#critiques and pointing out mistakes and wishing for things to have been different is not a fucking direct attack

[stevethehairington]

really fucking sick and tired of people who really fucking love the eddie book jumping on people who don't like or are even remotely critical of it's posts and like crusading their opinions around from the top of their high horses and shoving it down our throats.

if you like the book, great! that's awesome! love that for you! i am genuinely glad that you were able to find good in it and enjoy it!!

but not everyone did, and not everyone is going to agree with you. so, instead of going on some grand crusade where you find every single post that includes anything even remotely negative or negative adjacent or even neutrally critical and spending ALL this time and effort trying to provide unwanted rebuttals to every single thing, maybe you should just stay in your lane and find people who DO like the book and chat about it with them.

because i can PROMISE YOU, none of us appreciate it when you come onto our posts and start accusing us of "hating on" the author or "being rude" about her and her work and RIDICULOUS shit like that.

being critical of something and pointing out it's flaws is NOT inherently hating on it. i, frankly, do not know where people got that notion, but it's not fucking true so can we fucking quit assuming it is? and, critiquing something is also NOT the same as saying this is shit and it sucks and the author is a piece of garbage. again, where the fuck that came from is beyond me. you can be critical of something and still enjoy it. as soooo many of you love to point out, it's not perfect, why should it be perfect? so D U H. of course that means criticism can and should arise???

also. hot take (by which i mean ice fucking cold because it's NOT a fucking hot take), but going around toting FALSE facts as part of your "defense" does not make you or your argument look good. you, like the author, should maybe do a basic fact check first. 🙃

tldr, if you like the book, that's genuinely great, but stay in your fucking lane and stop seeking out posts from people who didn't like it to start shit in the notes.

#flight of icarus #stranger things #this has happened to me and to so many of my friends and im fucking SICK of it #i didn't even hate the book either!! i thought it was just okay #and yet i STILL get all these book lovers jumping down my throat about things i say about the book #things that - HONESTLY are not even like that scathing!!!!! #like god damn all im asking for is a little BASIC effort from the author and they all think thats me asking for her head on a platter #its NOT #i have no problem with the author #she's whatever to me honestly just a vessel through which the book was given to us #ALSO she is some nebulous blob way outside my orbit. AS IN any critiques i have of her and her work are NOT direct assaults on her??? #like i dont fucking KNOW her #im not saying any of this to her face #she is a published writer she should KNOW the risks she is taking when she publishes her writing #not everyone is going to like it! there are going to be people who are critical of it! there are going to be people who hate it! #critiques and pointing out mistakes and wishing for things to have been different is not a fucking direct attack #those things are actually pretty fucking common responses to ANYTHING #and a lot of times theyre actually meant as useful helpful things geared towards improvement and not something to tear someone down with #some people on the internet need to go touch grass and learn how to CRITICALLY THINK again #the world is not as black and white as you think #n e ways. rant over. if you stuck around through all of that kudos to you. i am just. at the end of my rope with this bullshit.

[sshadowritestoriess]

Heya! I adore your characterisation of our best boy Ramattra, just absolute *chef kiss* <3

I'd love to see your take on human reader defending Rama in a fight and his reaction, he may be a powerful fighter with an army but even the best need back-up occasionally. 👀

Oh certainly :]

Reader Defending Ramattra

Ramattra was never against help from human hands, but he always thought himself wary of the presence of his human allies

And yet somehow, you had wormed your way into his right hand faster than he could realize— a human that’s become dear to him, though he’d rather be destroyed than admit that to you

In many battles, you fought at his side with ease. Your fighting styles blended well with one another, and he was more than thrilled to have such a reliable… associate

Through war he had developed a trust with you unlike most. He missed having someone to call a friend, someone he knew like the back of his servo, who he could go to for anything without worry

He outmatched you in just about everything, though. While he had unshakable faith in both your shared bond and your capabilities, he never thought to need to depend on you.

He was often used to covering for you in battle, blocking attacks on your six with a barrier or his nemesis form. He would scold you to be more mindful of your surroundings, though his critique was never harsh. You were strong, and even while he most often protected you, he never really worried

That was until he himself ended up rushed by the enemy, several men and drones took to herding him away from the group. He didn’t realize he was so far separated until he ended up knocked to his knees, looking for backup that was not there

For just a moment he was trapped in a state of cooldown, his systems needing time to refresh before he could safely activate another ability without causing harm to himself. But in this helpless moment he actually felt fear, his AI quickly building on this mistake— just as he was built to do. But there was no way to recover when he’d had several pulse rifles pointed toward his head from all sides

Genuinely, he thought that it was over. Yet he could not— he would not bring himself to say he would yield

And then you had appeared in a flash, and that was the moment he had worried for you. He thought immediately that, if he had been overwhelmed by a couple supersoldiers and EMP-charged drones, then you being here was nothing short of a death wish

But you had his back, as always. It was just a bit different this time.

For once, Ramattra was the protected. The element of surprise turned out to be your ultimate playing card, and he was able to charge the enemies before him while you took the ones from behind

He did not thank you for saving him, not right away, but you felt it in his voice after he chastised you to return to the group— as if he wasn’t any farther from them than you were. A coverup of hypocrisy for his gratitude, at least for the moment.

The rest of that fight wouldn’t go so smoothly, as Ramattra would be struggling to move on from your moment of defending him. It was like he couldn’t get away from you for the rest of the battle, making for rather clunky choreography

But once rendezvousing back at base, he would take you aside and praise your efforts, then apologize for his miscalculation

“You were able to correct my judgment. For that, I thank you.”

Definitely a prideful moment, especially considering he has probably saved you more times than you could count— and most times you probably didn’t even realize he’d protected you unless he mentioned it

And he’d know this, too, yet still feel indebted. But that’s another thing he’d never admit aloud

He’d never forget that moment. He’d never let it go— a ravager, being defended by a human. How entirely unheard of! And yet, here you were.

You were probably the one and only person that could make Ramattra believe, even if only for a second, that coexistence was possible.

And he’d make the extra certain to avoid mistakes while you were present, so in the event you need defend him once more, he’d never have that hope again.

#overwatch #overwatch2 #reader insert #ramattra #headcanons #ramattra x reader #fluff #platonic #ramattra overwatch #imagines

[who-is-page]

I'm going to be honest re:that ask I got last night. I am supremely unimpressed by the inaccurate and largely exaggerated call-out for Therian Territory and really wish my work with my Therian Guide Beware (even if it was an outdated version of it) hadn't inadvertently been dragged into it. Call my standards too high, but if you're going to publish a video on someone calling someone a zoophile and pedophile, then I need actual proof before I'm going to believe it. Not a timeline that doesn't really match up when double-checked, some sources that don't mention the accused at all or which lack citations entirely, and some actions that are critiqueable but ultimately fall into vastly different categories than what they're being portrayed by the accuser as (like how saying something inappropriate to a minor on a huge, public Discord server and then realizing their mistake and immediately deleting it is being called pedophilia. That's by definition not what pedophilia is and makes me assume that the person saying this is not a trustworthy or reliable source of information.)

Like... Fucking hell, I don't know. This community has actual missing stairs in it that we should be working to address, people who have done legitimately awful, terrible things and who have openly confessed to it. People who are continuing to do and advocate for animal abuse. Comparatively, based on the incredibly poorly constructed video that I've seen and the posts in connection to it, this whole thing with Therian Territory seems like a waste of time and energy. Are there criticisms to be made? I mean, probably, but the shit I've been seeing misses the mark way too often to even be remotely classifiable as legitimate criticisms. It's strayed almost entirely into the realm of bad faith arguments or arguments with sandy or even downright nonexistent foundations-- and don't get me started on the abysmal lack of any form of relevant evidence or research. Any potential legitimate points that they may have are washed away or unrecognizable amid the astounding flood of garbage that's being poured out.

People can and should be held to higher standards when doing call-outs. If someone isn't going to do them right, with evidence-based, harm-focused ideas that center citable actions and not theoretical thoughts, then they should not be doing them at all. This is not a revolutionary idea. 99.99% of call-outs I've seen are mostly dumpster fires, and considering how damaging and disproportionate these things can be, that's fundamentally not acceptable.

#long post

[azquine]

Can I get something on the JoanFK tag that ISN'T just complaining? It is ok to be feeling shit that things went badly in the show, but do you have to tag that negativity on the ship? The negativity is all that there is to see whenever I try to interact with the show and it's making me feel horrible.

I've been in far worse fandoms, and they didn't make me feel this bad.

It all feels so puritanical, like you have forgotten what a teen drama parody entails. Did you forget that they were ALL assholes in the first season who backstabbed and did shitty things to eachother for their own selfish gain? You are applying pretty strict rules of morality onto characters who intrinsically must break those rules to allow the narratives of their genre to move.

This was a short kiss, the result of feelings that JFK and Harriet had actively been trying to avoid for the sake of Joan. This could have been resolved by open communication, but that's not how either drama shows OR stupid hormonal teens work. After making this mistake, they did the most responsible and moral thing they could have and confessed it literally within the same episode as soon as Joan would not, you know, DIE as a result.

All things considered, it wasn't a secret relationship, it wasn't sex, it wasn't a long term secret held until it accidentally spills out and ruins everything. It could have been SO much worse, it was none of my worst fears, and I'm honestly relieved a kiss was where it stopped. And I am also really glad they confessed to quickly because I HATE liar revealed plots more than ANYTHING and I probably would have stopped watching. If they were going to do this plotline it was the best case scenario for me.

And do you know what is even better? What should be the bare minimum but is actually pretty rare in dramas from my experience? Neither of them tried to mitigate Joan's reaction, to say she was overreacting or to dance around the issue to make it sound better beyond a truthful 'we felt nothing'. Joan was allowed the space to fully process the information and her emotions, even if through a montage. And damn I wish I saw that more often.

As for those saying JFK would need a redemption for what he has done- does being open and honest about his wrongdoings not do that pretty succinctly? Beyond having not done it at all what else do you want? Pretty puritanical to want him to suffer before he can be forgiven.

And granted, Harriet got plenty of unjustified hate before she had even done anything, but post-kiss most of the discussion and anger I have seen has been directed solely at JFK. Harriet was part of that kiss too, knowingly going against her friend. Why is the romantic relationship deemed worse to betray? Both of them did a stupid thing together, and fixed it together.

And I'm not saying Joan putting all the consequence on Abe is justified, he didn't do shit wrong either, he tried to keep his friend alive in a tricky situation.

All of your feelings are valid, and I do see why the dominant opinion is what it is. Cheating is an awful thing to do and you should not be with someone you do not trust, I cannot refute that.

Yet at the same time, I felt it was important to put forward some differing points that I had been having. This show will not be enjoyable if we hold a position of being negative and moralistic. To some extent there has to be an acceptance that this is a fiction and moral failings are often part of a narrative structure.

(And while many of you have legitimate critiques on the execution of the show, it feels like some of you are taking the 'thing done badly because I don't like it' route)

I really hope nobody takes this as me trying to enforce cheating or to say that JFK and Harriet kissing was ok. It was shitty of them to do in the first place, but they are not morally irredeemable. Teen do stupid bad thing is not new. I'm also not interested in having an argument over this, I get caught up far too easily in that so I won't be answering any replies or asks. It is fine if you disagree, I'm here to propose a counterpoint.

Sorry if this was repetitive or lengthy. It just felt like I had to get it out there despite it being the early hours of the morning.

#clone high #joanfk #clone high jfk #clone high joan #rant #ramble

[threebooksoneplot]

Question for G :)) how was your fanauthor workshop experience? I don't know if I should apply it sounds interesting but at the same time almost no reviews or whatsoever. Thank you!

well I ended up doing it a second time, so I'd say it was pretty damn good! I think the reason there are "no reviews" is mostly due to tumblr's format not really lending itself to that? @fanauthorworkshop isn't marketing itself as a product so much as a pedagogical (educational) extension of the existing fandom gift economy—an exchange where you both learn stuff and share/teach stuff!

this answer is mildly off-podcast-topic and it's gonna get super long and wordy, so it's under a cut lol you're welcome

my Fanauthor Workshop experience

personally, I found the FAW perfect for me. I was at the point in my fic writing where I was getting some lovely comments and glowing praise, but also wishing the world in general took fanfiction more seriously, as a craft to be practiced and discussed, something with both intrinsic and literary merit. @bettsfic's first episode as a guest on Fansplaining really resonated with me and kind of spoke to that desire (it's a must-listen for anyone on the fence about applying to the FAW!!)

but I had never studied creative writing at a university level, and barely knew what a crit letter was. I found the FAW was the perfect way to learn that sort of thing in a low-stress environment! I didn't struggle with feelings of burdensome obligation the way I had with schoolwork; rather I was excited to read everyone else's writing and see what it had to teach me. I also loved having an appropriate venue to air all my writing opinions, lol. I found I was so motivated that I managed to attend every FAW session even though it conflicted with family vacations two years in a row. I wrote crit letters from the lobby of a restaurant in a national park because it was the only place with wifi. I even Zoomed into one session from a random public library in Durango, where I managed to alarm everyone else in the irl vicinity with my enthusiastic discussion of fictional cannibalism (shoutout to the story we workshopped that day, it SLAPPED.)

personally, I approached the FAW with the very specific goal of Having Fun first and letting the writing stuff come second (ie, not putting too much pressure on myself when it came to choosing and polishing my own workshop pieces, and not worrying too much about how they were received.) I still ended up getting some AMAZING critiques and responses to my two (very different) pieces—I was deeply impressed by everyone's insights, how much they were able to pick up on, and how willing they were to meet me at my level. the other pieces we workshopped ranged all over the place in technical ability, from "giohvnsksbnf this writing is so good I'm gonna fucking eat glass" to "this person is clearly just starting out as a writer, but even if their prose has some technical mistakes, their story has Good Bones and their critiques and discussion observations have been spot on."

my big secondary goal was to Make Friends and there I succeeded beyond my wildest dreams. I now have SO many cool FAW mutuals, a few of which I have hung out with IRL and the rest of which I totally WOULD hang out with IRL if given the opportunity. they're all uniquely creative and clever people who I probably wouldn't have met otherwise, so that's kind of the biggest Win for me. it's so cool knowing I have all these people I could DM out of the blue and be like "hey, would you mind looking over this short story/beta-ing this fic chapter?" and end up with some great insights. there's also an FAW Discord where anyone can kind of bring fandom- and writing-related questions to the floor, as well as share recs and self-promote projects (or in my case, recruit podcast guests who I know have been pre-screened for both their chill lack of pearl-clutching and their basic fiction-analyzing skills, lol.)

