinated him. contrary to popular belief, sparda had been wielding guns since they were first invented, although for several hundred years they weren’t any match for most demons.

sparda’s mansion was like his den. it was filled with human literature, a lot of ancient texts in ancient languages; including various works of art, textiles, collections of weapons (including Luce & Ombra) and various items he’d been given as acts of worship. The doors and ceilings were very high because of how tall Sparda was in his demon form.

he had a colllection of human trinkets, various things he’d find that he thought were interesting, but didn’t really know what they were for. random mundane items, like an egg beater, hot water bottle, electric appliances that he doesn’t know how to turn on, spinning tops, and the like. he’d sort of just guess what they were for and put them up in places.

in his human form, he liked to dress in ways that imitated his favorite characters in books.

sparda had wished to know love like what he read about, like in the stories humans love to tell, which just seemed to be intrinsic to their nature. he could sort of understand shakespearean tragedies with his own understanding of love and compassion, yet for many centuries he still found the true meaning of such love to remain elusive to him.

eva was as curious about him as he was about her and humans in general. he would ask her questions about humans (initially, he had a lot of misconceptions about humans) and she would ask questions about him. when he was more comfortable around her, he showed her his human trinkets collection and asked her to explain what they were for. (he did not think that the egg beater was for mixing eggs).

he was bad at socialising and often spoke in a way that sounded ancient and out-of-place, sometimes mixing middle english with modern english, but he improved after meeting eva, since he had more practice after that.

after finding out sparda liked things such as poetry and literature, eva would bring him other human things to try; films, music, food and the like. just as vergil got his love of literature from his parents, dante got his love of music, dance and film from his parents, too. (sparda a fan of old western films? more likely than you’d think)

like dante and vergil, sparda was prone to aging in his human form. that’s why you see the version of him in dmc1 (pretty young-looking) and the older version of him as seen in the family portrait. ( see below )

therefore, it was a HUGE decision to marry eva and stay with her. it meant staying in human form, which meant aging, which meant shortening his own lifespan. although it was a big decision to make the commitment to marry eva, when the time came, he made the decision instantly.

he could’ve lived thousands of years longer had he left her alone, or had he resolved to watching her wither away and die from old age, but that was a very lonely existence, and once he had known eva, he had known loneliness and he had known sorrow.

eva and sparda were married for many years before the children came into the picture. (eva has a banging skin care routine btw)

sparda actually wanted children because of the many times he’d witnessed the loving bond between a human parent and child. it was a type of love he’d secretly longed for

though he wanted children, he was very reluctant to actually create them with eva, because of the potential risks involved with carrying hybrid offspring. not only that, but eva being the mother to his offspring would only put her in even more mortal danger from his enemies.

but eva had insisted, soothed him and reassured him. eva understood the risks of becoming a mother this way, and she was prepared to go through with it anyway.

dante was a mommy’s boy and vergil was a daddy’s boy

sparda was a great storyteller. he would recount in great detail his various adventures to the children, or sometimes read his favourite books to them. dante was only interested in stories where the hero defeats the bad guy, whereas vergil would soak up anything his father told him. thus, vergil was privy to many stories that dante wasn’t.

by the time the twins were young children, sparda had aged considerably since he first married eva, meaning his power had begun to dwindle. this meant he was away from home more often, because more and more demons were beginning to break into the human world.

and once mundus figured out that sparda had fathered children (with a human woman, no less) they’d begun to target the wife and kids.

dante specifically remembered waiting for his father to return on several different occasions, but being disappointed many times. vergil however, understood that sparda was protecting them, because he was the strongest, and there was no one else who could.

the twins often bickered about this. vergil would remind him that his little attitude towards father was “foolish”. at which point dante would try and hit him in the face. (he only managed to actually hit vergil half the time)

while sparda was gone, the twins would stay with eva. sparda’s excursions grew longer and longer, until one day he did not return at all.

dante in his youth held a grudge against his father for his absentee behavior, but it wasn’t until he was much older where he finally understood where his father was coming from. and dante too had become like his old man in thay regard, pushing loved ones away with the intention of protecting them.

and it wasn’t until much later that vergil had finally realised that sparda’s love was his driving force behind the immense power he wielded; sparda’s love for the beauty of humanity. a realisation that had come far too late for vergil.

if sparda and eva had’ve known how it ended for them and given a chance to take it all back, they wouldn’t do it. they knew what they were getting themselves into when they chose to bring dante and vergil into the world. the only regret they would’ve had is not being able to spend more time together as a family.

[immortalcoelacanth]

Between the Walls, Chapter 1: Roommates (Dream SMP fic)

I've noticed there's an unfortunate lack in Borrower AU content, and as that shit is my jam I'm putting forth the content I wish to see into the fandom XD

To quote my friend, "I do not control the hyperfixation"

Word count: 4497

Summary: At first retirement had sounded like an excellent idea. Make a house far away from everyone else, get some peace and quiet, no longer concern himself with the total garbage that was the local government. Nice things, relaxing things.… 

But then the scratching in the walls started happening.

