No No You Dont Understand The Utter Joy I Get When I See Someone Liking And Reblogging A Lot Of My Writing

No no you don’t understand the utter joy I get when I see someone liking and reblogging a lot of my writing at once is just, unimaginable. It makes me so happy

And then if they follow afterwards I feel like a car salesman that successfully sold a car after hours of haggling

just saw someone post “it’s common knowledge ur not supposed to spam reblog from someone ur not mutuals with” …..?????????? am i confused??? IS that common knowledge???? i try not to spam if i can help it but i actually personally love seeing spam notifs lmao??? unless i dont know what spam reblog means

I suffered a mental break after writing like eighteen college essays and wrote the newest one about a bagel and I just call it college essay bagel and it haunts me but like objectively it’s funny because it’s about a bagel you know? And my English teacher is gonna throw a book at my head when she finally reads it

“If I help you learn this, you won’t do anything illegal with it, right?”

The villain shot them a dry look.

“I’m going to pretend you didn’t ask that question, and if it helps, you can pretend I gave a comforting answer.”

The book was soft like butter under the hero’s fingers, old and worn. There had been a lock around the cover, but that was easy enough to break off. It was a miracle the school kept any students at all out of the restricted section—but maybe that was the point.

The villain leaned over their shoulder, warm through the hero’s coat.

“You figured it out?”

“You asked me to, didn’t you?”

The villain snorted, reaching over to scoot the hero’s hand off a piece of the text.

“We’ll make a Baneswallow out of you yet.”

The use of the villain’s last name pulled a blush to the hero’s cheek, and they ducked their head. The villain’s family was—nice. Ostentatious, and well known, but they still smiled at the hero whenever the villain dragged them home for dinner. They looked at the hero like they were worth just as much as their own child, asked about their day like they were one of their own.

It was a kind of softness the hero didn’t have for themself.

“So. It’s mainly a concentration spell, which means you’ll need a conduit—“ they twisted around, and found the villain focused on them intently. “What?”

“Nothing.” They shook their head, stepping back. “I just forgot how happy you were.”

The hero’s brow furrowed. They closed the book.

“Are you okay?”

They reached for the villain, standing from their chair, and fell instead, the smell of metal permeating their nose, sharp on their tongue, down and down and down.

They slammed into wet concrete with a snap.

“Fuck,” the hero wheezed. It took them a moment to get enough breath to roll onto their back. They were dizzy, mind swirling as they tried to figure out where and when they were. The villain watched them closely. “A memory spell?” They asked as they sat up, head reeling. They massaged their temple with one hand. “Why?”

The villain shrugged one shoulder.

“I wanted answers.”

The hero swallowed, nauseous and sick with the bone deep out-of-place feeling that came with being thrown into a memory, especially one so old.

“Did you find them?”

“Yes.”

The silence was palpable, a fragile sort of thing the two of them never used to hold between them.

“How’s your family,” they tried, and the villain’s face darkened. “I haven’t seen them in a while.”

“They’re fine. They miss you,” the villain’s voice was quiet, but it was steeped with anger. “They’re proud of you, too.”

Their mouth went dry. “They’re proud of me?”

The villain scoffed. “Of course they are. Did you think they stopped caring when you stopped coming around?”

The hero didn’t have an answer for that.

“You really thought—“

“I didn’t think they’d appreciate my profession.”

The villain shrugged once more. “They don’t care too much about that. Plus, it’s you.”

It’s you? Like it was any sort of answer, like the hero was something the villain’s family held dear.

When they spoke again, the villain’s voice was hurt.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I always told you everything, you know that.”

“No,” the villain spat. “I thought I knew that. Then I found out that you—“ they broke off. “Why?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“It’s complicated,” the villain seethed. “That’s what you said. It’s complicated.”

The hero went cold.

“It is,” they rasped.

The villain turned away, hands shaking with unspent anger.

“It’s complicated is what you say when your parents don’t believe in magic. It’s complicated is when you aren’t speaking, or when they don’t accept you, or when they’re divorced. It’s complicated is not what you tell your best friend when your parents are brutally murdered.”

For a moment, they couldn’t breathe.

“Villain—“

“You could have told me.”

“I didn’t know how,” their voice was sharper than they had intended, and the villain froze. “What, you think it’s easy to tell someone, someone you love, that your parents died in the worst way possible? That you found them? You think I should have just said it over breakfast one day, like it was nothing?”