I would recommend the Fanauthor Workshop if:

you're a self-taught writer who's done most of your learning in the fanfiction space and you're curious about how writing is actually taught in academic settings

alternatively, you're a writer from an academic background who chafes at some of the more restrictive rules in traditional workshops/you're tired of the irl Guy in Your MFA -types who refuse to or can't engage with your work on its level

you're ok with doing some "homework" (writing two crit letters per week) on the honor system

you're down to read original work in a wide variety of genres/read fic from fandoms you're not in (maybe even fandoms/pairings/characters you don't personally like)

you like what you read in @oficmag

you wish fanfiction was taken more seriously as a craft

your favorite trad-published writers all seem to be workshop alumni (eg: I swear half of my favorite writers are Clarion grads)

you have work you'd like to publish and/or submit someday but you're not sure if it's ready/not sure where to start

you follow writing advice blogs or send them asks

you wish people would leave "concrit" (constructive criticism) on your fics

you wish people would leave concrit on your fics but you're worried they might be too mean or not "get" your work

you wish people would analyze your work and give critique without letting their personal value judgments get in the way (and you're ready to do the same in turn)

you worry your work is too niche, kinky, queer, romance-focused, or "weird" for a traditional workshop (note: but it doesn't have to be any of these things. people also workshopped gen and the equivalent of coffee shop AUs!)

you'd like to hear perspectives that don't come from cishet dudes

you enjoy Class Participation and discussions (or maybe you're no longer a student and miss that kind of thing!)

you think @bettsfic seems like a good teacher (spoiler: she REALLY is)

you like the idea of a creative writing class with no grades or possibility of "failure"

you'd like to meet people you probably wouldn't meet in any other setting, and make some cool friends from other fandoms

if even a couple of these bullet points sound like you, you'd probably get a lot out of the FAW!! I hope the next session of FAW-ers have a blast. I'll be lurkin the Discord rooting for y'all

#asks #fanauthor workshop #anonymous

[beatrice-otter]

I really enjoyed your definition of potluck fanfics. I intend to use it if the subject comes up here, or in any situation where people confuse fan fiction with paid, or classroom writing.

There is a difference. Damn! It's really a great definition!

Would you be willing to put it in a nutshell in your own words? I want to rebog it.

Thanks! I hope this term gains momentum. ♥♥♥

You’re welcome! Maybe something like this:

Whether critique is welcome or not depends on circumstances. Think of the difference between a cooking class and a potluck. If you are in a cooking class, and you make a dish, the teacher and the people in the class can and should offer thoughtful critique to help you learn. That’s the point of a class. But a potluck is not a class. If you bring a dish to a potluck, and someone critiques it there without you asking for their opinion, they’re being a jerk. The point of a potluck is not to improve your cooking skills, it’s to eat food together with other people.

In the same way, if you are in a writing class or seminar, critique is a good and useful thing. If you have a beta reader or editor and they critique your work, that is probably a good and useful thing. (As long as they understand what effect you’re going for, and aren’t operating from the premise that they wish it were a completely different fic than the one you want to tell.) But when you publish a fic, it’s like bringing a dish to a potluck. And criticizing it at that point is a dick move.

Now, I want to point out, that there is something a bit hypocritical about me saying this, because I have been that dick criticizing a fic at the potluck that is fandom. Sometimes it’s a small thing, sometimes it’s a big thing, but holy cow there are times when I have trouble holding my tongue and not saying anything. I am really good at finding reasons for myself that “yeah, it’s usually a dick move, but it’s justified in this case because _____.” It’s never true, no matter how much I want it to be true. And there are times I lose that battle with myself and show my ass by being a dick. I’m sorry, it was wrong and I knew it was wrong and I did it anyway. Please learn from my mistakes. Don’t be a dick.

[fictionadventurer]

I have been following your reading of Ruth with interest; when I read it myself the main impression was that of relentless misery. Certainly, characters were kind and nature was beautiful, but Ruth's life overall was too sad for me, even if it shone forth with her sweetness, innocence, generosity, and mercifulness.

With time I have come to a more... analytical approach if you will. I feel like The Problem With RuthTM is that Gaskell is serving on her plate more than she can chew. A good part of the story feels like an homage to The Tenant of Wildfell Hall, with the pointing out of double standards, the protection of children, forgiveness of those who made your life miserable, etc; but it is also trying to include commentary on single motherhood, religious hypocrisy, social cruelty... and that kind of corners her into writing Ruth, the fallen woman, as too angelic, too perfect, too innocent, all the time, and that gets a bit grating after a while. Even Fanny Price has her moments of jealousy or anger in her inner thoughts! It also corners her into... having to kill her off in the end? Even if it isn't a horrible death in disgrace, and she is an exalted character at the end of the story for her virtues, it still sort of carries the idea that she cannot "come back" from the mistake of her youth.

Ruth does become too good, and I wished that Gaskell had been able to show her as a more complicated character--would she have been worthy of redemption if she hadn't been perfectly good after she repented of her major sin?--but I was able to forgive it somewhat because Ruth is set up as innocent and trusting from the beginning, and Gaskell points out that her present-focused personality is both the source of her sin (not thinking about the consequences) and her later saintliness (letting go of the past and not thinking of herself). I didn't think it made her an annoying character, because that portion of the story was less about her and more about how other people react to her--here's a community that loves her because she seems perfect, so how does that change when they find out her deep, dark secret?

I don't think Gaskell was trying to do too much. I think the story's incredibly focused because everything centers around one theme: sin. How do we fall into it? How do we rationalize it? How do we hide it? How do we redeem ourselves from it? How do we judge others for it? Almost every character has to grapple directly with some major sin they commit and the fallout from it.

It's why I don't agree that this is at all a Tenant redux. Bronte was writing directly about gender and marriage and critiquing the societal structures surrounding both. Gaskell centers the story on Ruth's fall not to comment on gender or sex, but to explore sin, and this happens to be one of the most severely-judged sins in her society. Even if the surface situation seems similar--a woman pretending to be a widow to hide a shameful past--their realities and personalities are exact opposites, and the stories are exploring very different things.

As for the ending, I also heartily wish that Gaskell had come up with a happier ending for Ruth. I was so disappointed when I realized Gaskell was going with the expected cliche. However, I don't think Gaskell was trying to say there was no redemption for Ruth. She had been thoroughly redeemed in the eyes of the town. The death read to me as, "Well, the story has to end somewhere, and this provides the easiest ending point."

Actually, aside from my disappointment at the chosen path, I think this is one of Gaskell's best endings, because it's thematically and structurally coherent. Ruth going to care for Mr. Bellingham at the risk of her own life is a mirror to Mr. Bellingham abandoning her after his first illness. The first time, she was shut out from caring for him; the second time, she comes when no one else will dare. After his first illness, he proves that he doesn't love her by abandoning her for his own convenience; during the second, she proves what love truly is by coming at risk to her own life. (Also, the fact that the one servant who stayed with him was the boy he'd rescued from the river at their second meeting--my heart!). Ruth has retained her innocence and grown into someone courageous, while Bellingham with his worldly prosperity has magnified his faults and fallen deeper into sin. Ruth has become someone so selfless that she gives her own life, while Bellingham is so selfish that he expects to be commended for merely giving money to a child he's abandoned for twelve years. (Gentle Mr. Benson throwing him out of the house was almost enough to make me forgive the rest of the ending).

The callbacks and mirrors made for a much tighter ending than Gaskell usually manages--even if I was disappointed in the choice, it didn't come out of nowhere, the way, for instance, that some parts of Mary Barton do. It made it satisfying to me as an overall story, so I can forgive a lot of smaller flaws along the way.

#answered asks #elizabeth gaskell #ruth 1853 #thatscarletflycatcher

[opinated-user]

this is a lie. LO wasn't invested in "making alie work" or else she'd have listened to the bunch of people criticizing her nonsensical backstory, how her power made no sense or how she, as an author, failed to portray a black character with any of the care it actually deserves. alaina was just another rewriting of her fascist genocidal colonizer fantasies, another lord ryder in a different font, but all the same. she was always wish fulfillment, not an actual character, and we could see that because alaina was literally always whatever LO wanted at any given moment with no thought about how that affected the rest of her characterization. again, just to remind everyone, the people who started talking about how LO talking about black characters or black skin tone (not just alaina) came off as fetishistic were black people. her comments about how hunter, a character she despises in TOH, could have been "interesting" if only his skin tone was changed was the one who prompted that. then we also noticed that she made her version of rey feel instantly attracted only to black women. then we saw that all other POC, including women, through the entire SW universe got discarded for the sake of the black women she put in charge.

then we saw that on the very, very rare ocassions she talked about books, it was non fiction books wrote by black women (that she never talked about again ever since, so if she actually read them or she just googled the titles is anyone's guess). then we realise that despite trying to write a black woman, LO was completely unaware and uninterested into actually researching into common tropes to avoid and played straight into them. other people had to come to tell her she was doing that, but not before she was already using the race of her fictional character as a shield against any critique. then we noticed that while doing all of the above, she was still ignoring an actual afrolatina's opinions regarding afrolatina representation in TOH and instead hating on a fictional afrolatina character for failing to be the violent vengeful stereotype she wanted her to me. then she wrote her HR rewrite (where slavery of an entire species was still a thing) and she did it again, making another black woman to use torture curses with the same ease someone uses to flip a switch. showing that she didn't listen to any of the people criticizing it and wasn't actually interested in making it work. she just wanted another wish fulfillment fantasy through another character. look at the kind of art that LO shares on her blog that doesn't come from her friends or is directly related to SW. the majority are drawing of black women. a lot of this could have been nothing at all (someone can enjoy writing by black women or art depicting them with nothing but sincere appreciation), just a mistake to own up ("i misspoke, i didn't meant to say that black skin tone was inherently interesting") or fixed pretty easily (give alaina a consistent characterization, do actual research in tropes to avoid when writing black women, etc), but all of combined still wasn't painting a pretty picture. so instead of listening to anyone, especially the black people speaking out, LO doubled down, cried in stream and performatively yelled about how awful everyone is to her. effectively painting black people as her agressors, vultures and stalker. she, the light skinned person who never suffered any kind of racism in her life, was getting bullied by black people telling her that her fetishim made them uncomfortable. but the breaking point for LO finally letting alaina go? was when she started talking about how her sith empire was going to be, especially how the sith order was going to work, and everyone called it out for the terf utopia fantasy that it was. according to LO, on her sith empire everyone with any real authority was going to be sith lady. cis and trans women were most welcomed, which would have been good enough... until LO had to add about how a "sith lady" was allowed to stay if they stop identifying as a woman while in work. effectively erasing transmasc/non binary identities and forcing them to either be misgendered constantly or lost their jobs... without any recognition at all as to how bad this is. rather than recognizing the inherent gender essentialism/transphobia of this, that is when LO started making a show about how much she regrets making alaina. never adressing the transphobia and instead, as usual, making herself into the helpless victim of everyone else. i guess what i'm trying to say here... do not feel bad for LO. she had plenty of opportunities to make something worthwhile, something better than what she originally wrote, and she wasted it every time. nobody forced her to do anything. there's nothing to feel sorry about.

if anything, this only tell us that LO prefers to scrap a project entirely rather than listening to anyone about how to improve it.

#lily orchard

[autisticempathydaemon]

Have never done anything like this before but I wanted to participate because why not!

Hope I'm doing this right- this is for the RedactedAudio Match-up :)

1 - Ok so I have 2 song fixations, first one is "Used to the Darkness" by Des Rocs and the other is "Morning Coffee" by Chevy and Nalba

For Used to the Darkness the specific verse is the chorus, it's a bit long for tumblr but I'll give my reasoning. I've always loved this kind of rock because it reminds me of the 90s rebellion kind of era and this verse strikes me as 'society has forced me down by its standards and is leaving me in the dust because I've "made a mistake", but I'm going to fight because my life hasn't started yet and I'm too young to simply give up'. Every time I hear that chorus it gives me a second wind of sorts and reminds me to just keep going, to keep being stubborn and to keep being me unapologetically.

For Morning Coffee there is no specific line because I resonate with the whole song lol. I'm a very big coffee addict, like I need coffee or tea every day to make it feel right. The reason being is that it's a small comfort treat to help me feel better especially when some days just aren't the best and I need a pick me up to feel better, even if it's a little bit. I listen to this every morning on my commute and every afternoon on the way back home, it's such a big comfort song that I keep on repeat.

2 - 6! (subtype sp) 3 - I love a good video essay! My favourite ones are a bit niche but I especially love SovietWomble's essay about "The Forest" because it's a deep dive critique and explanation of what happens when lore is added to a game post-release and why it's so important to develop it as a whole rather than doing it in bits as it can be the difference of an amazing or completely underwhelming experience. As someone who writes for fun and loves to play games soley for the lore sometimes, I found it useful to develop and hone my skills in world-building and making my stories more coherent. Also because he did a face reveal at the end BUT THAT'S BESIDES THE POINT!

4 - Gosh I haven't talked about my imaginary friend in a bit, her face evades me but I remember she would always help me sleep or play with me when no one else did (so everyday basically). She always wore a yellow dress and had her hair up in pigtails. I never gave her a name because she never needed one, I just called her 'friend', I miss her

5 - Put on a redacted audio vid and fall asleep to that lmfao (usually a david vid)

6 - I honestly don't know what I'd change my name to, sometimes I just wish I didn't really have a name because my self identity fluctuates so much

7 - Favourite redacted audio, hm, tbh any of David's audios. I find myself always returning to one of his videos but I think I like his camping one the most, I cry every time but hearing the stories makes my heart so full and like I genuinely want to comfort him.