Techno groaned as he flopped backwards into his chair, tired eyes staring into the glowing fireplace as he relaxed after his busy day. A day full of building, repairing the damage dealt by the creeper population, and…

A day spent trying to find any signs of his thief.

You see, Techno had assumed that retirement would be an excellent way to unwind from the massive amount of blood that had been shed after L’Manberg went up in smoke, as well as the aggravation he felt towards his sweet, innocent cows being slaughtered and his bunker being raided.

Raided and dismantled thanks to Phil stealing his bookshelves and in turn chunks of the wall.

It was scuffed, horribly scuffed, and left him with one option.

Relocation.

That, combined with the wanted posters Quackity had hung up demanding his capture and subsequent execution after what he had done. Honestly, talk about the biggest character arc for Quackity, going from fearing him to taking an active role in trying to end his life.

Too bad for him that Technoblade never dies.

But still, having to constantly deal with being attacked while no longer having a truly safe and secure base was troublesome, so he had sought out to make a new home far from L’Manberg and all other communities.

The isolation did not scare him, on the contrary he liked having a space all to his own with no worries about socialization or someone bothering him. Besides, Phil could always visit him if he wanted some company.

Fortunately, constructing his new home had taken relatively little time once he had found the best spot for it, and with some help from Phil, moving all the important resources and equally important fixtures of his home had taken even less time.

All in all, Techno had managed to acquire a new sanctuary away from all the plotting and scheming, although he had a feeling someone would try to mess with him at some point, and he had plenty of space to make a brand new vault. He had achieved peace and quiet, and was even in the process of planning on making a turtle farm. Surely all these positive developments would mean he was happy, right?

Well, he would be if it weren’t for the fact that there was a thief rummaging through his home.

It started with small things, like his chests becoming less and less organized over time. Yes, there were moments where he simply chucked whatever useless items were in his inventory into the nearest empty chest, but he would never clutter up chests containing important items, like potions and enchanted books.

So, finding several misplaced items as well as random blocks of dirt and stone, practically pebbles given their size, while also finding certain resources such as wood and leather missing was the first sign of something strange going on.

The next was the odd noises that seemed to come from the walls of his home. Faint scratches that would be inaudible to anyone but himself due to his heightened hearing. It reminded of a rat infestation, and he unconsciously shuddered.

Not due to fear or discomfort, but the sheer amount of work it would take to get rid of a pest infestation. At that point he might as well take his house apart and build elsewhere.

However, despite his suspicions and hypothesis, there was practically no evidence to support. There were, thankfully, no signs of rat activity, or activity from any other pests. No scratches, bite marks, signs of wood decaying, or anything like that. Other than the noise and the strangely messy organization of his chests, there was no sign of the thief.

And he had looked.

Intensely, as best he could. Logic and inductive reasoning had led him to this conclusion. There was a thief, so there had to be signs of this thief somewhere. A lack of footprints meant they must use pearls to get around. The fact that his rarer resources had not been stolen, his potions of strength and enchanted books, meant that his thief was either unconcerned with stealing things of value from him and just wanted to mess with him, or they were a cocky idiot.

… So it was either Ranboo or-

His ears perked up, cutting off his train of thought as he glanced over at the nearby wall. His eyes narrowed and he pushed himself up and out of his chair before striding over to the wall, cape swishing about behind him.

He pressed the side of his head against the wall, eyes closing as he tried to focus on where the sound was coming from. It was here! It had to be! There was something hidden in this very wall. The source of his annoyance, his thief.

Well, there was only one way to find out.

Techno readied his axe, and swung it down-

                                                   xxxxxxxxxx

There are times where Tommy can’t stop himself from looking in the nearest reflective surface and asking how he managed to fuck things up this bad. It was painful to recall the steps that had led him to this outcome, the signs obvious but he had been too stupid and ignorant to pay them any mind.

Causing trouble was in his blood, something the local borrower community had reluctantly accepted over the years, helped by how eager he was to throw himself into dangerous situations. Something that should have been concerning to the adults who watched them, taught them how to borrow, how to gather items and even hunt in order to survive, but he had learned that lesson at a very, very young age.

The lesson that no one would step in to help him if he was in danger. That he was on his own and had to prove his worth in order to stay, constantly putting his life on the line for the slightest crumb of respect.

To hear someone say that he had done a good job, to be thanked for his hard work instead of always being brushed off and ignored.

Of course, his friendship with Tubbo helped to soothe that constant within him, dulling the sting of rejection while reminding him that there was one person who truly cared about him. One person who would always be there for him, would lift him up when he was down, and jump into any situation to protect him.

Orphans had to stick together, after all.