“I think you should have let us support you—“

“Shut up,” the hero hissed, and the villain did. “You still have your family at home. They’re wonderful, and they care, and they love you. I don’t have that. I haven’t had that for a long time. So stop telling me what I should have done, when you’ve never had to do it.”

They were wearing the villain’s coat, from all those years ago. The villain’s mother had given it to them on the way out the door, tucked it around them and whispered “keep it,” one winter break. They had wanted to keep that feeling of belonging, too, but the hadn’t. They wondered if the villain recognized it.

“They love you too,” They murmured, and the hero just stared at them. “To them, you were always just another child of theirs.”

“What?”

“They ask about you,” the villain continued. “All the time. Ever since graduation. Dad keeps all your newspaper clippings. Mom hasn’t given me a moments rest ever since she found out, asks me to invite you for dinner every time she sees that we’re fighting again.”

The hero was going to vomit, or cry, or both.

“Stop it.”

“Why,” the villain challenged. “It’s true. They miss you.”

They were a breath away from the hero, and the hero didn’t know when it had happened, or when they had stood from the ground.

“I miss you,” the villain whispered, and then, the hero did cry.

“I was worried you’d never look at me the same.” It wasn’t a sob, but it was close.

“What way is that?”

“Like I’m something more than a tragedy.”

The villain smiled something soft.

“You are a tragedy. But you’ve always been my favorite.”

The hero swayed, and then they were tucked into the villain’s neck.

The villain hushed them, arms tight, and it felt like childhood.

“My parents are dead,” they murmured into the villain’s neck, and this time, they just hummed.

“Mom is making Alfredo,” they said quietly, and the hero didn’t move.

“She still makes that?”

“You told her it was the best thing you’d ever had, once.”

“I remember.”

The villain held them closer, like they were memorizing them.

“Let’s go home,” the villain breathed. “Please.”

Home. Because that’s what it was, wasn’t it? Somewhere between starting school and ending it, they had become something more than just the villain’s friend.

Somewhere between starting the academy and eating Alfredo, they had become a Baneswallow.

“Okay,” the hero whispered. “Okay.”

With a snap of magic, they were gone.

Nora updated her bio on twitter and she listed out her books (TFC, TRK, TKM and Elysium)- i know what they are but what the hell is TSC? Any ideas? 🤨

Any clues?

New book?

At the moment, we don't know what TSC is!!

Some are speculating it could be a fourth AFTG book, some think (due to some tweets Nora made recently about finding songs that fit Jean and Jeremy's characters) that it might be a new spin-off book/series focusing on jerejean. Others think it might be a new, completely unrelated series altogether.

Personally, I am keeping my expectations low! I would LOVE for it to be a new book focusing on Jean's story and/or making jerejean canon, but the evidence for that is mostly just conjecture at this point. I would much rather be delightfully surprised than terribly disappointed if it turns out to be something other than what I had expected.

I also doubt it will be a continuation of Neil's story, and frankly if it is in the aftgverse I doubt it will follow the Foxes much at all. I'm fairly certain (though don't quote me on this bc I haven't read most of the EC myself) Nora had previously talked in her EC about how there were the beginnings of a fourth book at one point, but that she decided to scrap it because she was already happy with the series' existing ending.

At this point, there is a lot we don't know. What we do know is that Rainbow Crate is teasing us with special edition hardcovers of the English versions, planned for release in early 2024. It's possible Nora's breadcrumbs are related to that, and it's possible that they are not. It's too soon to really speculate much yet. Only time will tell!

Guys. Guys I don’t think it’s only a quarter

Thanks for all of the recent feedback around Community Labels being incorrectly applied to content. In particular, we appreciate the input we’ve received from the LGBTQIA+ community and understand the frustrations from folks who felt that their content was unfairly labeled. When we realized this was happening, we immediately investigated and are taking steps to prevent this from happening again.

The LGBTQIA+ community makes up about a quarter of the Tumblr community. It is important for us to support all Tumblr users, especially those whose safe spaces are under threat in certain parts of the world.

As you know, alongside of the rollout of Community Labels we also expanded the types of content allowed on Tumblr as a way to welcome more creativity, art, and self-expression. Our goals remain the same today. Human error happens and we apologize to anyone who has been impacted by these mistakes.

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The 1989 TV vault tracks just cured my depression, kissed my forehead, and handed me a lit match.