8 - Huxley maybe? I love his pairing with Damien but I've never really liked or gotten into his story much, might just be a me thing- but hey he's gay so that's fun

9 - RWBY! Specifically volumes 1-3 because they're so iconic, love the entire series though, I quote it a lot to myself.

10 - Guy, he's as much as a dumbass and gremlin as I am and I THRIVE off of the chaotic energy so much. Plus he can make me pizza while we hang out so that's fun!

11 - Memes, I will start quoting memes. Either that or "Which character would win in xyz situation? A or B?" 12 - 7-11 hot chocolate but instead of milk I put a latte in it

13 - Karu's "How To Train Your Dragon" orchestra cover playlist 14 - smutty audios... idk I just find it fun to scour for a good audio on reddit lmfao

15 - I'm very argumentative and will debate anyone on any topic (I've been a debater for years), but I'm also very much a people pleaser because I like to give people gifts and do acts of service. Uh- does a plushie addiction count as something that'll tell you who I am? I like dnd and Critical Role

Thank you!

Ooh, I love you; you gave me so much information to work with! There were a good amount of possibilities I was working with, but if you’re an argumentative Six, who else can I pair you with but Avior?

You’re both similar in a lot of ways- a love of debate, prone to Acts of Service, Type Sixes who are loyal, thoughtful, and reliable. It’s these similarities but also the differences that make me think you’d be compatible. Avior and his sarcastic, sharp nature would be good at keeping your people-pleasing chaos in check. Your love of storytelling and narratives would be new and so refreshing to him as he’s never put so much thought into fantasy and fiction. He learns to accept your gifts graciously because he wants you to be happy even though he’s not used to it.

Your life together would be so fun; you’d make his life so fun. Avior does not understand your plushie collection, but he tolerates it and comes to terms with their watching eyes every day because he loves you. He also doesn’t understand any of your memes either; he pretends he thinks they’re insipid and pointless, but he actually thinks they and you are cute and silly when you quote them. Also, you’re totally coffee/tea addicts together, and you’ve got the best stocked caffeine cupboards in all of Dahlia.

Song:

Just tea for two and two for tea/ Me for you and you for me alone/ Nobody near us/ To see us or hear us/ No friends or relations/ On weekend vacations/ We won't have it known, dear/ That we own a telephone (oh, I hate telephones) (yeah, me too)

I couldn’t help it; you gave me a coffee song, so I had to give you a tea song in return! I also like it for you, because it’s cute, it’s sweet, it’s singable. It’s not just about tea but love and being together, having tea side by side for the rest of your lives. It’s the kind of song you could sing at Avior, and he’d have to try really hard to not be charmed.

Runner-Ups:

If you’re a DnD fan, I’ve got to give you Lasko as a runner-up; my brain would not allow otherwise! The two of you could write together and be so cute. Asher is your other contender because you’re similar in a lot of ways that would be really fun but more in a platonic, best friend way than romantic like Avior.

note: thank you so much for waiting~! I hope you like your match-up!

Read this post and send me an ask if you’d like a match-up of your own! 💌

#redactedasmr #redactedverse #redacted asmr #redactedaudio #redacted audio #redacted #busybee matches

[golbrocklovely]

I get that both boys should be treated equally in regards to their mistakes.

But sometimes it reads like you really want Sam to suffer the same as Colby does. You always call out the differences between how people treat them in a way that reads like you want Sam to get the same level of hate and bad treatment thrown at him as well.

Why can't it be that you want Colby to receive the same treatment as Sam rather than that you want Sam to get on a level with Colby?

If you hate that it happens to Colby why are you wishing it to happen to Sam? Lets instead of attacking and hating on Sam because of his lack of bad treatment from the fans, attack and hate on the fans for not treating Colby with the same reverence they have for Sam and instead of encouraging them to bring Sam to Colby's level of harassment, try to encourage people to raise Colby to the level of respect given to Sam?

I'm sorry if this comes off as assholeish, I love your blog it's just so often you're responses on Colby's harassment read like you want Colby and Sam to switch places in the harassment boxes rather than actually wanting both of them to be well treated by their fans.

I myself don't want Sam to suffer the same treatment as Colby, but I do want Colby to receive the same treatment as Sam and to escape the harassment pit somehow.

i'm gonna try my best not to sound rude when i reply to you. please don't take anything i say in this to heart or as super mean. it's just been a long day and i've had this conversation a lot this past year, and i’m a bit tired of sounding redundant at this point.

of course, if i could choose between ppl hating on snc for dumb shit or them not getting hate at all, i would choose the latter. i would love to have a fandom that doesn't lose it's mind over silly, nonsensical shit. but reality is, that's never gonna happen. the next best thing that i can ask for: treat snc the same. keep the energy the same for both guys. so that means that if you critique colby for his love life, for example, then do the same to sam when he does something similar. but if you (not you specifically, but the general term of 'you') read that and think "well i don't want to hate on sam for no reason"…….. what exactly, then, are you doing to colby? just asking.

i mean, those that judge could also just not do it, but i'm probably asking for too much by saying that lol

one of the issues i've had with a lot of sam fans, that i've never quite put into words, is a lot of them want sam to get the same recognition as colby. and look, i get that. but i don't think you understand what that entails. that means the scrutiny, the hate, the nitpicking, the constant bombardment of comments for every single decision you make, the opinions about how you look, act, think. the death threats. all of that is included in being "loved" more.

and while i would love for sam to get recognized as much as colby AND not get hate, that's just not possible.

i've been on this site since 2019, and have been in the fandom since 2018. i've answered an metric ton of asks about snc. i've seen the levels to which ppl will go to criticize colby. i've seen the worst of it. i've blocked ppl bc of mean shit they've said about him, his appearance, ect. but i've also done the same for sam. they both get unnecessary hate. and in an ideal world, all of that would stop and they would only get love and positivity and all that good shit. but reality is, this fandom babies sam and doesn't allow any form of critique to be said about him, but barely thinks twice to do it to colby. all i'm asking is you keep the energy the same.

or… just stop hating altogether.

#ask #personal

[duhragonball]

Dragon Ball Super 019

Oh great, we’re doing Res F.

Okay, so this is often regarded as the low point of Dragon Ball Super, probably because of the same slipshod animation seen in the previous episodes, but this arc also has the hurdle of adapting Resurrection F, which wasn’t nearly as good as Battle of Gods.  Frankly, the plot of the BoG movie was the only thing going for Episodes 1-14, and here, Episodes 19-28 are trying to do the same task without that advantage. 

I wouldn’t call this the worst of Super.  My personal least favorite still lies ahead.  I’ll say two positives about this arc.

1) It’s nice and short.  At ten episodes, it doesn’t have time to be too offensive.  Then again, I might have said the same thing about GT’s Super 17 arc, but it was pretty vile when I rewatched it recently.

2) Resurrection F wasn’t great, but it wasn’t that bad, either.  It lacks the complexities of BoG, Broly, and Super Hero, but if you judge it by the standards of the 20th Century DBZ films, it holds up just fine.  One thing that works to the arc’s favor is that Res F doesn’t spend a lot of time on fluff, so there’s not like an episode and a half about a party, or pointless cuts to check in on Oolong or Ox King to see what they think about what’s happening.  And while I hate to say it, Frieza has the star power to drag both the movie and this arc out of the bottom tier. 

Having said all of that, I’ll repeat my critiques of the movie.   Bringing Frieza back was a mistake.  This franchise doesn’t do rogues’ galleries like Batman and Spider-Man, usually because the bad guys get killed once they lose. And I think Resurrection F pretty well illustrates why that is.  Frieza comes back, but he just makes all the same mistakes that got him killed the first time. 

Indeed, this story seems to be about Frieza’s utter refusal to change as a character.  The reason Broly was such a success was that they brought back the Broly concept, but retooled him into a more sympathetic character, one audiences could get emotionally invested in.  Super Hero saw the revival of the Red Ribbon Army, but that worked because it came back through new characters instead of re-hashing the old ones.  Commander Red is replaced with Magenta; Dr. Gero is succeeded by Dr. Hedo.  Carmine is the new Staff Officer Black.  The Gammas are the new androids, and Cell Max is the new Cell.  Everything is familiar, but different. 

In Resurrection F, the only real difference is that Frieza’s soldiers are weaker, and Frieza himself is a lot stronger.  But so what?  Frieza’s soldiers were always cannon fodder, especially compared to Frieza himself.  And the original conceit of Frieza was that he was the strongest being in the universe, so making him stronger doesn’t really change him as a person.  All it really does is re-calibrate him to the top of the power scale, and he was already at the top before.  And when he was on top, he still lost.  It raises the question: Why would anyone bother reviving him in the first place?  His enemies certainly don’t miss him, and even his most loyal henchmen have to accept that he lost, so what good is he?

To be fair, the movie at least tried to tackle that problem through their depiction of the Frieza Force.  Their commander, Sorbet, was a minor administrator during Frieza’s lifetime, but he’s spent the last eighteen years trying to keep the organization running, doing everything he can to hold on to their remaining territory.  It’s to his credit that he’s managed to keep the Force alive as long as he has, but it’s an exercise in futility.  In this episode, he’s informed that sixty percent of his troops have been lost, and the only sensible orders he can give are “retreat” and “withdraw”. 

The only way out he can see is to bring Frieza back with the Dragon Balls, which is literally wishful thinking.  He’s had teams working on this, but they can’t locate the Namekians’ new homeworld, so that’s not an option, and the only other set of Dragon Balls are on Earth, the home of the Super Saiyans who defeated Frieza in the first place.  It’s too dangerous, but Sorbet’s position has now become so desperate that he sees no alternative. 

And that’s what makes him so interesting to me, because Sorbet does have an alternative, but he refuses to see it.  He could dissolve the Frieza Force and accept defeat.  Much of their best talent have already left, because they understood that the Force was nothing without Frieza to back it up.  That’s how Sorbet wound up running things.  It’s not that he’s untalented or unfit for command, but the important thing that keeps him in charge is that he’s the only one left willing to do the job. 

This refusal to quit is both Sorbet’s greatest strength and flaw all rolled into one.  He’s capable enough to run this organization, but all he’s really done is delay its inevitable collapse.  A better leader would have enough vision to let the Frieza Force die, or at least repurpose it into something more productive, but Sorbet’s best bet is to try to turn back the clock and relive the good old days.  

So this makes Sorbet a pretty fascinating character, but this all gets overshadowed by his own plan.  Once Frieza returns, he barely matters, and he gets killed off unceremoniously during the final battle.  The big problem with Res F if that it brings up a lot of interesting themes-- failure, second chances, the futility of revenge-- but it refuses to explore any of them.

One other interesting idea was the way Sorbet’s crew don’t really understand what Frieza meant to the Frieza Force.   Either they’re too young to remember what it was like back then, or they were too far-removed from Frieza’s person to understand just how powerful he was.  Sorbet tries to explain it to them, accompanied by flashback of Frieza destroying Planet Vegeta, but he can’t communicate it with words.  He shows them a computer projection that says Frieza’s power would give them control over 70% of the known universe or something, but that doesn’t convince them much.  Tagoma just asks if the numbers are accurate.  In the end, Sorbet’s men are more accustomed to Sorbet as their leader.  For them, Frieza is just a legend, while Sorbet is the trusted commander working tirelessly for their cause. They only go along with his scheme because it was his idea.

So they go to Earth, but Sorbet insists on going in person, without Shisami or any other powerful warriors, since the Saiyans can sense power levels.  A guy like Shisami would give away what they’re doing.  Thanks to their spy drones, they track down the Pilaf Gang as they collect the Dragon Balls, then Sorbet and Tagoma swoop in to jump their claim. 

Basically, things play out like they did in the movie, except for two differences.  First, Shenron offers three wishes instead of just two.  I’m not sure what that means, but apparently someone thought it was important enough to add a third wish to this story for the second go-round.  Mai uses it to wish for gourmet ice cream. 

Second, Captain Ginyu is somehow there to bear witness to this event.  We’ll get to him later, but for now all that matters is that he’s a frog and he’s very interested in this development.

Meanwhile, Goku and Vegeta are off training on Beerus’ planet in their dumb Res F costumes.  Whis is so much faster than they are that he dodges all their attacks and even has time to write his name on their titties without them even noticing. 

Whis also takes a moment to discuss their weaknesses in battle.  He says Vegeta is too high-strung, and his inability to relax causes him to overthink during battle, which holds him back.  On the other hand, Goku is too relaxed, to the point where he gets overconfident and lets his guard down.  These aren’t new problems.  Goku nearly whizzed the 23rd World Tournament when he assumed Piccolo Junior was defeated, and then looked away during a ten count and gave Piccolo a chance to maim him with a ki blast.  Meanwhile, pretty much every decision Vegeta has ever done in this franchise has been clouded by his misplaced priorities.  He first invaded Earth to wish for immortality, but then he kept fighting long after victory and his prize were denied him.  He trained to defeat the androids and Cell, then kept passing up chances to win because he was more interested in getting bigger victories that never materialized.  I think his run as “Majin Vegeta” pretty much speaks for itself.

And while that makes for some interesting character analysis, the problem I have with this arc is that it spends more time on Goku and Vegeta’s development than on villains, who are sort of the focus of the movie.  There’s no exploration of Frieza’s character flaw, no quiet moment where Frieza realizes just how pointless life and death have become for him now.  The bad guys just show up to attack the Earth and die. 

Anyway, getting back to Frieza, Shenron can resurrect him, but he can’t restore his body, which was cut to pieces and vaporized by Trunks.  I’m not sure if this is because of the time that’s passed or the sheer extent of the damage Trunks did when he killed him.  Oh, wait, maybe it’s because of Frieza being a cyborg at the time?  Anyway, he comes back as chunks, but the Frieza Force has greatly improved their medical technology over the years, so they think they can stitch him back together, even when Shenron can’t.