And it was a good thing they did end up working together as the duo balanced each other out perfectly. Tommy was far more outgoing and blunt, hotheaded being the best word to describe him. He was willing to do whatever he needed, always ready to speak up when he thought there was bullshit going on, and spoke his mind freely.

It was an ironic honesty, a trait that one assumed would help to attract friends but only aided in driving them away.

Meanwhile, Tubbo was much softer in some ways. Much more reserved than Tommy, he was more of a thinker and planner. Nowhere near as comfortable with spontaneous action as his friend, but he had the knowledge and skills to reign in those impulsive actions before things got dangerous.

They were the best of friends, pals to the very end.

Even though they would never see each other again.

And it was all his fault.

Tommy had ruined everything.

The plan had been simple, easy. All he wanted to do was mess up Mrs. Brigsburry’s house. Just a tiny touch of crime and freaking the old bat out.

She deserved so much worse because of that day. The pot that had been thrown at Tubbo and how much blood Tommy had seen running down the side of his face. The bitch’s shrieks and curses as she insulted them over and over again.

Swearing they both should have died with their parents-

How was he supposed to know he accidentally left one of her rags near the lit stove, the fire within causing the piece of fabric to ignite and in turn allowing the flames to spread to the rest of the house.

It was a good thing she lived on the edge of Borrowton, the fires thankfully only burning her home to the ground.

No one wanted to live near an asshole like her.

Tommy, who had been feeling proud of himself, quickly experienced true regret and fear once the meeting started. Shouts, demands, and insults had flown through the air, many of the people he had grown up with insisting that he be tossed out for what he had done, exiled from the only home he had ever known.

It had been terrifying to see how quickly everyone had turned against him, how they refused to give him the chance to defend himself or even explain why he had done what he did. Not even Tubbo had been able to protect him from the crowd’s wrath, his attempts at standing in front of Tommy and blocking him from sight thwarted when one of the adults grabbed his arm and dragged him elsewhere.

He would never be able to forget the haunting sight of Tubbo reaching for him, tears pouring from his eyes as he screamed his name over and over. It was the last time he had seen his friend, too.

And yet, this was not the worst part of his punishment.

He had been given an hour, one measly hour, to pack up everything he had ever owned before being forcefully exiled from Borrowton. The realization of what was happening had slammed into him all at once, leaving Tommy trembling and unable to move.

He was going to lose everything he had ever known, everything he had worked so hard to build, Tubbo-

He was going to lose his Tubbo.

And there was nothing he could do to stop it.

No amount of begging or pleading had stopped the adults who dragged him to his shoddy, shared home. He had groveled on his hands and knees, promising to change, to do better, to do whatever they wanted if they just let him stay.

Don’t take my Tubbo away. Don’t take him away. I need him, I need him-

Smack!

The harsh sting of his cheek and the painful sensation of his neck snapping back from the force of the slap was enough to snap Tommy out of his trance. He blinked and looked around, feeling all the more disconnected from reality as he noticed the two bags that had been placed beside him.

One for food, and one for clothes and tools.

… He was really getting exiled, wasn’t he?

“You have no one to blame but yourself for this.” The adult beside him grumbled, dragging the stunned teen up to his feet and shoving him towards the door.

“Front gate. Now. And if I find you causing more trouble, you’ll be leaving with nothing but the clothes on your back.” The man sneered.

For a moment that spark of anger rose up in him, rage flowing through his veins and making his fists clench while he ground his teeth together. The urge to lash out, both physically and verbally, was strong, and yet…

As quickly as those feelings emerged, they faded, and Tommy was left feeling hollow and drained. What was the point in fighting back if all he did was get himself into more trouble. It was obvious they weren’t going to change their minds, he would be exiled no matter what, and if he did lash out-

Tubbo screaming his name as he was dragged away, snot and tears flowing down his face. Thrashing and struggling in a futile attempt to reach him.

… The risk, the damage he could do to his friend, was far greater than the satisfaction of breaking the man’s knobby nose. So, with extreme reluctance, Tommy left the house and made his way towards the front gate. The streets were surprisingly empty, he had expected to see a mob of people cheering while watching him leave, maybe even get the occasional bit of dirt thrown his way.

Treated like the trash they thought he was.

His send off lacked all formality. Only the usual guards of the gate were present, and even then they paid him no mind. He was simply shoved towards another borrower, a lady this time who, based on the immense amount of foliage covering her clothes, spent most of her life out in the wild.

God, how would he ever survive out there. Between the wild animals, the shitty weather, and the mobs that would wander the lands when darkness fell, he was doomed.

He had only ever known how to survive in his community, where you could barter for goods and depend on someone to help you. Now he wouldn’t have any of that. There would be no shelter, no safety in numbers-

No Tubbo.

Numb, Tommy was shoved towards the woman and quietly took note of the presence of the animal he could not see before. It was a fox, quite large compared to him and the other borrowers, and domesticated since it wasn’t ripping anyone apart.

… Or maybe it was just waiting until he got outside, then it would rip him to shreds. Wouldn’t want any blood splatters staining the inside of the gate.

He was so absolutely, royally fucked.

“C’mon, we gotta get moving.” The woman barked, grabbing his arm and pushing him towards the fox with little care for his comfort and the fact that she was adding more bruises to his arm. Tommy hissed in pain and rubbed the aching spot while glaring at her.

Everyone in this place was a fucking asshole.

“Alright, alright, chill the fuck out. I’m moving.” Tommy grumbled as, after a moment of hesitance, buried his hands in the animal’s warm fur and climbed up its side. A moment later, the woman jumped up to join him, taking a seat near the fox’s shoulders while Tommy struggled to pull his bags up as well.

Finally, once his meager supplies had joined him, it was time for them to set off. He had nearly been thrown off as the fox stood up, and when the animal sprinted out of the hidden tunnel and into the fading sunlight-

Well, it was a good thing he managed to grab hold of his bags before they were knocked off. He shuddered in the sudden, stinging breeze, and did his best to hunker down into the warm fur below him. He had no idea where they were going, no clue what far away biome he would be abandoned in, and quietly decided to not think about it further. The last thing he wanted to do was to start crying.

… Even if he had been ever since they first left the front gate.

He quickly rubbed at his face, trying to dry the lingering tears so there were less signs as to his degenerating mental state, and instead decided that it would be best to strike up a conversation, something that would help to distract him from what was going on.

Tubbo, Tubbo. He missed Tubbo. He wanted to see Tubbo again-

“Name’s Tommy!” He called out. “What’s yours?”

Silence was his answer.

“... Well fuck you too then.”

Much like the start of their journey, the rest of the trip was silent as the fox ran through various biomes, fields, and forests. On multiple occasions they stopped, the woman gathering some sort of herb every single time.

… Perhaps she was making drugs.

Tommy snorted to himself at the joke, mood lifting just the slightest bit before plummeting back to bedrock. God, he was tired. His body ached from sitting still for so long, as well as the general discomfort from the fox nimbly jumping from cliff to cliff, ducking around trees, and just being an agile shitbag. It was annoying and he hated it.

… Hated the fact that he was getting further and further away from his friend. Hated the fact that the fox could cover far more distance than he could ever hope of traversing on his own, and that the odds of him managing to reunite with Tubbo at some point were growing slimmer with every block they crossed.

Eventually they reached the coldest biome Tommy had experienced yet, ponds covered by ice and snow layering the ground. The snow seemed to muffle their surroundings, the only sounds coming from the snow crunching under the fox’s paws and the animal’s panting as it started to feel the strain of their journey.

And yet, for as desolate as this tundra seemed to be, Tommy spotted something in the distance. A structure that was definitely man made and appeared to be well taken care of, which meant there was someone living there.

Someone he could mooch off of and boost his chance at surviving his exile.

It had been a stroke of pure luck that he had managed to convince the borrower escorting him to change their route, practically begging her to take him to the lit house that was just barely visible through the snow.

The sounds of Tommy sniffling and sobbing since the start of their journey had probably helped to wear down her resolve to take him to wherever he was originally supposed to go.

In the end, she had agreed and directed the fox towards the house. It was interesting to see her previous confidence of navigating the cold tundra diminish the closer they got to their destination, as though she was unsettled by the house.

Strange, but then again she probably thought the same of him and how much of an idiot he was for getting kicked out of somewhere perfectly safe.

Safe aside from the prying eyes, the cruel words and harsh hands. His salvation was Tubbo and their whispered promises. They would leave one day, set out into the world and make their own home.

The moment they arrived at their destination, the woman wasted no time in metaphorically, and literally, kicking him off the fox. He dropped into the freezing snow, landing face first, and pushing himself up seconds later to cough out the chilly substance that had invaded his mouth.

The memory of Tubbo laughing as his snowball hit Tommy in the face, the other teen turning to the side and yelling about how “cold as shit” it was.

“Maybe you should try keeping your mouth shut for once.” Tubbo teased as Tommy, snow still stuck to parts of his face, flipped him off.

“Fuck you.”

Tubbo’s laughter rang out around them, and the teen kept laughing until his face was red and tears leaked out of the corners of his eyes.

… Damn, it was cold.

Trembling, he stood up just in time to dodge the bags that had been carelessly thrown his way, getting a concussion from one of his tools would definitely be a death sentence in this situation, and he promptly flipped the woman off.

“Oi! Watch where you’re throwing that shit!” He shouted before crouching down to inspect his supplies, quietly relieved that nothing seemed to have been damaged. “Fucking bitch...”

She just rolled her eyes in response to his insults and looked unimpressed as he grumbled, huffed, and got himself organized. No words were exchanged between the duo, no goodbyes or wishes for good luck, just the howling of the winds while the borrower made his way to his new home.