And it works, which is kind of scary in itself.  Right before he died, the best his doctors could do was to rebuild him as a cyborg.  Now, they can put pieces of him in a tank of goop and regenerate his entire body.  I mean, part of this is owed to Frieza’s incredible resilience.  He survived getting cut in half (horizontally, anyway) and he survived multiple blasts from a Super Saiyan, and he survived Namek exploding in his face.  I’m not sure you could toss Guldo’s head in the modern medical machine and perform the same miracle on Guldo.   But still, this is a frightening level of advancement.  If Sorbet had been a smarter leader, he might have reorganized the Frieza Force into a network of hospitals, but no. 

Meanwhile, Goku’s spider-sense goes off, but he doesn’t know how or why.  “You don’t have a spider-sense, you idiot!” Vegeta tells him. 

#dragon ball #dragon ball super #2023dbapocryphaliveblog #goku #vegeta #sorbet #frieza #whis #tagoma #shisami #captain ginyu #emperor pilaf #mai #shu

[ladegaard59campbell]

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[eulchu]

LET'S TALK: DREAM AND THE DREAM STANS

PART 2: DREAM. TO THE ANTIS

so. let's be real. dream has made mistakes. he's been very stupid and very inexperienced in the past. that's something we all acknowledge. no surprise here, even dream himself does.

i'm not going to make this post to advocate for dream rights or talk about his growth as a person. there's plenty posts that talk about that. i'm sure i've made one or two. instead, i want to talk about something a little more... controversial.

see, i would be totally fine with the general internet making dream own up to his fuck ups (if only it wasn't so fucking repetitive. move on, people. this isn't celebrity.com talking about the possible haylor 10 year reunion, whatever the fuck that means). totally down, super dandy, if people wouldn't hold this guy on such different grounds to the rest of the internet.

let's talk now about the dehumanization of dream: dream, who was 20 when he started. who was terrified to lose the very thing he'd read books for, lost sleep over and studied to the very t to achieve. who hadn't had one PR class in his entire life. who woke up one day and found half the world had turned against him.

why is it that dream's side of things is never considered? no one is ever willing to put themselves in dream's situation, except his own fans, who get automatically dismissed for being dream stans. if we're gonna talk about dream's fuck ups, can we at least acknowledge the world's fuck ups with dream? the narrative has been pushed to extremes, to the point where dream, the very main character of his own controversies, feels like a passing trinket through his own array of hate comments and death threats. emotionless and inhumane. 2-dimensional.

comments like "the reasons to dislike dream continue to multiply" and "with big popularity is, of course, gonna come some hate" defy the whole point that many of those who critique dream are trying to make. how can you hang dream for 'enabling toxicity' by 'not doing enough' and then completely condone toxic actions sent his way? not in a completely direct way, maybe. they're not saying it's okay. they are, however, discussing it with a tone of normality that enables such behavior.

stans will claw your eyes out in an attempt to defend their celebrity, or if they think it will benefit them. these people though? their only purpose is to make him feel bad about himself. people make fun of him for saying "it's not my fans, it's people who hate me" because they think, okay, it's not their fans, but it HAS to be someone else's fans. because that's fandom logic. it's NOT. it's no one's fans. there's not one movement behind dream's antis, except their shared desire to see dream have a mental breakdown, or worse.

no one ever acknowledges this. it goes beyond fandom culture discussions. when i read the title of a video called 'how dream became a target' i was expecting to see a little more than just "stan culture was his downfall" because it wasn't. i wish the general commentators who do research to put out videos like this one would take one second to realize that this isn't about fandom culture. dream IS the target. not of stan failure. he's a genuine target crowned by thousands of people who have no connections to fandoms or fan culture.

it's genuinely scary to think that a 22 yo has to endure real and serious threats against his life for existing. this isn't some silly one direction stan who tells you to die because you didn't correct someone's name correctly. this is grown people who want to see dream dead no matter what he does and says, simply because their hatred runs THAT deep. completely unfounded. no one's ever fucking willing to talk about that. at this point i'm not sure any of them are even aware, or if they care enough.

what's with the double standard? people who praise themselves on having 'critical thinking skills' go and contradict themselves, displaying such a case of personal bias that is, frankly, embarrasing to read. i don't think we're asking for much. i don't think wanting dream to be treated like a human being is too much of a stretch. in fact, dehumanizing someone to that extent makes you far worse than anything dream's ever done.

#send this to tro lol #dreamwastaken #dwt #dream neg #<just in case bc it's upsetting lol #long post #cw discourse

[citydreamgrls]

a christmas treat

george weasley x fem!reader

words: 5,243

a/n: a very seasonal one for you,, hope you enjoy !! :)

warnings: swearing , smut , 18+ 

It had been a drunken mistake. A situation she should never have been in at all. But one final party before the summer break had caused that fateful moment she wished had never occurred. Y/n had been in the library all evening, in a lazy attempt to avoid the Gryffindor party altogether, but decided she would need to return to her dorm at some point.

She’d hoped that maybe they would have calmed a bit now that it was later in the night, but to her dismay the excited shouts sounded the second she reached the common room’s door. With one breath she slipped inside, wanting to pass by the group huddled by the fire unnoticed.

“Hey y/n?” A voice called out.. Her friend Angelina leant over the back of the sofa with a beer in hand and a smile on her face. “You joining us this time?”

“I’m pretty tired, but thanks.”

“Oh come on, you said that last time. It’s the end of term, just have one drink with us?” She pouted, but the girl held her ground and shook her head.

“I have to be up early tomorrow.”

“So do the rest of us!” Lee groaned, “Just stay for an hour then you can escape us again.” He joked. She took the bait, leaving her books on the table and slipping next to Angelina.

She noticed the twins, unfazed by their presence at any sort of party. But she’d never really paid much attention to them, at most times she could barely tell them apart. But with a few drinks in her system, and the need to sleep fading with each one, she noticed one of them in particular. George.

She studied his face subtly as it glowed beside the fire’s light. His was skinnier than Fred’s, with a slightly different jaw shape. His voice was deeper than his brother’s, and she noticed it more as he laughed with disregard for how loud it was and was always the one to start a joke. Then the mole, on the right side of his neck. That was the last thing she noticed before he caught her staring.

But he just did what he always would when someone looked too long, and winked carelessly. Then it was an internal battle not to blush like a child as she quickly looked anywhere but him.

He’d introduced himself not much later while she was pouring herself one last drink before heading up to bed. She’d almost choked at the sound of his voice, surprised that he was taking time to speak to her when he had a whole room of people at his command.

She was drunk, so was he. And she liked the way he smirked and leant down to her from his towering stance. Y/n let him take her ‘somewhere more private’ and fuck her.

That was it. But she reminded herself that he was drunk, so was she.

Nothing more.

So the next day she woke up earlier than the other’s and made her way down to the train alone, in case everyone knew what she’d let that tall redhead do to her the night before. But when they eventually joined her in the carriage, the only questions were about her rushing off so early.

Maybe he was embarrassed, she wondered as the castle went out of view and the lake came in. All that ran through her mind was him, everything she had done was fresh in her memories. So much so that she could barely remember herself being there, if it wasn’t for the hidden bruise he’d left on her shoulder she may have believed it was a dream.

He had felt like a dream.

But he was just drunk, maybe so much so that he had forgotten it all.

It seemed so when they returned after the summer, and he acted as though he’d never even met her that night. So her and the twins remained strangers.

At least until the Christmas break came around.

-

“I can’t believe they’re making you stay here,” Angelina huffed, often being the first to critique y/n’s muggle parents and their choices.

“It’s just a precaution, I’m fine with them. But when the rest of the family come round, all I want to do is hex them to oblivion.” She laughed.

“It’s wrong though, they’re scared of a witch who isn’t even permitted to do magic outside of the school!”

“It’s only a few weeks, plus I can start studying.”

“Oh good, get all the studying out of the way so we can actually have fun when I get back.” She grinned, snapping her case closed and looking round the room.

“Go, or you’ll miss the carriages.” The girl laughed and pushed her out the door.

“Please don’t spend the whole break alone? And write to me!” She called before rushing out of the common room.

Later that evening she finally did what Angelina had asked of her, both requests. But not quite by choice. She was sitting in the great hall having dinner, the handful of students that remained making it a very peaceful meal. Her hand alternated between eating, flicking the page of her book and writing to Angelina to tell her how boring it was going to be.

She wouldn’t have noticed the two boys in front of her if one of them hadn’t coughed to get her attention. Her eyes looked up, wide and caught off guard as they smiled back with the same face.

“Hello y/n” They said in unison, making it harder yet again to tell them apart.

“You've been left here too?” One of them spoke.

“I don’t mind it,” she said quietly, turning her head back to the book.

Her heart was racing, of course George would tell his brother about the party, she was dumb to think otherwise. But neither of them were letting on about it. Still, they knew her name. He must remember.

“I’m Fred,”

“And I’m George, the better looking one.” He winked, and she froze.

“You okay?” Fred asked, frowning at how she had stopped at the sight of George.

The girl just nodded, resuming her letter to Angelina.

Now it was confusing, she couldn’t tell whether they were pretending to be strangers. Or they actually believed they were. The twins stayed in front of y/n as she carried on her multiple tasks, they didn’t dare interrupt her until she finished her letter and sealed it in the envelope.

“You know we’re the only ones from our year staying here?” Fred told her.

“Oh right, how come you two are here?” She asked them.

“We were hungry,” George said, waving his fork in front of her.

“She means hogwarts you dimwit!” Fred slapped his brother on the head, making y/n giggle sweetly. She had always thought they were annoying, with their pranks and lack of care for anything. But seeing them tease one another, she realised they were in fact quite funny to be around.

“Mother said she’d had enough of cooking for us all, so we’re stuck here this christmas.” Fred explained, not seeming too bothered by his family’s neglect.

“Ron’s here too, and Ginny but I haven’t actually seen her yet.” George frowned, looking round to see if he could spot his little sister.

“Maybe she’s been eaten by that troll hagrid’s hiding in the woods,” Fred said calmly.

“That would be our luck, all mum told us to do was look after Ginny this year.” George groaned, rolling his eyes.

“Back up, a troll?” The girl asked, but both twins just nodded, as if this was known information. “Never mind.”

-

From then on they sat with her at every meal, always telling her about tricks they would play on the few remaining teachers at the castle. It was four days into the holidays when Fred and George asked her to hang out, a difference to the studying she’d been doing previously.

“We’re heading down to Hogsmeade later, you wanna come with us?”

“You know, seeing as there isn’t really anyone else for you to spend time with,” George had added. The girl still hadn’t figured out whether he remembered the summer party seeing as the only time she saw them was when they were together, but regardless she decided to take Angelina's advice and make some friends.

“Yeah sure,” She closed her book and finished her toast before standing up, “I’ll meet you guys in the common room then?”

-

It was snowing heavily and y/n was glad she’d put on an extra layer to walk to Hogsmeade, especially when the twins forced her to defend herself from an impromptu snowball fight. Even when she’d hit them both in the face they didn’t give up.

Being away from the castle felt much more fun, even more so with Fred and George taking turns to tease her. Which, surprisingly, she didn’t mind too much. It was never malicious with them, and if they gave it out it was only the rules that they took it too.

They spent the whole afternoon scouring the shops and drinking butterbeer until y/n’s legs felt like jelly and Fred had to give her a piggyback ride up the hill again. Not that he was very trustworthy after him and George raced to see who could drink a pint quicker, five rounds of it.

“Don’t fall asleep y/n,” George had warned as the girl’s head bounced lightly against his brother’s back. “Or Fred will dump you in the shrieking shack!” The girl pretended to be scared, but tried to reach out to push the boy away. Instead she fell off the side of her ride and brought him down with her.

All three of them burst into fits of laughter and spent the next 40 minutes drunkenly trying to complete the 15 minute walk back up to hogwarts. When they finally made it back to the common room, after dodging teachers in the hallway, they fell onto the sofa in front of the fire.

“Fuck, marry, kill…” George started, making y/n and Fred groan in fear of his next few words. “Snape, Lupin, Dumbledore.”

“I think this one might be for you y/n,” Fred laughed.

“Okay,” The girl thought for a second, “right, I would fuck Snape, Marry Lupin… I can’t kill dumbledore though. I’d be evil!”

“You’d FUCK SNAPE?” They cried out in unison, disgusted by her final decision.

“Yeah, I think he’d be a good fuck.” They nearly screamed at what she said. “What…” she laughed, “all that rage has to go somewhere,”

“Stop stop!” George begged, unable to listen any longer. But the girl liked how it bothered him.

“Anyway, I like a deep voice.” She, not really, joked.

Fred started up the hysterics, suddenly unable to stop picturing how Snape would look naked. Something he was not proud of.

“Oh don’t I know it,” George had said.

She hadn’t registered what he’d said, too busy laughing with them both still tipsy from their day in the village. But later on when she sobered up, y/n thought whether George was trying to hint that he did in fact remember everything.

Ron and Harry came down from their dorm room while the older three were still in fits.

“God what happened to you lot,” The twins’ younger brother had called out over the noise, “We can hear you from upstairs.”

“You’ll never guess what y/n said about Snape!” Fred had wheezed out, but was quickly muffled by the other two who decided that both Harry and Ron were too young to know about their game.

“What? I wanna know,” Ron had whined.

“Don’t be so nosy Ron.” George had teased.

“Fred was gonna tell me.” He pointed out, but George kept a tight cover on his twin’s mouth.

“He most definitely will not.”

The two of them left with slumped heads, admitting defeat, and Fred was freed from his temporary prison. He slapped both of his friend’s heads.

“What was that for?” y/n complained.

“I couldn’t breath you idiots.”

They couldn’t help but start laughing again, something which would recur throughout the day until they eventually sobered up before dinner.

-

Y/n came to terms with the twins and their drinking habits, as it was really the only thing to do to pass the time with so little people around. But when Fred and George were around they always had fun.