As Tommy had trudged through the too tall snow, he had been oblivious to the way the woman stared at the house, eyes wide with some sort of emotion. Was it fear? Not quite, it was more a combination of dread mixed with reverence, emotions fueled by her knowledge of the being who resided in this place. A whispered phrase floated through the air, much too quiet for him to have heard. It was a simple sentence that made her stance and understanding of the situation clear.

“Blood for the Blood God.”

Then she fled, leaving Tommy alone to deal with whatever fate he had stumbled into by breaking into the house.

And what a house it was.

All pretty and neatly designed, complete with various floors and tons of storage, and even some decorative flowers outside the windows, which meant Tommy had many things to rummage through. The roaring fireplace was an added bonus since the cold was one of the things he had been the most worried about.

Knowing those assholes, they had probably planned to abandon him somewhere in the tundra, leaving him alone and freezing in the cold…

Honestly, all things considered, this was a good place to settle down in. He had basically everything he needed, as well as access to some rarer resources too. It was ideal, practically perfect given how easy it would be to create small, unnoticeable entrances into each chest for him to use to snag items, but there was one downside to his new home.

His roommate.

He was tall, far taller than anyone Tommy had ever seen before, and he looked… weird. Like one of those pig monsters he had heard stories about back in Borrowton. Monsters from hell that craved gold and bloodshed. With his pig-like features, including a set of tusks that poked up from his lower jaw, he was a perfect match for those nightmarish beasts.

… But, they weren’t in hell, and this man seemed to be far less gold and bloodshed obsessed than the stories had said, even with the various scars the borrower had seen littering his body.

It was weird, he was weird, and the weirdness had only increased the more time Tommy spent in the house. Despite his regal attire, consisting of a flowing cape and golden crown, it was obvious that the pig-man was no prince or nobility. Plus there were those shitty reading glasses Tommy had seen him wearing once, stuck together with taping and looking like they were on the verge of breaking again. He was the strangest combination of loud-yet-awkward behaviour, something that the borrower actually related to quite a bit. His roommate was not “normal” and acted how he wanted, whenever he wanted, with little regard to how “improper”, “violent”, or “rude” he was.

Like Tommy…

He found it comforting to know that there was someone else more like him out there, someone else who was unlike everyone in Borrowton, someone else who would know what it felt like to be treated as an outcast, like he did not belong there or anywhere. Stuck in this new place, he did not feel as alone as he originally expected.  

He did not consider the possible problems this could cause in the future, of course. Tommy had never the best at planning ahead since that had been Tubbo’s specialty-  

But, the positives ended there as he realized that trying to survive in this relatively small, isolated house was going to be far more of a challenge then he had originally anticipated, with his roommate presenting the greatest obstacle to his success. Breaking in had been easy, actually situating himself and building a decent base within the walls of the house was downright impossible in these circumstances. At most he had managed to dig out a shitty hole close to the fireplace where he stashed all his stolen goods.

And even if he wanted to leave, it was impossible thanks to all the snow and how bloody cold this damn biome was!

So, here Tommy was, having essentially trapped himself with some creepy pig guy who owned too many weapons for comfort and was decked out like he was about to fight the whole damn world. Sure, his house was pretty nice, there was tons of food for him to steal and snack on, and the resources were plenty, but he would have rather had anyone else as a roommate in this situation.  

At least this guy was in retirement, or whatever that meant.

He let out an annoyed sigh, arms dropping as he allowed his axe to rest against the wooden floor of the passage he had been carving out. While most of the house was made out of concrete, Tommy had focused on carving passages through the wooden supports in order to have a network of tunnels he could easily move around in without being spotted. All in all, it was a good plan, even if it was a massive pain in the ass to make.

It was like every time he started making a tunnel, no matter what time of the day it was, that piggy dipshit would show up and start stalking the walls, looking for him!

… Granted, maybe it wasn’t the best idea to make boar-face all suspicious by messing with his chests, but Tommy needed the resources! And it was pretty funny hearing the surprised sounds the man would make echo through the house.

His trouble making nature might have been the cause for his exile, along with some other bullshit, but that did not mean he would try to suppress it, even if it would be better for him in the long run. That was like asking to stop breathing. It was just a part of him that could only be controlled and never truly stopped.

… He missed Tubbo. He missed him so much and the ache in his chest still had not faded, and he felt all hollow and empty, without purpose-

Unfortunately for the borrower, the world refused to give him a break as he spiraled, his negative emotions distracting him and preventing him from paying attention to his surroundings.

Like the footsteps that were slowly getting closer to his location.

Without warning, the wall beside him cracked and split open, and Tommy let out a terrified shriek. He jumped backwards, dropping his axe in the process as light spilled into the carved out passage.

The now exposed passage.

A passage that had been cracked open by a certain pig man who had clearly been awake instead of asleep like he had assumed. Brilliant red eyes met terrified blue, and Tommy swallowed nervously.

Of course, of fucking course! As if the world didn’t hate him enough as is! Now he had to deal with that pig shithead who’d been tormenting him for days with his stupidly good hearing, preventing him from making any progress in creating his new home.

And of course the second he tried to make a tunnel this bastard just had to appear and ruin everything!

On the plus side, he had not actually done anything yet, although Tommy was certain things would turn south soon based on the axe the man was holding. So, he would live for now, and his shocked state allowed the borrower to make the first move.

“How do,” Tommy greeted, tilting his head to the side and smirking. “You ugly motherfucker.”

If he was going down, he would go down swinging.

                                      xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Technoblade, holding up a cup containing Tommy: So I found this, anyone wanna trade a book of mending for him- Tommy: *feral screaming intensifies*

[snarkwriteswrasslin]

Title: jack daniels kisses

Theme: Bonfire

Fandom / Character(s): Adam Page, AEW

Warnings: Lots of fluff and sweetness, lots of cuddling. Alcohol tw.

Word Count: 1k... with a moodboard. I swear I meant this to be a blurb but I got... a little carried away. Typical, yeah?

This is my entry to @champbucks 12 Days Of Christmas Challenge { @12daysofchristmas } for the day. I just.. wanted to write a suuuuper fluffy blurb about Hangman getting cuddled by a bonfire by self inserted / reader... who may or may not have gotten Britt to get Hangman there, for the sole purpose of cuddling him. So.. there’s that. I WANTED FLUFF. LET ME LIVE.

Tagging:

@kyleoreillysknee​​

@rampagewriting​​

@writertoo18​​

@thatnerdwriter​​

@wrestlingismyguiltypleasure​​

@chasingeverybreakingwave​​

@waywardwrestlewritingwaif​​

@sassymox​​

@champbucks​​

@hungmanhorsecarriage​​

@wardl0w​​

@ryantaylorgirl​​

@dilfmoxley​​

@hotyeehawman​​

@gabbynorth98​​

@bec0m​​

@irish-newzealand-idian-dutch​​

@daddyslittlevillain​​

[ about page | masterlist | tag list ]

Everybody was kind of doing their own thing. My brother and Britt were chasing each other around the yard in front of the cabin, with the rest of my brother’s friends all  yelling and pelting each other with snow at random.

I wanted… absolutely no part of that insanity, so I drifted around back of the cabin. Out to the fire that my brother and Britt lit earlier and basically forgot about, my phone’s music app playing softly for background noise. 

I wasn’t the only one with the idea, apparently, because Adam Page already sat at the fire, staring into it intently. A bottle of whiskey clenched in his hands, arms starting to purple from the chill in the air. I stood there, leaned against the corner of my parents lakeside cabin just staring at him a good few seconds. I think I was debating on whether or not I should walk over. Whether it would be bothering Adam Page.

The chill in the air picked up and I wound up wandering over anyway. Sinking down onto the opposite end of the log Adam was sitting on, huddling deeper into my blanket as I took steady sips of my hot cocoa to keep warm. My eyes settled on his bottle of whiskey and I started to ask if he’d pour a shot or two into my mug, but when I went to open my mouth, words didn’t come. So I closed my mouth and turned my attention to the fire again.

Older country gave way to Def Leppard and I tapped my foot against crunchy snow, humming under my breath just to keep the tension-filled silence at bay. But I couldn’t take too much of it.

“Do you think you could pour just a smidge of that in my cocoa, Adam?” I didn’t even realize I’d finally asked the question until his head snapped up and bright baby blues fixed on me as if I’d startled him. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully, mulling it over. My teeth chattered and I nodded to muscular and nearly bare arms. “How are you not freezing your ass off right now?”

Adam brandished the bottle of whiskey and then turned to the side slightly, nodding to the fire. I gave a soft laugh and moved in a little closer because apparently, all the fire’s warmth was nearer to where he sat on the log and not where I sat.

Adam cleared his throat and finally spoke up.

“Gimme your mug, darlin.”

When I apparently didn’t hear, frankly I was far too caught up in staring at his side profile and the fire alternately, he reached out just as I raised the warm mug to my mouth again, rough hands tenderly wrapping around my wrist and guiding the mug closer to him. He uncapped the bottle of whiskey and poured about two shots of it in, using my peppermint stick to stir it around a little. During this, I wound up staring at him intently. Licking my lips when he raised the mug to his own and took a little sip, groaning. Fanning his mouth a little.

“Careful! That’s hot. I literally just got it off the stove before I finally dragged myself out here with everyone.” I warned, moving closer to him as I gazed at him in concern. He chuckled and shrugged it off.

“You melt a chocolate bar in there or somethin?” Adam asked as he let me take the cup back, his tongue rolling over his lips to lick away the cocoa left behind. It took everything in me not to hyperfixate on his mouth. Or the way moonlight made his lips glisten after he’d dragged his tongue across it.