The girl watched them whizz about the empty quidditch pitch on their brooms, tossing a ball between themselves. She slipped the flask from her coat and took a sly sip of firewhiskey to keep herself warm. Normally she wouldn’t drink at all, not having done so since the dreaded party where she and George had- you know. But she decided she wanted to do whatever she felt like, it was a rarity.

George flew over, hovering in front of her as she hid the whiskey back in pocket.

“Sure you don’t want a ride?” He raised his eyebrows, he’d been trying to convince her to get on since she’d taken a seat on the stands.

“Not a chance, Weasley, neither you nor Fred are sober enough. I’m precious cargo.” She smiled. The boy’s hair was blown away from his face, held back by the amount of times he’d run his hand through it. She watched his brown eyes sparkle in the winter sun, and was reminded of why he had ever caught her attention in the first place.

“You wanna talk about sobriety eh? Empty your pockets then y/n.” Her stomach filled with butterflies at the sound of his voice speaking her name, but she did as he asked.

“I’ll let you have some if you stop trying to get me on that deathtrap.” The girl sighed and he nodded, taking the flask when she offered it out.

“Nice doing business with you,” He winked and flew off.

-

The next week went by quickly, and y/n had pretty much forgotten about her worries with George. And now, sooner than any of them had realised, it was Christmas eve. Both twins had burst into the girl’s dorm to drag her out of bed, throwing her around the room until she threatened to vomit on both of them.

“Hurry and get dressed or we’ll miss breakfast.” They called, leaving her dizzy in the middle of the room.

Fred discussed their plans for the day while y/n drank endless cups of coffee, not having the stomach for any food. Not to mention, George had been staring at her for the past 10 minutes, making her too nervous to move much. She much preferred it when she had something stronger to drink.

“I heard from Harry that Ron fancies Hermione,” Fred spoke up, no longer interested in our day's activities. That was very him, he would make a decision then immediately change his mind.

“Well that’s obvious,” George scoffed, having yet another bowl of cereal. She wondered how he could burn off all that he ate. “He’s looks at her with stupid puppy eyes,”

“You have stupid puppy eyes,” The girl joked, earning a look from the twin.

“Oh really?” He laughed. “You practically pout whenever you want something from us?”

“At least it works for me,” I winked, making George choke a bit.

Fred laughed, rarely seeing his brother flustered. They’d discussed crushes before in the past, but y/n had never come up before. He watched the two of them tease one another over the table and thought that they suited each other in reality. Plus, he had never seen George pay as much attention to a girl as he had y/n, even ones that he’d admitted to liking.

-

That evening had proved Fred’s theory right as they once again sat in front of the fire, the three of them sharing a bottle of y/n’s muggle alcohol. It burnt like hell and tasted like shit, but they had never gotten drunk quicker so decided it was the logical choice.

George had made sure that y/n was warm enough, without expressing too much concern for her that she would notice. Fred had to hide his smug smile as he watched his brother start to flirt shamelessly with their newest friend.

“What do you mean Hogwarts is scary,” He had laughed, “We’re the only things to be feared.” Fred had added.

“And now you’re one of us!”

“As much as that is a very sweet sentiment,” The girl stroked their heads jokingly, like dogs. “But it’s when it’s quiet, like now. My dorm’s just me, and I had the silence. It feels like someone’s always watching.”

“Aww little y/n’s scared.” George had teased, reaching down to tickle the smaller girl. She kicked and wriggled but he was bigger and stronger and could hold her down.

Those hands, holding her arms in place. It almost threw her straight back into the memory of them in secret passageway, him gripping her as he kissed her neck. If it hadn’t been for the tickling, the boys probably would have noticed her shiver at the reminder. But it was lost in their laughter.

It wasn’t long before Fred decided he would give his, slightly older, brother a chance to talk to y/n alone. So he overemphasised his drunken state and wobbled up to bed, leaving the pair by the fire.

-

They sat in silence for a while, George letting the girl curl into his side as they passed the bottle between them. She watched his hands play with the sofa’s arm nervously and giggled slightly.

“What?” He asked, feeling the need to whisper amongst the silence.

“Nothing,” She dismissed.

“I’ve had fun this holiday,” y/n admitted.

“We have too,” George told her, smiling down sweetly. His top lip curled up ever so slightly, making her blush again like she had done the first time he’d noticed her. “It’s been better than being at home really.” He laughed.

“My family are pretty boring,”

“Oh I can tell,” y/n glared up at him. “I’m kidding darling don’t worry.” Her stomach did multiple flips, not only at the nickname, but at the way he took the arm that was around her shoulder and stroked her cheek. In fact, he didn’t stop. It just became normal after a few seconds, as if he’d always shown her this kind of affection.

“Why didn’t you go home this year?” He asked y/n.

“My parents are muggles, as you know,” she raised the bottle with a gentle laugh “they don’t quite get magic.”

“Oh right,” he was truly invested in her as she spoke, taking in every word with genuine interest.

“They were worried I would let slip to the rest of the family when they came to stay, and well, they haven’t really told anyone else about me.” y/n felt ashamed to be telling George about her family in such a negative way.

“That’s a shame,”

“I don’t mind, they’re just careful people.”

“Still, they should be proud. Not everyone can be a witch,” He laughed.

“I’ve had more fun here anyways, so I won’t complain.” She leant her head on him for a few minutes, watching the flame from the fire disappear over time.

“Can I ask you something?” George suddenly said, making her stiffen up. She just nodded.

“Do you remember, before the summer break, there was a party here?” It was the moment she had been dreading ever since the night itself.

“Uh, yes I do actually.” she gave in, seeing no point in lying to him.

“And you can remember us going off to-”

“Yes George,” she cut him off, embarrassed that she had never mentioned it to him.

“I never told anyone about it,” He told her, making the girl relax ever so slightly. “I didn’t want to just in case you were embarrassed.”

“Thanks, I wasn’t embarrassed as such. Just more scared, that you’d think it was a mistake.” Admittedly she had felt the same, but only because she presumed he would’ve never gone for her had he been sober.

“Why would you think that?” He asked.

“Come on George, we’re different.” The boy had always appreciated how she said his name, and even now it made him giddy with happiness. “You’re friends with every Gryffindor, and they all adore you. I would much rather have my head in a book all day every day.”

“Unless me and Fred are involved.” He wasn’t wrong.

“Yeah well that’s different,”

“Different how?”

“You two are fun,” she admitted.

“And everyone else isn’t?” He smirked.

“You know what I mean, it’s just different.”

“Because of me and Fred? Or… just me?”

She watched his face as he studied hers, taking a deep breath as she rolled her eyes.

“You’re only saying all this because you’re drunk,” y/n scoffed, getting up to leave but he took her hand and kept her sat down.

“Maybe, but that doesn't mean I haven’t been thinking about it.”

His eyes were deep and made the girl’s heart tense as he spoke genuinely. “I thought you hated me after that party, so I just never bothered you. Until Fred decided to befriend you, and then I got to know you and realised why I introduced myself that night.”

“Because you wanted to fuck me?” She watched his face get closer but remained unfazed, refusing to move away from him.

“Of course, but also because you’re beautiful and quiet. Not to mention I’d had a thing for you ever since first year, but you were always in the library and I never got that chance to know you well enough.” He explained softly, their faces now dangerously close.

George glanced down at her lips and y/n couldn’t help but blush.

“I should go to bed,” She whispered, not moving closer or further away.

“Yes you should.” He pulled back with a smirk, seeing her finally let out a much needed breath of air. “Don’t get too creeped out tonight,” He teased as she stood up and walked round the back of the sofa leaning down to kiss the top of his head.

“Come keep me company then you fool,”

With that y/n left, her footsteps going up to her dorm and into the room. George waited exactly a minute after the door shut, counting the seconds one by one. It felt like a lifetime until he reached 60, but then he stood up and smiled to himself. He made his way up the tower, one step at a time to try and make her wait a tiny bit longer. Ignoring the fact that he had been wanting to have his way with y/n ever since that night all those months ago. Having her around had been a joy, but it made his desire grow every time she smiled at him with those lips he couldn’t forget the feeling of.

The lips he noticed first when he opened up the door, not bothering to knock. She was sitting on her bed, just a nightdress on, waiting for him.

“God you’re gorgeous.” He had groaned, promptly closing the door behind him and taking off his shirt.

Y/n struggled not to drag him down as he stood over her body, his abs completely mesmerising her. She knew quidditch was good for something.

“You gonna stand there all night?” She teased.

“No, I’m gonna fuck you like I’ve been wanting to all month.” This time she couldn’t help but gasp at how his words made her feel, her thighs clenching together as a reflex.

George pushed them apart as he climbed on top of her, pressing a leg between her own two. Making the girl moan out at his mercy.

“You’re desperate aren’t you?” She nodded, giving him those perfect eyes he’d been teasing her about only that morning. He dragged his fingers over her face, lifting her chin up so he could run them down her neck. This simple action antagonised the girl, who struggled not to beg for him with each finger slowly gripping her tighter.

Soon he was squeezing, making her moan out effortlessly.

“Hmmm, I love those noises baby.” She could barely hold herself back from pushing herself against his thigh, that remained propped between her legs. It felt like heaven to be touched by him again, and she kept her head held back in ecstasy.

“Please George,” she whispered to him, although there was no real need for them to stay quiet. He slowly moved his mouth to her ear, kissing below it and making her jolt with pleasure.

“What is it darling?”

“Please touch me,”

He took the hand from her neck and pushed her down flat onto the mattress.

“Strip” he demanded, watching her closely discard her nightdress and throw it to the ground. George let her eye him up as he took off his trousers, finally revealing the extent of his bulge as it pressed tight against his boxers.

Y/n could feel it against her pussy as he moved back on top of her, her neck being sucked hard by the boy. He loved the way she reacted to every touch, every finger that ghosted her body, and every kiss placed upon her. It all garnered a gentle moan. George wanted to hear it more and more, he felt entranced by her noises and internally begged for it to never stop.

He pushed himself against her pussy, rubbing slowly with no rhythm to catch her off guard, which god it did. Y/n was all his in that moment, letting herself be whatever George needed as he teased her to the edge. Her breath held as the boy took two fingers and ran them from her neck, freeing her from that euphoric feeling just to replace it with yet another as he slipped them between her folds. Y/n threw her head back, unable to control herself as he played around with her, slipping one finger in and out.

His other hand propped his body up, his biceps big and tensed near her head. She reached up and gripped his arm, moaning out as he pushed in yet another finger inside her, knuckle deep.

“You’re perfect darling,” He told her, “I would have given anything to hear these noises weeks ago.” His voice was deeper than usual, almost a growl as he removed himself from her completely. She whined slightly, making him smirk with how powerless she was.

George reached down to pull out his cock, causing the girl to yet again almost choke. She was amazed at how thick it was. She could feel it perfectly in her memory, but it had been a while and she’d never really gotten a chance to see it in all its glory.

But now there it was, thick and big and waiting to be thrusted inside her. She locked eyes with the boy towering over her body as he teased her with his tip.

“Please George,” She begged, “Please.” Her grip was back on his arm, tightening as he pushed inside. He was drunk on power as she begged for him, begged for him to fuck her even better than he had done months ago.

“Relax baby,” He whispered, pushing it all the way in. The sound that y/n made was nothing short of a scream, finally feeling him all the way in. Her pussy was dripping wet, and gripping onto George’s cock like it was going to be taken away.

The boy pounded into her like he’d been wanting to, ruthlessly and all the while he kept a hand tight around her neck. He thought about how good she made him feel, how small she was compared to him. He loved being able to throw her around and use her as he pleased. But most of all, he loved that she enjoyed it too.

“G-george, George I’m gonna-” Her pussy tightened, making George falter slightly but he didn’t dare stop when she was this tight. Instead he thrusted faster, an animalistic pace, making her scream so much louder than he’d ever heard. Then he felt himself get closer, just from the way her body reacted and he chased that high within her.

“Cum inside me, please.” She begged breathlessly, struggling to keep her eyes open. But when George finally let loose in her pussy, she couldn’t help but widen her eyes in the pleasure of it.

The boy fell to her side, his head resting on the pillow beside her as he caught his breath back slowly. She watched him brush his hair from his face and sigh happily.

“What are you looking at?” George asked, wrapping an arm around her naked body and rubbing his hand against her side.

“I just think you look very cute,” She giggled, high from the feeling of him.

“I fucked you like that, and you call me cute?” He huffed, half joking.

“I can do what I like now, you like me.” She teased him.

“Come on, I’m gonna get enough teasing from Fred when we tell him. I don’t need it from you too.” He groaned.

-

The next morning, Christmas day, the pair were rudely awoken from their pleasant sleep by Fred bursting into the room.

“I knew it! I could’ve bet good money on you two!” He shouted, shaking his brother as if he hadn’t already heard him come in.

Y/n groaned and rolled under the covers.

“Come on lazy get up,” Fred pulled George out of bed and onto the floor, groaning at his naked brother.

“Good thing you got George before me,” Y/n called out from beneath the covers.

“Get dressed you idiots, there’s presents downstairs let's go!” Fred ran off again, leaving his brother to pull on some clothes. He leant down to pull the covers from y/n’s face.

She felt him place a kiss on her cheek and she giggled at the cold air.

“You getting up?” He asked, passing her a jumper to pull on. She nodded silently, rubbing her head. “Hungover?”

“A little,” She blushed at his messy hair.

“I’ll carry you then,”

The girl put on some pajama shorts and held her arms out for George to lift her off the ground. He groaned happily and took her down to the common room to find Harry and Ron already opening gifts sent from Mrs Weasley. Ginny came racing down not long after, begging Fred to give over her presents.

“These ones are for you y/n,” Harry said when she was plonked on the sofa, warmed by the fire’s heat.

“Thanks Harry,” She looked down at the tag on the packages.

Hope you’ve had a good holiday darling, see you in the summer!

Y/n had spent the best holiday anyone could ask for with her two best friends, and couldn’t imagine having to leave them when the summer came around. She frowned, but the boy with his arm still on her waist saw the note before she could unwrap anything.

“You’ll have to come home with us next summer, not a chance am I letting your parents steal you away.” He joked, but his offer was sincere. She never had to worry about George hiding her away like her parents had done.

#george wealsey x reader #george weasley #fred weasley #fred and goerge weasley #weasley twins #weasley #weasley family #smut #harry potter smut #weasley smut #george weasley smut #harry potter #christmas #seasonal #hogwarts

[showrunnerihardlyknowher]

Okay but imagine a fantasy!au with a fairy!Jacob and Edix,whose still a catboy because he’s perfect the way he is.

Fairy!Jacob would have gotten separated from his nomadic village somehow,and after searching through the forest for a few hours,Jacob feels a pair of eyes watching him from somewhere,and the forest is too quiet for it to be his friends and family.After flying blindly to avoid whatever is stalking him,a giant figure appears out of nowhere and grabs him out of the air.

Edix stares at the flying thing in his hands that had really set off his hunting instincts and notices that it’s not a bird,but a (surprisingly cute) tiny man,with a pair of insect wings that were definitely not supposed to be bent and folded like that.

oh yeah, let's answer this prompt, she said to herself, it'll be a nice easy ficlet to tide me over until i can start working on my november schedule again!

7.3K words and 14 pages later, finished at 12:36am

--

Well, Jacob was fucked.

Although, to be fair, when wasn’t he? The fuckage typically ranged from being mildly inconvenienced when the magic he was trying to practice fizzled away mid spell to being royally screwed when he had caught the ire of a woodland creature who saw fit to corner him with its blunt teeth bared. Usually, he was always able to count on someone else intervening just in the nick of time to save his hide, though not without complaints. They varied from light jabs to icy glares depending on who had to clean up his mess. It wasn’t his fault that even now, nearly two decades later, he was still...well, awful at magic! That was the consequence of stealing a human away to be replaced with a changeling, even if the swap occurred during infancy. A human was still a human and no amount of spell casting and magical binding would change the fact that the species was wholly inept at being able to properly channel the mystical energies that came naturally to fae.

Nature versus nurture, Camellia had told him once, just because it’s harder to learn for you doesn’t make it impossible!

Granted, she was the very same fae who loved to watch him bumbling along through a spell until it ended in disaster before pointing out the obvious mistake he made twenty minutes prior, so perhaps she wasn’t the best influence to rely on. In the same vein, she was also one of the few fae who put up with his nonsense on a near daily basis with no complaint. He needed to be grateful for who he had in his very limited inner circle of support, which was a whopping number of two. Cam critiqued and ultimately taught through hands-on mistakes, but Angie defended him when others grew too irritated by his incompetence. Being a stolen child herself, it was a feeling she could relate to, the difference being she learned early on that a hex wouldn’t be able to hold any power over her if the speaker had all their teeth knocked out by her sucker punch prior.

And right now, Jacob was really, really wishing he had one of them here with him now...wherever “here” was.

It had been a stupid training exercise and he knew it was a stupid training exercise, but did he do it anyways? Yes, because he was a people pleaser and was way too eager to help when another fae foolishly asked him for help. It was a relatively simple task for any experienced fae, but for Jacob it might as well have been a suicide mission. It required him to fly deep within the forest, unaccompanied, and gather a small amount of material before navigating back to the colony.

The first issue arose with the fact that Jacob had zero sense of direction, trees and wildlife blending together whereas Cam was able to pick out every individual tree he would have passed eight times. The second was that he needed to go alone, which meant not only did he not have someone else to act as his navigator, it meant he also did not have anyone to act as his babysitter for lack of better words. He was easy prey, as he had been told many times over, both to animals and nefarious hunters. But he had simply been so blindly excited at the chance to prove himself as just a little bit useful to the colony, he was willing to ignore these pitfalls.

Even more surprisingly, the task was finished without a single mishap on Jacob’s part! It was a damn miracle, even taking himself by surprise with his lack of stupid mistakes. He had taken every precaution he could think of: he tagged the trees with a shimmering dust as a way to lead him back home, he ingrained every detail of every colorful plant he saw to ensure he would recognize it if he someone got off the path, he mentally chanted his list of materials so he wouldn’t forget a single one, even going so far as bring a remembrance charm to reference what each material looked like so that he didn’t grab the wrong one by accident. It was a pain in the ass, but it was foolproof, and it worked!

Unfortunately, he didn’t account for the afternoon storm that rolled in unannounced just after he had finished his collecting. Well, that wasn’t true, the storm had been hanging heavy in the air in the hours it took Jacob to find the exact location he was meant to do his foraging and subsequent gathering, it just wasn’t until he was ready to turn tail did it decide to unleash its fury. Had he been skilled enough to feel the static charging through the sky, he might have been able to redirect its path just enough to stay dry on the way home, holding off most of the drizzle until he was back in the burrow. But he wasn’t, so he didn’t, and as a result the storm came hard and heavy, leaving him little time to seek temporary shelter before he was thoroughly soaked.

He wasn’t stupid enough to attempt to fly through a thunderstorm, the heat of the summer making it twice as dangerous with the threat of lightening hanging overhead. The fat raindrops would have easily battered his body in bruises with how aggressive they poured down, a mistake he’s admittedly made several times throughout his life. Wings dampened with constant rainfall never would have been able to hold him up the entire trip home, regardless. Essentially, he would have been pelted into the muddy forest floor and risk being washed away or trampled by hurrying creatures also seeking shelter.

This was fine, though. No biggie. He had been able to stay dry enough in the tree knot he flitted into and the materials he had worked so hard to gather were still intact. As soon as the rain cleared, he could continue on his way.

Except when the rain did clear over two hours later, so had everything Jacob was relying on as unofficial breadcrumbs. The wind and rain had effectively washed away any trace of the glittering markers he used on the trees, not that he was sure they’d be much help at this point with the overcast still darkening the sky. The flowers he had so carefully memorized were also not as they had been this morning, soggy and dropping with various amounts of leaves and petals blown off in the storm. He tried his best to keep the sinking feeling of anxiety at bay as much as he could in these circumstances, but he knew it was a moot point. Even if it should have been a straight shot right back to his colony, he had no idea which direction that path actually pointed. Maybe if he hadn’t darted around like a nectar-drunk hummingbird while trying to avoid taking any serious damage in the beginnings of the storm, he might have remembered which orientation he was originally facing to be able to backtrack.

Which left Jacob here, more or less stranded in an unfamiliar part of the forest with no aid as far as he could tell. He had been out alone before, but never this far, just the same as he had been out equally as far with company, but never alone. This created a very unfortunate circumstance given that he didn’t know if it was better to stay put or attempt to venture back home, each with equal pros and cons in his mind. In the end, he decided to brave the trek back to the safety of his colony while he still had dimming sunlight to spare, hoping beyond hope maybe to unlock some dormant magic within him that suddenly granted him the ability to locate the magic radiating from the burrow.

So far, he wasn’t doing splendidly, and as the sun began to lower even beyond the clouds, he felt his resolve following suit. He was exhausted from flying non stop, but resting was too dangerous should he risk wasting any more precious sunlight. Every now and then he would call out, both to the colony in general or to Cam and Angie, in the hopes someone would hear his cries. When the skittering of critters and hooting of owls started to become more frequent, however, he thought it best to stop lest he attract the attention of something nocturnal and hungry. His only remaining hope now was that perhaps someone was already out searching for him as well given how long it’s been since he left on the task, even if he hadn’t been delayed by the storm. If nothing else, surely his friends were worried for his safety knowing his tendency to do poorly when it came to severe weather and directions. They wouldn’t trust him on his own, would they? He certainly didn’t.

The cold realization that no one might be searching for him made his heart sink further. Yeah, he was kind of a pain in the grand scheme of things, but he technically belonged to the colony as part of their changeling swap. They wouldn’t just leave him, right? They wouldn’t have purposely led him astray, right? No. He was getting too deep in his own anxieties again, thinking only of the worse instead of the facts. Like the fact that he was absolutely, without a doubt, lost in the muddy woods with no help. That was plenty about to worry on its own, no need to drag his self worth down with it.

Taking a deep breath, Jacob tried to steady his nerves while taking another turn past a tree he was only vaguely certain he passed once before (but was it because he passed it going in circles, or did he pass it when he left the colony? Was he potentially getting close?) yet no matter how hard he tried to calm his heart, it continued to speed up. Occasionally, the hairs on the back of his neck would send a prickle down his spine, and every time he turned around he would be met with neverending trees on a soggy landscape. Maybe...that was a good thing. Maybe it meant he was finally starting to sense something. What was he sensing, Jacob hadn’t the faintest idea, but he was certain by the twist in his gut that it wasn’t good.

So when he turned around for the seventh time to get a read on what was making his instincts go haywire, he knew the eyes shining back at him from the treeline was not something he wanted to fuck around with.

The surprise to see them at all was enough of a fright on its own, but to now have the knowledge he was locked in something’s sight made his blood run cold. They weren’t yellow like an owl’s or any bird of prey he knew, instead a rich green like a field twinkling with morning dew. It was a pretty color, admittedly, only it was a shame Jacob didn’t stick around to admire them as he turned around with a yelp to fly as far and as fast as he could in the opposite direction of those eyes. Much to his dismay, his seeker decided to follow in pursuit, at least that’s what he was assuming based on the sound of foliage crunching behind him at an alarming frequency. He zigged and zagged wildly as one of the survival techniques that had been drilled into his head since he was a child, a good way to avoid any lunging nets or mouths. In the back of his mind, he knew he was only hurting his chances of finding a somewhat straight path home with his unruly changes in direction, but that was a problem for future Jacob. Current Jacob was too busy flying for his fucking life to be bothered by the schematics of how he would return to the burrow after his escape.

As it turned out, future Jacob would never need to worry about what to do post escape as nimble digits were quick to surround him, crushing him against a warm palm as they closed him into a fist. He cried out, more so because the action squeezed out all the air in his lungs. The burning in his throat was not helped by the rush of bile he swallowed back down, trying to gulp in as much air as possible given the constraints against his hammering chest. Naturally, he tried to squirm within the hold, but he was quick to realize the hand that had snagged him refused to budge under his tiny struggles. With his arms pinned to his sides and his vision still clearing, he was powerless as the being pulled its limb back to turn him around and force him to face his assailant.

And of course, of fucking course, it had to be a cat.

Not a normal cat either, because that would be too easy, but a cat...person? He wasn’t really sure of the term they used, namely because he didn’t know much about them beyond that they were the combination of two very dangerous species and should be avoided at all cost. Granted, there were many dangerous species that should be avoided at all costs when you only stood the height of a frog and flew around like an insect, but at least fae had the advantage of magic and trickery on their side. Most fae, anyways. Not Jacob.

It was a little unnerving to watch as the slitted pupil in those emerald eyes expanded back to a larger width as the cat looked him over. It...they? he? would have been quite nice to look at from a safe distance far, far out of reach, the sharp features of lean muscles contrasting nicely to the soft, dark curls that framed his face, but it was the expression that was resting on said face that made Jacob tremble twice as bad. It was blank, totally void of any readable emotion he could have tried to use to his advantage to weasel his way out of this. The cat didn’t look happy, or annoyed, or hungry (as far as he could tell hopefully), just...unimpressed. He wasn’t even sure he caught the subtle changes of him quirking an eyebrow and tilting his head a fraction to the left as it continued to give his shaking form another glance.

“You’re not a bird,” the other said.

Yes. That was correct. Jacob was very much not a bird which cats were known to love to chase and hunt and kill and eat. Therefore, Jacob should not be subjected to any of those things, thank you.

It took a few attempts to make his throat constrict in a way that made the appropriate noises he wanted, but eventually he was able to squeak out his own affirmation. “N-no, I’m...I’m not.”

The cat hummed and Jacob felt his world skew in several dizzying directions as he rotated his hand around to a full look at every visible part of him that wasn’t concealed by his hand. The tan skin felt unnaturally hot, overheating his own clammy touch quickly which only served to worsen the nausea forced upon him. He wanted to shout out at him to stop before he lost the battle of keeping down the bile that still burned in his stomach, but thankfully the other did before he had to fight to speak up.

“Why are you out here? I thought fairies didn’t bode well in storms,” he said, seeming to finally have his fill of scrutinizing every detail of Jacob’s miniature stature. For now.

He gulped. Now that he was back to an upright orientation, he found it difficult to maintain eye contact with someone so intimidating. He could typically handle it in social interactions, even if he was being chewed out by someone for destroying half of their flower bed by accident. This was an entirely different ballpark, not only being glared down at by someone ten times his size, but someone who quite literally held his life in his hand. One wrong move, one wrong answer, and Jacob could be hacking up entrails as opposed to casting anymore spells. The mental image of choking on his own intestines as they were forced into his throat by a mere squeeze was enough to dash any bright idea of lying to get out of the situation faster. If he satisfied the cat’s insistent curiosity, maybe it would let him go.

“We don’t, I-I don’t,” he mended, not wanting to endanger anybody from poorly phrased words. Fae might be clever with their tricky bindings hidden in simple statements, but Jacob was never quick witted enough to catch someone in a contract on the fly. He wriggled his shoulders again as best as he could, uncomfortable beyond belief. “I-I was just running an...an errand. F-for a friend. I’m t-trying to get home if y-you could please let me...go?”

The last word of his request was a pitiful squeak, but he hoped the message was clear that he truly and honestly just wanted to go home. Nothing wicked or scheming, just a stupid, lost boy. The cat only furrowed his brow in response which made Jacob’s heart stutter.

“There’s no fae clans around here. Where exactly is your home?” he asked.

Oh no, Jacob was definitely not giving that information. Catching a fae could already grant a person a small fortune of power if done right, the possibilities were endless with a whole colony enslaved to a single master.

“That...is n-none of your concern,” Jacob forced out, trying to sound firm with conviction, though his eye contact still wavered with uncertainty.

Mercifully, the cat did not seem put off by his attempt at authority. Perhaps the other already knew it held all the power here and that Jacob was utterly screwed, because it tried a new tactic instead.