“Mhm.. Secret weapon to great cocoa. Always let a hersheys kiss or two melt in the bottom while it’s real hot.” I finally managed to answer, taking a few big sips. The whiskey and the cocoa mixed almost perfectly and the hint of mint from my melting peppermint stick. I gave a quiet groan and lowered the cup, sitting it on the ground next to my foot.

“It’s awful sweet.”

“Kind of why I wanted the whiskey addition.” I teased Adam gently. I could see the goosebumps forming on his arms and maybe that’s what prompted me to move into his side even closer, stretching my oversized blanket so that it also covered his broad shoulders as well as me. He eyed me, a brow raised. “You’re gonna freeze now, I..”

“You were already freezing though, don’t argue with me, Adam.” I gave him a firm look and he chuckled quietly, mumbling something to himself. It sounded like he said alright then. And as Def Leppard faded and turned into Dustin Lynch’s Cowboys and Angels, I stood and held out my hand to him.

Everyone else was caught up in their own thing. And I thought maybe if I got Adam dancing and talking a little more, it’d pull him out of whatever he had going on in his head. Adam eyed my hand and I tapped my foot a little, making him chuckle and rub his chin. “You askin me to dance?”

“Obviously.” I smiled softly, offering my hand again.

He mumbled to himself again and finally, he stood. Strong arms wrapped around me and before he really pulled me against him, I was cuddling against him anyway, my forehead resting against the center of his chest. The scent of his cologne and the bonfire smoke mixing perfectly and making me smile against the fabric of his shirt as I gave a quiet sigh. I felt his chin settle on the top of my head and heard him laugh quietly. 

It got me to look up.

“What’s funny, huh?” I pretended to pout.

“This ain’t exactly how I saw tonight goin when Britt insisted I stop by.”

I shrugged and smiled. “Is that a good thing or a bad one?”

“Good, actually. Better than I thought. Figured I’d be tryin t’ leave by now.”

“Oh no, no.. I wouldn’t let that happen.. Not when I pretty much begged Britt to get you here in the first place.”

Adam’s eyes widened a little and he blinked in surprise. “You.. Wait a minute, hon.. Why?”

“Because I wanted to see you again, okay? And you looked sad when I came out to visit Britt that last time. Last thing I wanted was you to spend the holiday weekend by yourself.”

“Is ‘at so?”

“Mhm.” I hummed quietly. Maren Morris and Hozier’s song, The Bones came on and I started to hum along, just cuddling myself against him a little bit more. He chuckled and reached up, his fingertips tucking beneath my jawline to make me look at him.

My arms went around his neck and I toyed with the ends of his hair, mostly to have something to do with my hands, suddenly filled with energy, unable to keep still. We locked eyes again and he was leaning in, down a little.

“What would you do if I kissed ya right now, huh?”

“Try it and see, Hangman.” I mumbled, raising to tiptoe, smirking as my mouth brushed right against the corner of his. He caught hold of my face, his thumb rolling over my skin as his hands caressed my cheeks, making my mouth crash right against his and I gave a soft sigh into the kiss. “Is that what you wanted?”

“Getting warmer, yes.” I answered, my tongue slipping past his lips to tangle with his as the taste of his whiskey and my cocoa mixed together and I gave a quiet contented groan...

[maggyoutthere]

Storytime with Maggy!

WARNING: Tws in the tags

Just getting this off my chest because this has been boiling up inside my head for a while. This will be a long one so don't bother to read it if u don't want to; this is legit just so I can get it off my chest.

-

Ok so

Some people that follow me here on tumblr know me from the BATIM Amino. I used to be very active there, even being one of the biggest content creators (I'm not saying that lightly I was literally on the Top 15 when it came to that weird reputation points system) . I recently left Amino as a whole because of something that happened there.

So the story goes like this: I was 13 when I started posting on Amino. Bendy and the Ink Machine Chapter 2 had just come out and I was drawing fanart of it. After a while I started talking more with other artists there, making ocs, just having fun. It went well for a few months until I met this person. For the sake of anonymity, I'll call them HWI (it was an acronym to their persona's name or something).

So I'd been checking out this HWI person for a while now. I really liked their art style and this specific character they had. They had this classy killer 1800s style and I'm an absolute sucker tor those. One day, I got the courage to message them with a small piece of fanart. They replied and liked it, and then the conversation went on.

We commented on each other's art, rp sometimes, we became really close. They later on introduced me to their other friends and we made a small group chat on Amino. We rpd a LOT to pass the time and just play with our characters. I remember staying up late just to talk to them about how my day went. I wasn't very social at the time and I had the bad habit of grabbing onto the first friend I could make like my life depended on it.

So 2018 came around. I was diagnosed with autism, at the time still called Asperger's Syndrome. All I knew was that I finally had a face to put on the problem of "being weird"; it wasn't a problem at all. It was different sure but I wasn't broken or less that anyone else. I didn't told anyone online about my diagnoses because well I was coming to terms with it myself first. This will come in hand later so stick with me.