“What’s your name?”

“You can’t have it,” he was quick to bite out. Now that was a trick he was plenty familiar with, one he wouldn’t let the other try to turn against him.

The cat only rolled his eyes. “It was just a question, goodness. My name is Edix, because I’m polite and like to give people the ability to call me something.”

Well now it was Jacob’s turn to give him an incrediously expression because who in the fuck willingly gives up their name to fae!? Then again, it could be a fake name, a nickname even, but Jacob didn’t feel too confident betting solely on that fact. He was not going to be deterred against this potential slip up, not even to counter the unsaid insult that Jacob was being what was considered rude to the other.

“Let me go, Edix,” he said again, his voice coming out surprisingly strong. It was amazing what adrenaline will do to the nerves when they physically cannot move under the cat’s oppressive grip.

He appeared to consider this. “If I let you go, will you fly away?”

Fucking obviously. “...no,” Jacob lied. Edix wanted something from him, evidently, enough that he wanted the fae to stay longer than Jacob wanted to. After a moment of a silent stare off, one that Jacob felt himself on the verge of losing if those unblinking eyes didn’t stop trying to glare into his very soul, the grip around him slacked and the wrist tilted back so that he was partly laying down in an open hand. Open was still open anyhow, and without hesitation, Jacob sprang up and leapt off the palm with his wings flittering at mach seven to get him the hell out of here before the cat pounced on him again.

Except, the strangest thing happened. Rather than shooting straight ahead and disappearing into the treeline, hopefully camouflaging himself amongst the shrubbery with his green long sleeve shirt and brown pants, he instead felt himself continue to drop down to the ground. The speed from the freefall alone made his stomach flip uncomfortably, but the added fact that no matter how hard he buzzed his wings that he couldn’t go up, made every muscle clench with fear. The ground was rapidly approaching now and Jacob tried to flap his wings with all his might, the one thing he could do right by fae standards. With nothing else to keep him afloat, all he could do was brace for the brutal impact with the mud below, wondering if he would splatter upon landing or if the softened ground would allow him to lie in agony until the cat decided to finish him off.

With an oomph, Jacob found that he had, in fact, not crashed into anything cold or wet or bone crushing. The wind was still knocked out of him once again, enough that the sudden rush of going up like he had originally wanted had little effect as he gasped deeply for a second time. The surface under him was soft and burning to the touch, an all too familiar hold he had escaped a moment prior. Perhaps he should revisit the idea that this new ground wasn’t bone crushing like he had thought…

“Shit…” he heard Edix mutter, his voice rumbling around him just as the thunder had earlier in the day. Jacob screwed his eyes shut tight and tried to hold back as much as a whimper as he could, though it still slipped out. He fucked up. He didn’t know how he fucked up this bad, but there was no getting out of the mess he created now. Due to the angle of his fall, he was laying flat on his stomach with his back facing the cat, a stupid decision in the obvious predator and prey dynamic they had between them, but not one that he felt he had the strength to correct at this given moment. His stomach still hurt from the impact even if it had been softened, diaphragm sending an ache through his core with each labored breath.

A pressure settled between his shoulder blades and Jacob tensed, another whine caught in his throat that sneaked out when he grit his teeth. He could only assume the weight was from a finger pressing down along his spine, holding back the strength it would barely need to exert to completely paralyze him from the neck down. Or, he realized with sickening hyperawareness at the claws adorning the tip of each digit lightly caging him in, one quick swipe down his flesh could easily have the whole column exposed, ready to be plucked out like a stubborn splinter.

“Sh-sh-sh, it’s okay, just don’t move,” Edix crooned and Jacob listened, if only to prevent his death from being any more gruesome than it needed to be. After all, what else could the cat have in store for him? He didn’t give him his name, he didn’t tell him where the colony was, he lied and tried to flee, of course the other was going to put him through hell for those transgressions. Furthermore, he was still a cat, hybrid or not, and cats have always been well known to play with their food.

Jacob couldn’t help it though when he felt the touch move off of his back and towards the base of his left wing, the light touch of his nail sending a tingle sensation through his entire being. His eyes snapped open and with a yelp, he jolted to push himself up and far away as he could physically manage. Sadly for him, that wasn’t very far given the wobbling of his arms. “Wh-what are you doing!?” He gasped.

His sudden movement shook the finger away from his wing thankfully, but only a second later it returned to trace along the delicate film. “I’m just looking at your wing, it’s okay.”

It was not okay. Jacob was not okay with that idea in the slightest. He understood now what the other was trying to do; he wanted to rip off his wings for...one reason or another. To prolong his suffering, maybe, or to use them as ingredients in an unethical potion. There were several reasons people liked to rip off the wings of fairies, much like any other flying creature. Because they were pretty to display, because they were useful in a spell, because it hindered any escape. No way, he refused to let himself be subjected to such a fate, not when his wings were the only thing he truly had to tie him to his fae culture. He may not be able to grow a sapling to save his life, but he loved to fly!

“N-no, no! Let go!” he started to flail his thin limbs in an effort to gain some footing against the shifting hand trying to ensnare him again, “Let go! D-don’t take my wings!”

The poor little fae was roughly pushed back down against Edix’s palm again, the thumb of the same hand moving to curve over him and settling squarely against his back just as the finger had done previously. He was immobilized in a matter of seconds, unable to turn himself over or wiggle out from under the digit. With a strangled sobb, he focused all of his strength into his arms to push against the hold and be able to sit up, but naturally, it failed to make the other budge an inch. He let his arms crash down around him and dug his nails into the thick skin of Edix’s hand in an attempt to draw blood and make him let go through stinging pain. That, too, had zero effect, much to Jacob’s dismay.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Edix tried to soothe again while rubbing the thumb that pinned him down back and forth, “I’m not going to take them. I’m just trying to help.”

“Let me go…” Jacob sobbed again, letting the tears that had been steadily clouding his vision run down his cheeks. This would be the perfect time for Angie or Cam or the entire colony to come bursting from the trees to rescue him, any minute now. Please.

The strange touch returned to stroke against his wing, tracing near the sensitive base of where skin met dazzling chiten before thinning out into slender, translucent dragonfly wings. It was an unpleasant feeling only in the sense that Jacob hated the anticipation of what was going to happen to his beloved wings, though the touch itself wasn’t outright painful.

“Does that hurt?”

Jacob didn’t respond, opting to clamp down on his tongue to prevent egging the cat on in his search for validation. He didn’t want to lie again and risk any more punishment that was coming to him, but he also didn’t want to prompt him into upping his tactics to inflict actual damage. His silence was only met with more rubbing against his back.

“C’mon, honey,” Edix cooed encouragingly and Jacob tried not to heave at the sugary sweet nickname, “I’m not trying to hurt you, I need to know if touching your wing causes pain.”

He didn’t trust his voice to be anything but a choked cry should he open his mouth, so Jacob reluctantly settled for shaking his head once. Well, if he was going to lose his wings anyways, at least it wouldn’t be too painful of a procedure anyways depending on how deeply Edix tried to yank them out. Jacob just wanted this whole ordeal to be over, mutilation or none. The faster this was over, the faster he could get on with his next life that might reincarnate him into an actual fae.

“Really? You can’t feel anything?” If he wasn’t mistaken, it almost sounded like there was a hint of concern in Edix’s words. Probably because it meant he wouldn’t be able to have all the fun he was originally planning.

“I...I,” Jacob hiccuped, sniffling down a few more cries before they could tumble out, “I c-can...I can f-feel i-it.”

“But it doesn’t hurt.” The cat confirmed with a sigh and Jacob nodded. “Okay, that’s good, I guess. It means they’re not broken too badly then.”

“Br...broken?”

Jacob had no idea what Edix was talking about. Nothing felt broken. He fluttered his wings experimentally, though they weren’t able to full touch with Edix’s thumb between his shoulders. He tried to turn his head, eyes shining with tears that had come to a stop in his perplexion. Given the angle and the cat’s refusal to let him turn around fully, he wasn’t able to see his wings from where they were blocked from view no matter how hard he tried to splay them out.

“What d-do you mean?” he asked. “Wh-what’s broken?”

He glanced up, barely catching Edix’s expression out of her peripheral that twisted into something of a grimace. “Well, maybe not broken...I don’t see any tears, anyways.” His finger touched the left wing in question again and realization began to sink its claws into Jacob’s heart.

“What’s wrong? Wh-what did you do?”

“Your wing is, uh...bent.”

His wing should not be anything but straight, so hearing that it was sitting at a crooked angle was news to Jacob. It must have been why he wasn’t able to fly early. But he clearly had no problem going from point A to point B all throughout the day, so why had the injury suddenly occurred at what could only be described at the worst time imaginable? The only logical explanation would be that it happened sometime during the initial interrogation when Edix caught him, though he didn’t recall being physically hurt beyond the discomfort from his tight grip...oh. Oh.

“Y-you…” Jacob was shaking again, his fear renewed now that he had confirmation the cat was out to hurt him. “You broke m-my wing…”

Jacob wished he could see the expression the cat was making, if he was making one at all as that stony glare seemed to be his natural facade. He just wanted to be able to judge where these revelations would be leading them in the near future--if Edix had successfully worked up an appetite or if he was only getting started.

“...yeah,” he admitted with another sigh, “I think I did.”

On one hand, he didn’t sound giddy with excitement, but on the other hand, he was admitting he was the one at fault which, by Jacob’s standards, meant he was admitting he would be doing it again. He knew the cat must be able to feel his heart rabbiting against his chest as he started to hyperventilate. However, he wasn’t expecting to be shushed again, like he was supposed to be comforted by all things in the midst of this.

“Hey, listen, it’s okay, I can fix this.” Edix said, finally removing his thumb off of Jacob’s back. The fae didn’t have a chance to move an inch as the hand cradling him was already turning him around so he could face the other. His free hand that had been poking and prodding his injured wing came up to cup behind him, hovering but mindful not to touch the evidently fragile film of his wings. “Okay, well, I can’t fix this, but I know someone who can.”

The way he pursed his lips in afterthought did not do anything to quell the anxiety that gnawed ravenously at his insides. “...maybe, anyways. She knows a lot about tiny things like you, she could probably figure something out.”

That was probably supposed to be something akin to reassurance, but Jacob only felt his heart drop further into his twisted guts. So now he was meant to be handed over and experimented on!? For what? It wasn’t like the cat felt sorry for his actions, did he? Of course not, he was probably the type of feline that had more fun in the chase than the actual capture and merely wanted to return Jacob to full working order to prolong the fun before having himself a snack. It was only when Edix took a step forward was Jacob able to break free from his terrified stupor, frantically shaking his head and flinching away from the hands around him like he was being suddenly burned by their touch alone.

“No!” he yelled, stopping Edix in his tracks who tilted his head to the side again.

“No?”

“No, no, I don’t want to go,” the words were tumbling out of his mouth as quick as his heart was racing. His eyes, wide and shining with unshed tears darted around for any feasible escape that wouldn’t lead to his immediate capture and/or death. “I don’t want to go, I-I, I want to go home, let me g-go home--”

“Okay, easy now, calm down,” Edix’s gentle command had the complete opposite effect on the fae, leading him to brace a thumb across the little one’s midsection to keep him from doing anything too rash. He stilled almost immediately when the touch made contact, but he was quick to regain his senses and start fighting against the hold to no avail. Obviously, the poor thing was locked in a fight or flight response, both of which were impossible to act upon thanks to Edix.

He sighed for the millionth time. “Listen,” he tried, “if you want to go home then you need to tell me where it is because you aren’t making it back on your own like this. Otherwise, we’re going to Ylva’s place and she’s going to fix you up so you fly back on your own. Those are your options.”

They were not his options if Jacob could help it. He couldn’t help it very much, but it wasn’t going to be for lack of trying on his part. Bundling up all of his jittery courage as he could, he focused the budding indignance for this situation in what he hoped was a halfway convincing glare. He doubted that it was anywhere near as threatening as the one the cat wore so easily, but it was all he could manage with his shuddering breathing and tear damp cheeks.

“Let me go,” Jacob said slowly as to keep his words from wobbling too much, “or I’ll curse you.”

So much for not lying anymore to keep from making his impromptu kidnapping any worse than it was already going. If he had been a wooden puppet, his nose would surely be stabbed within Edix’s chest with the boldness of that entirely false promise. Jacob couldn’t even manage to sweet talk the petals of a weed into bloom half the time, let alone to any damage to someone through the powers of magic. Quite frankly, he never wanted to learn how to do those types of attacks, even though Cam insisted they would be for his own protection. If only she knew how much he regretted not taking her up on her offer now. Even Angie’s offer of learning how to chuck a sharpened porcupine quill into an enemy’s eye was sounding incredibly appealing.

Despite his best attempts at appearing high and mighty in the realms of magic, Edix did not appear phased by the threat that would normally have others clamping their mouths shut and scurrying out of fae territory. The cat instead narrowed his eyes in challenge and regarded him with the same tempered patience as a parent with an unruly child.

“Okay. Do it then.”

...that wasn’t the answer Jacob had been hoping for. Realistically, Jacob had been hoping for an apology before he left forever, for his wing to suddenly be healed, and for his friends to come take him home where he would never have to interact with this terrifying creature for the remainder of his life. Well, maybe that wasn’t wholly realistic, but he was at least hoping it would have made the other back off to some degree! Instead, his bluff was immediately called and the fae had no tricks up his sleeve to pad out the threat enough to make Edix reconsider.

He tried to hold out on the staring contest that was going on between them to make Edix crack first, but that simply wasn’t happening. All the cat had to do was raise an eyebrow during the uncomfortable stretch of silence as an unsaid well? and Jacob was a trembling mess all over again. Not only did he have the bitter feelings of anger and terror pooling in his stomach, he was also given the bonus unpleasantness of his cheeks burning with shame that he was unable to fulfil his promise, caught in a lie as soon as he said it. Was he really that pathetic that the other could tell he was no match no matter what bravado he tried to sell?

“Mm. That’s what I thought.”

“I could,” Jacob snapped.

“How?” Edix said with a light poke to the little one��s cheek with his knuckle, wiping away some of the wetness that remained. “You haven’t got any magic in you.”

“How do...th-that’s not true,” he tried to defend, cutting himself off before he foolishly admitted straight away that the cat was right. This could also be a bluff, a much better one, but one he should still take with a grain of salt. He grimaced and pushed the hovering finger away in favor of scrubbing his face dry with his sleeve to the best of his ability. It was only for a second, but he could have sworn he saw the corners of Edix’s lips twitch up at the display, like he thought it was cute. Gross.

The finger did move away, but not before Edix playfully tapped the top of Jacob’s head. “You don’t have any magic in you, not naturally anyways. Just kind of sprinkled over you. The scent is way too faint to have any real use.”

“You can smell magic?” Jacob wasn’t sure just how much he believed that, but it was better than the alternative that Edix knew he was lying right off the bat because he thought the fae was too pitiful to dole out any damage in the first place.

Edix shrugged his shoulders. “Yeah, all venandi can.”

“What’s a ven-an-di?”

“Me,” he said, like it was the most obvious thing ever. To other creatures of the natural world, maybe it was, but as it was stated Jacob was not born into this world and thus had very limited knowledge. He didn’t know if venandi was the name of this cat species as a whole or just Edix particularly and wasn’t sure he wanted to find out lest he get himself tongue tied into something he couldn’t talk himself out of.

So instead, like the genius he was, he decided to blurt out the first thing that came to mind which was, “what do I smell like, then?”

Edix grinned and before Jacob registered the weight of his own request, the hands were pulling him too close for comfort towards the cat’s face. Despite his protesting squeaks, the fae was soon subjected to a nose pressing itself eagerly into the crook of his neck with a deep inhale. The body heat mixed with the soft puffs of warm breath over his body was enough to make him sweat, yet all he could do was shiver when the nose proceeded to rub against the fluttering pulse of his throat and down to his sternum. Each exhale was punctuated by a rumbling that worsened Jacob’s shaking purely because of the vibrations running through him as a result. If the deafening purrs weren’t enough, then the smile he felt widen against his stomach was all the proof he needed that Edix was thoroughly enjoying himself.

And yet another example of why he was such a pisspoor fae, he couldn’t even word his own questions right to keep himself safe. He whimpered when Edix moved to nose at the brown locks on top of his head, warm lips brushing against his cheek. The knowledge that behind the somewhat innocent smile were pointed fangs ready to sink into his flesh made him squirm to push the intruding face away at last. Edix obliged his physical plea to stop, snickering as he pulled back to see the burning bright red from head to toe.

“Honeysuckle.”

The fae swallowed thickly as he regained a modum of composure, “H-huh?”

“You asked what you smell like. Honeysuckle.” Edix hummed in thought, the grin on his face splitting open to reveal the fangs Jacob had fretted about seconds ago as a devious idea came to mind. “I wonder if you taste like honeysuckle, too?”

The color that had tinted Jacob’s cheeks drained absurdly fast at the mention of being sampled, a littering of freckles standing out against the newly paled skin that Edix had never noticed until the fae was inches from his face. The fear stricken expression made the cat laugh again, but Jacob couldn’t find it in him to get huffy about his legitimate fears of being consumed being played off as a joke, not when those teeth were still so close to nipping his flesh.

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding…” the cat relented.

Except he wasn’t kidding when he let a beat of silence lower Jacob’s guard just enough to dart forward and swipe his tongue up the little thing’s cheek and through his hair.

Jacob let out a very unflattering squeal, a mixture of terror and disgust that came with the fact he had just been licked of all things. Thankfully, the partly coarse tongue meant it wasn’t saturated in saliva, but that didn’t stop him from trying to wipe the feeling off of him like he would wipe it from his memory all the same. Fucking hell, that was gross. Would only be worse if the mouth was still dripping with the blood and viscera of Jacob’s remains after he chomped him down in two bites.

Now, Edix seemed to have had his fun in giving Jacob as many heart attacks as he could in a single setting, cooing in mock disappointment as the fae tried to wipe off the remnants of his markings. “Oh, it wasn’t that bad.”

“I don’t like that,” Jacob shot back with a shiver.

“Well, if you do anything often enough, you get used to it,” at last, Edix lowered his hands a respectable distance away from his face to give Jacob some breathing room, “Just throwing that out there.”

Jacob shifted around between his hands, uncomfortable at the notion this would potentially be a reoccurring thing. How long would these teasing tastes last before the hunger overtook? Was he simply going to be a snack for the road, something to lick and suck on like a candy before he was eventually chewed up? The cat must have noticed his creeping anxieties because he rubbed his thumb against the cheek he had just licked, as if he was trying to help rub away the feeling of unease he caused, Jacob let him, only because he found he didn’t have much strength left to consistently fight the other over everything. In the end, Edix was always going to get his way.

“It’s just a day’s trip away, I promise,” Edix spoke up, suddenly reminding Jacob of the conundrum he was in in the first place. His wing, getting it fixed, the ‘friend’ who would either end up doing more harm than good or making him right as rain. “We’ll get you back home before you know it.”

Jacob very much doubted that.

#g/t #giant/tiny #fearplay #g/t fearplay #gt #gianttiny #macro/micro #my writing #ask #anon #the cat bastard returns #does it count as an au if i am the god of this universe to begin with #whomst knows #also shoutout to hiddendreamer for beta'ing the first half of this #the second half was written after she went to bed so we're going to assume its uh.........fine #did yall notice to lil camellia cameo #the CAMeo if you will #i love she #also i stan with fae!angie who decides magic is stupid and physical combat is superior even in the magic world #jacob is shit at magic #everyone knows hes shit at magic #edix loves that hes shit at magic #hey look its a rare instance in which they can actually understand each other!! #and edix still doesnt care what jacob wants because clearly he knows better as his new caretaker #edix: [cripples a fairy] oops guess we're dating now #edix's nickname for jacob being honey is lowkey one of my fav things even in canon #he'll name him eventually don't worry #anyways its time for bed i have work in like 7hrs #maybe tomorrow ill still work on the other story that was supposed to be lined up lol #top tier prompt anon please send more

[writing-in-april]

Shining Bright Above You

Spencer Reid x Male Reader

Summary: Spencer finally gets to go out with his boyfriend after getting out of prison and gets to see the light despite the overwhelming darkness.

A/N: Hey guys! This is my twenty-first fic for my 30 fics in 30 days for April. This ones one of my favorites I’ve ever written and is based on this request and is also inspired by some stuff @ontheoddoccasioniwritestuff sent to me for inspiration. I know x male reader fics don’t do good in fandom (which is a crying shame) but there’s still a large portion of people it applies to that read fanfic so please share it around so it might reach them!! Inclusivity in fanfic is important and I’ve heard multiple people get very discouraged they don’t see more fics that represent them- so please help bring more inclusivity in fandom!!! My ask box is open for nice anons only- here- if I see a shred of homophobia I will curb stomp you (I will not have a debate about it in my inbox) BUT please don’t be afraid to point out if I made a mistake in terms of the gender of the reader (this is not an open invitation to critique the rest of the fic)Thanks for reading and hope y’all enjoy!

Warnings: Mentions of homophobia & the prison arc & subtle hints at a soulmate au (which is funny I wrote it like that because I don’t read soulmate fics lol)- otherwise its super fluffy 🥰

Main Masterlist Word Count: 1.6k

Time was just a construct created by humans to understand how we moved forward in the universe, and even though I was exaggerating it had felt like a million years since I had been out with Spencer. Prison had already made it hard to see him, with all the pat downs and checks only to still be separated by a plexiglass wall. On top of that, Spencer had only let me visit once, until he saw eyes leering at me with some uttering slurs underneath their breath.

It wasn’t until he was freed that I could see him again, and in the flesh as well. I remember our first hug after he had been released, both of us practically soaking our clothes with tears that didn’t seem to stop. For Spencer, it had even taken along time to convince him that I was real, and that I was safe- there would be no homophobic prisoners coming to attack us in the night.

Spencer didn’t like the night, one of his worst fears was the darkness and night was when the shadowy parts of his mind came out to play. Oftentimes I’d find him in other parts of the apartment at night, with all the lights on, the bed was no longer a place of comfort. One night I had pulled him to the couch, lights all flicked on and a nature documentary playing softly. When I had brought his head into my lap to stroke his fluffy locks that were still beautiful even though they were still damaged from the prison soap, he had fallen asleep a lot easier. Since then the couch has become our bed. Though I did not mind because he kicked and cried less in the night, and even when he did, it was easier to hold him.

The night was a scary place for Spencer, except when the stars shone bright. That’s why when I had remembered one of our favorite past dates, at the observatory, I immediately called in a favor. We had the place to ourselves tonight, sure it cost me more money than I’d ever spent before on a date. It had been ages, a million years it seemed like since we went out in public, so the price was worth it. It was all for Spencer, to make the night good for him again.

Though I definitely loved looking at the bright balls of gas up above I much preferred to rest my gaze on Spencer’s eyes. Spencer’s eyes often reminded me of the stars, not because of their color- but because of the slight twinkle that they got every time he was happy. The twinkle in my opinion rivaled the brightness of the stars with ease.

Normally I could listen to Spencer rambling on about facts all day, being completely entranced by his phrasing. But, his eyes had entranced me this time. I was no longer thinking about the black holes that he was rambling about, but how lucky I was. How lucky I was to see that twinkle in his eye and get to kiss him at the same time?

I could’ve been born at any point throughout space and time, to see any number of amazing things across the universe. But, I was put here standing next to Spencer. Just two specks of stardust ready to be in this world together. However insignificant life could seem in the grander scheme of things- however small we could both seem, I wouldn’t want to be next to any other speck of stardust nor be placed at any point in space and time.

“And no particles or even electromagnetic radiation such as light—can escape from it.” I caught the last part of what he said as he finished his mini rant about black holes. Thinking about light being swallowed up and being crushed into oblivion it made me think of Spencer again, it was a sad thought, though it was filled with hope.

I thought about all the darkness that had tried to consume Spencer throughout the years. Most recently prison had been the thing that tried to stomp the light out of him. It was nice to see that light that had dimmed sparkle a little brighter tonight. Even though we have been dating for a long time I felt myself filled with a small amount of happiness knowing that I was at least part of the reason the sparkle in his eye was bright tonight.

“You ok?” Spencer piped up, looking at me with concern.

“The stars are bright tonight.”

He looked a little confused at my seemingly somewhat random statement, he still looked back up at the stars. On the inside I wished he’d kept his bright glinting gaze upon me, then he confirmed my statement, “Yes, yes they are.”

“You’re still shining brighter.” Even after all this time I still had the capabilities to make Spencer blush. Every time he did so I was reminded of the stuttering boy I had met all those years ago. When he had first approached me in the library so long ago to ask me if I was finished with a book I had set down to the side, he was instantly just as endearing to me as he is now.

It had been such a different time then, it seemed almost like another lifetime. We had been through so much together, I often thought the universe might have some vendetta against us. Though logically the universe wouldn’t be so concerned with two small specks of stardust such as ourselves. Either way, whatever was truly out there in the unknown, there’s no place I’d rather be.

A piece of paper, folded carefully so the creases would be neat, was burning a hole through my slacks. It was a small gift in the grander scheme of things, a blip on anyone else’s radar. This held more meaning for us than just some novelty gift people buy.

His eyes were back on the stars, observing them with such intensity that I hadn’t even seen the astronomer Spencer had introduced me to last time we were here. Spence craved the light above him- who was I to deny him if I could give it to him?

It may have not been plucking the stars out of the sky for him to cuddle in his arms in a literal sense. I couldn’t buy all the stars in the sky, the website didn’t allow that. I could give him one though, one that was brighter than any others they had for sale.

“I-I have something for you.” I stuttered, which had Spencer looking at me with suspicion; he was the stutterer when nervous, not normally me.

Spencer’s eyes were on me now, not the stars, though he looked at me with the same reverence as he did when gazing up at the Milky Way. The same way I always did.

My hands were shaky when I pulled out the folded paper, carefully undoing the creases to present him the certificate of ownership for a star. Spencer steadied them with his fingers wrapping around my wrists. They were long and spindly, just made in a certain way that made me always want to kiss the tips of them as I did so often.

He then took the paper from my hands, even though I wanted to be greedy and take the warmth from his hands that the paper was stealing. I cleared my throat before telling him what the folded paper was, still nervous over a simple sheet of paper,“It’s our star.”

Somehow his eyes gleamed ever brighter because of how the tears that were now welling up in his eyes refracted the light even more. He wiped them a little, so he could scan the paper over to read the certificate that to most people meant nothing.

“It’s so we can have a little bit more light in our life.” I chewed on my bottom lip after I finished giving him my reasoning for the gift, nervous about his reaction. His hands were shaking now, as were mine, though for different reasons.

If my brain was thinking logically I’d realize he’d love anything I have to him, he’d probably even treasure a vial of sand. “You’re all the light I need” He then pulled me into his lips by grasping at my cheeks, the paper still in his hands brushing up against them accidentally. The only people here to see the light between us was a mingling curious janitor. It didn’t matter who was watching, I only needed one person to be here, Spencer. And, every time I was in his presence I always stopped to think, there’s no place I’d rather be. There’s no one else I’d rather be attached to, no one else I want to call me their boyfriend. He’s my home and my light just as much as I am his.

There’s an old Buddhist saying that, when you meet your soulmate, remember that the act to bring you together was 500 years in the making. So always appreciate and be kind to one another. I don’t know how much I put stock in the idea of soulmates, or the universe having some illogical vendetta against us, or the possibility of a being greater than humankind. I did know however, that if there was anyone in the world that I could possibly be soulmates with, it would be Spencer Reid. I’d spend the rest of my days comforting him from the darkness, happily showing him the specks of light in between that ultimately would defeat the swirling pools of black.

Ask Me Anything

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