With time I started realizing I had a favorite character of them that I just liked way way more than the others; that same oc I spoke about earlier. I had no fucking idea why I liked them so much it just??? it happened, and I believe HWI realized that.

We had these two ocs. One of them was mine and the other was their oc, and we kinda shipped them so we just made them a couple for the heck of it. I had lots of fun doing rps and fanart of those two but I never understood why. After a while, HWI started acting a bit weird. They did a total 180 on said character, randomly making them rude and unlikable. Now I know that it was just an rp and I shouldn't have taken it seriously, but it was bumming me out a little: the only place I had to vent out stuff and to take a break was now making me feel bad.

I was stupid by making those small moments the pillar of my self confidence. I was in a rough spot at the time and latched onto that group chat like it was the only good thing I had in life. I now know I shouldn't have done that.

I didn't had the guts to step up and tell HWI to at least don't be so rude so I kinda just took it. A few months went by and I finally had the courage to stand up against them. I had realized at the time that I was having a hyperfixation on said character and I told HWI to just not be that rude. They said they didn't meant it and told me they would stop. Except they didn't.

Then followed 3 years of having HWI dangle that character over my head like some treat for a dog. They'd threaten to stop using said character or to delete their stuff if I didn't behave in the way they wanted. If I had an opinion about something and they didn't liked it, they threatened me with that stuff. I now look back at it and realise "That was just some stupid random character why was I so scared and in panic?" But I was young, didn't had good role models and didn't knew better.

I moved to an arts school when I started 10th grade. There I met a lot of people who were like me; everyone had their very distinctive quirks and troubles they were coming to terms with, people were discovering themselves. Everyone was so different from each other, but everyone respected everyone and the whole school lived in harmony. I felt like I finally fitted in, I started making lots of friends and my life changed for the better.

In 11th grade, I finally told my friends about what had been happening for 3 years now. They knew about my previous problems at home and about my autism so they told me that they thought I'd been groomed by HWI. I didn't believed them at the time; HWI had been so nice to me and helped me through a lot in my life. Then I finally took a step back, and it hit me.

I never liked HWI. They were indeed very rude and manipulative, but they had something I loved so much that I'd become submissive to the point of believing that was normal, that it was the way to treat friends. They were 20 when I was 13. I thought it was ok at the time, until they started asking for fanart and favors in exchange for rp time, and pushing sexual rps onto me a lot. They would tell me that they were the only one who could understand me, that the rest of the world was just filled with evil corrupt people and I fucking believed in everything they said. They would bring down the mood of the whole chat with their negativity to the point other people started complaining about it. I remember having a breakdown mid-lunch break when it finally hit me. I'd been groomed.

But, thank goodness, this has a good ending. As I realized that I had to get out of this situation, I quickly came up with a plan. I had tried multiple times to go without said hyperfixation but I would always end up having panic attacks and just not feel well. So the plan was to try and get said character to my side and run off as quickly as I could. I knew they didn't liked the character at all and were just using it to control me so I knew I could do some kind of art trade with them and get the character. After a while of asking if I could have the character since they weren't using it anymore, they said they would give him to me in exchange of some fanart, demanding it to be very very good or either they would refuse to give the oc. I rushed to ibispaint, drew something I was dead sure they would like and sent it. And then it was done.

I stayed in the chat for some extra weeks as if trying to prove myself wrong; that HWI was a good person and this was all a big misunderstanding. But it wasn't. They continued being toxic and manipulative, but they didn't had anything to use against me now. I left the chat and a few months later the Amino as a whole.

So to anyone who finds themselves in a situation similar to this one, here's a piece if advice: get out of that shit as fast as you can. I know there are people who have it WAY worse than me, but I don't wish for anyone to go through something even remotely similar to what happened to me.

If you find yourself in a toxic relationship, get out of there as fast as you can. No matter how many lies they tell you, that no one else would love you or understand you, that only they can handle what you are; it's all bullshit. There are somany people out there who would protect you and fight for you with their life. Heck you find yourself with a toxic friend but are scared to leave them because they're your only friend? Hit me up! I'll gladly be your friend!

People deserve so much more than feeling like they're emotionally dependant on someone else. Self-love and self-worth were two of the best things that I learned to have since I left that toxic relationship, and everyone deserves to feel good and to be proud of themselves FOR themselves.

-

Wow this was... long XD so yeah. HWI is also on tumblr but don't go searching for them. I told them off and that's it. As the meme goes, the evil has been defeated XD I will be posting stuff with those two ocs since I'm kinda removing them from the BATIM fandom and making them kinda just their own thing. I still love them to pieces and want to draw them so so much!

So wow you've made it all the way down here? Have a snack you must be so tired 🍩🍪🍰🧁🥧🍫🍬🍭🧃